All day long I walked up and down among the wounded, hearing confessions, giving Holy Communion, anointing those mortally wounded, and taking messages for dear ones at home. Among the dying were many Germans, and a number of these were Catholics. I knew only one sentence in German: “Sind sie Katholisch?” “Are you a Catholic?” but it was sufficient, for I understood when the reply was “Yes,” or “No.” When a German would say he was a Catholic, I would put on my stole, open my little ciborium, hold up the Sacred Host, and then I would look at him. Always his two hands would fold, and I would wait kneeling by his side till he had finished his act of contrition; then I would give him Holy Communion. It was a beautiful sight to see the tears of gratitude come into the eyes of those dying Germans after they had received their Lord; and after I had anointed them, invariably they reached out and gripped my hand before passing out. Many lads were ushered up to the gates of heaven that day.
The following morning George and I went up to Caix. My own brigade was now out of the fight for a while, but I was following with the Second Field Ambulance. For a long time we waited on the side of the road, as the place we intended to hold for an advanced dressing station had not yet been taken. About 1:10 p. m. I stood on a hill and watched the men of the First Brigade come up into action. An Irish chaplain whom I had once met at St. Michael’s Club was riding behind them. He told me that he had just given them a general absolution.
All that afternoon, and late into the evening, I worked with the Second Field Ambulance. A great number of wounded passed through. Once some enemy airplanes swooped low and dropped bombs amongst us, but they failed to kill any one. We were now in open warfare, and for the first time I saw the cavalry in action. They came cantering across an open field, their spears, held at their sides, pointing heavenwards, ribbons fluttered from the long handles, and the burnished points flashed in the sunlight.
That evening I was relieved by Father Locharay and I found a small dugout where I got a few hours of sleep.
Chapter LXXX
At the Wayside
Early in the morning George and I left to find the Sixteenth which had passed through in the evening. We anticipated some trouble, for to find one’s battalion after an attack is not the easiest thing in the world. However, we saw the Sixteenth Battalion water cart in the great procession that filled the road before us, so, keeping our eyes on it, we slipped in behind a transport wagon and followed along on the right side of the road. We went slowly, and at times halted for five and sometimes ten minutes. Now and again some of the horses in the procession, as we passed dead horses on the side of the road, would begin side-stepping in their fear, and this would interfere somewhat with the progress of the line.
We had been walking with many halts for over an hour, and I remember how surprised I was that our soldiers had advanced so far. All the marks of the advance were along the way: broken war-wagons of every description, dead Germans and dead Canadians, deep shell-holes, shattered buildings, and always in the air mingled with the dust that rose from the busy road were the odors of gas and sulphur.
We had been walking on the right of the procession, and to this day I cannot say why I decided to change my place. For no reason that I can remember I stepped in front of a team of mules hitched to a general service wagon and crossed to the left of the road. Then I noticed two soldiers approaching carrying a wounded comrade on a stretcher. I am certain that if I had not crossed to the left of the road I would not have noticed them.
Just as the lads came alongside me they halted and I heard one say: “He ain’t dead yet.” Then gently they lowered their burden to the road in order to take a short rest.
I stepped over to the wounded lad and a glance told me that he had not much longer to live. I knelt quickly on one knee and pulled out the little round identification disc attached to the string around his neck. I looked at it and saw the letters “R. C.”