Very cordially yours,
Gilbert Close,
Confidential Secretary to the President.
Christmas Day was memorable. A fall of snow gave festive atmosphere to our outpost homes. "Jip" carried me from Euvezin, where I said Mass for Headquarters troop, to Grey Hound, where I repeated the Sacrifice for the Signal Battalion. With the coming of the holiday the boys had been rehearsing an old-fashioned minstrel show, with boxing and wrestling matches as side attractions. A long rambling shack near Bouillonville had been secured for the entertainment, and its battered walls adorned with holly and cedar branches. The hearts of all were sad and pensive that Christmas Day, far overseas, and the entertainment, lasting through five hilarious hours, did wonders in the way of reviving depressed spirits.
December twenty-ninth marked the "ne plus ultra" of my active service overseas! In an old shack on the hills, swept with rain and swarming with well meaning but annoying rats, I came down with the flu with a temperature of 103 degrees. Doctor Lugar, who had nursed me through the gas attack, shook his head and ordered me sent to Evacuation Hospital No. 1. Here I was delighted to meet my old friend Father Morris O'Shea of Buffalo, there stationed as Chaplain. A few days later I was sent to Base Hospital "51" at Toul. The Medical Staff ordered me from Toul to America, and on February first I arrived at St. Nazaire on Biscay Bay. My supreme joy here was in meeting my niece, Miss Honor Barry, who had served as an Army Corps nurse in Base Hospital 101, located at this seaport, during nine arduous months.
On February ninth I sailed on the Manchuria, arriving in New York on February twenty-second. Reporting at General Hospital 28, Fort Sheridan, Ill., was thence ordered to the Army Hospital at Asheville, North Carolina. Six weeks in the ozoned hills of the Southland restored perfect health; and on May first reported for active duty at Fort Sheridan.
With the memory of sweet Domremy still before us, we shall bring the humble record of service Over There to its close.
In this period of valedictory may we be permitted a concluding reflection, projected in clear outline on the background of those thrilling days now forever over. That reflection, in silhouette, is this—the great crises of life—whether decisive of weal or of woe, are, to the soul of normal man, God impelling! In direct ratio as danger and death impended in the gloomy wastes of No Man's Land, all soldiers grew religious and turned instinctively to God. In the zero hour the profane grew silent and the curse died unuttered on his lip. All, all, realized God! The trench became His sanctuary, the flaming front His Presence Light, the glow on the faces of dying comrades visualized the Gospel of His Greater Love.
We needed God Over There, we need Him equally as much Over Here! Peace has its trials, its dangers, its lurking foes, its pitfalls, its hills of Pride to be conquered, its valleys of Despond to be overcome. The Rembercourt of Life lies before us. We survived that attack—who shall survive Death's final hill crest!