When the poor starved creatures realized we were bringing them food, their joy knew no bounds; the children shouted with very joy and swarmed up into the trucks. We found ourselves crying, but supremely happy in the realization that we were doing the Master's work.
The inhabitants fluently spoke French as well as German; and when the children saw the Chaplain's cross and found I was a priest, their reverence and affection was most pronounced.
The food, indeed, was but the coarse Army fare, "bully" beef, hard tack, and condensed milk; but, withal, it was relished most keenly. We felt gratified in the humble part we had played in saving the lives of those unfortunate non-combatants, and organizing our first Divisional Relief Expedition into Germany.
CHAPTER XI
DOMREMY—HOME
"Major Whittington, I have not had a furlough since we landed in France."
"I guess that's so, Chaplain; which city would you prefer visiting, Paris or Metz?"
"Domremy—."
"Domremy!" he exclaimed, "I never heard of the place. However, you may go." Then, with forced seriousness, added, "I believe you are needed in Domremy on Official Business."
It was December eleventh. We had long been anxious to visit the birthplace of Joan of Arc. The story of her heroic brilliant life had ever interested and inspired us; and now, to actually be in the hills of her native Lorraine, to make a pilgrimage to her shrine, became our supreme ambition.