Somehow, that first evening in the wards, I felt that I too had my share of courage and of usefulness.
Down there, in the firing line, they had found wherewith to feed their pride; here, the young heroes would be able to unburden their souls. At the front they had seen the living France. In this hospital, perhaps, they would come face to face with God—forgotten, misunderstood, abandoned—God who is so good to those who fall.
The major gave us his recommendations and the last orders. He was struck at seeing so many budding moustaches, and beards.
"Heavens! I only see priests to the fore!"
"Priests to the fore!" That is indeed our motto. Our comrades say we are rash. All the same, they are as rash as we are. They go to the bloody business laughing, we go praying.
FOOTNOTE:
[6] All numerals relate to stories told herein—not to chapters in the book.