The zero hour was fixed for five a. m. the following morning. As the hour drew near, Barry at his work in the C. C. S., found in his heart the words of the psalm, “My soul wait thou only upon God . . . I shall not be moved.” That wounds and death were awaiting many of them he well knew, and his prayer was that they might meet the fate appointed them with unshaken faith and courage.
By seven o'clock the wounded began to arrive and an hour later the C. A. M. C. marquee was filled to overflowing with a cue of wounded men forming outside in the falling rain. The suffering in their pale and patient faces stirred in him a poignant sympathy. There was the chaplain service tent adjoining. He ran to find the chaplain in charge.
“Tell me,” he said, “may we use your marquee for wounded men?”
“Sure thing. It will never be used for a better purpose.”
Barry returned to the O. C. of the C. C. S.
“Why not direct that a part of this stream be sent to the adjoining tent for registration, and for anti-tetanus hypodermics? These poor chaps are standing out in the rain, chilled to the bone and ready to drop.”
“For Heaven's sake do it,” said the O. C. “We are really up against it here. Can you take that off my hands?”
“I'll try,” said Barry.
In a few minutes the congestion at the door of the marquee was relieved and the wounded men, to their own vast comfort, were bestowed upon the benches and chairs in the chaplain service tent. But something further was necessary to their comfort.
“Draper,” said Barry to the chaplain in charge of the tent, “you see these men? They have had nothing to eat since last night. They have fought a battle, been wounded, and walked out some five miles or so, since then. It's eight o'clock now. What about it?”