WE BREAK CAMP
It was Sunday, October 1st. It was the most beautiful day I have ever
seen. There had been a heavy frost during the night, and in the morning
the hills, which had been green all summer, but had lately begun to
put on their autumn tints, were glorious in bright scarlet, yellow and
russet, with still here and there a dark-green patch of spruce. The
white frost was on the ground and a covering of ice one-eighth of an
inch thick was formed on the basin of water in my tent. The air was
cold, clear and invigorating. The men were all in excellent spirits.
I said Mass for my own men, and then walked about two miles towards
the entrance to the camp to say Mass for the other soldiers who still
remained in the different areas. The Sabbath-day stillness seemed more
intense than ever. Perhaps it was on account of the very small number
left in the camp. When I turned around after I had said Mass, I could
not but pause in admiration of the wonderful beauty of God’s works. I
took for the text of my sermon: “O Lord, Our Lord, how admirable is Thy
name in the whole world.” I told the lads that as Our Lord had made all
things beautiful we ought to keep our souls beautiful in His sight, and
that one of the surest means of doing so was to come to Holy Communion.
Then I preached on the Blessed Eucharist.
When I reached our own lines after Mass nearly all the tents had been
taken down and rolled up. I had breakfast at one of the men’s cook
stoves. We were to break camp at twelve o’clock. I think I was the only
one who was sorry to leave.
Things had gone very well during the summer; there had been many
consolations in the ministry. Many men who had passed long years away
from the sacraments had come into the white bell tent pitched in the
open space in the valley and, kneeling there, had been reconciled after
many years’ estrangement from God. I had watched the men in the evening
and had noticed how cheerful they were, how much like boys they were in
the tricks they played on each other.
One evening, shortly before we were to leave, a great bonfire had been
lighted. All through the day the men had worked at the base of the
slopes cutting down dry trees and carrying them out. The fire was built
in the square where the men drilled and took their physical exercises
in the mornings. It was a thrilling sight to watch the little tongues
of fire darting in and out among the pile of dry twigs, increasing in
size and speed till they developed into one great waving pillar of
flame that tore its way upward through the gigantic pile of dry old
trees, hissing, crackling and roaring as it went. The flames must have
reached forty feet in height, and at times the sparks swarmed down on
the tents like bees to a hive, and the soldiers had to beat them out.
The band marched around the flaming pillar and played, keeping always
within the circle of light made by the fire. Many soldiers followed in
procession, some of them performing comical acrobatic feats as they
went. There was an almost new tent floor up near the colonel’s tent
which some of the lads thought would make excellent fuel for the fire.
Presently about eight of them were carrying it towards the flames. The
quartermaster, who had charge of the movables of the camp, saw them
approaching and immediately advanced from his place near the fire,
angrily shouting orders to them to put down the tent floor. They did,
though not till the indignant quartermaster was very near them. Then
they turned and ran quickly away. The quartermaster, who was a heavy
man, did not pursue them. He turned towards the fire, but only to find
that a number of rough tables and chairs had gone to satisfy the hungry
flames! He was very angry. The lads had become like little children,
and I think their souls had become like the souls of little children.
And now we were going back to civilization! Our journey was one of
about four hundred miles through many small towns and cities to a camp
near the seaboard, where we were to wait a few weeks before embarking.
We left Valcartier at the time appointed, and all that day and most of
the evening our route lay along the noble St. Lawrence. In the morning
we came into our own Province of New Brunswick, from the northern part
of which our battalion had been recruited.
In many towns at which we stopped liquor was procured, and soon there
were evidences that many of the men had taken too much. And when we
drew near the town from the environs of which the majority of the
lads had been recruited a great number gave signs of almost complete
intoxication, so that parents who stood among the great crowd which
had gathered to see the lads as they passed through were greatly
humiliated. I felt sick at heart, for a public holiday had been
proclaimed and people had come from the whole surrounding countryside
to see the battalion for the last time before going overseas. It was
a gala-day. They had waited all morning, and then many of the men who
arrived were in every stage of intoxication! It was very humiliating to
the poor parents and the men had been so good all summer!
When the train pulled out, I went back to my seat in the Pullman.
Two thoughts were working in my mind, so that my head felt a little
dazed and I did not hear the officers talking around me. Neither did
I perceive when they spoke to me. One thought was a very human one. I
felt terribly disheartened, and I wondered if the people thought that
the men had been drinking so during the summer, and I fell to wishing
that they could only know all about the men in camp. The other thought
was that I was grateful to God for having chosen me to minister to
them. For surely they needed a priest!