ass, and so won my point.

Chaplain and burial work had been meanwhile growing tremendously. Burial
details to be organized, equipped and dispatched far and wide along the
front; conferences with Chaplains; forwarding to them of Departmental
Orders; receiving their weekly reports, and compiling these in daily
reports to the Graves Registration Service; with monthly reports to be
prepared for Bishop Brent at Chaumont, Monsignor Connolly at Paris, and
Archbishop Hayes at New York.

At this time welfare workers joined us and we had thirty Y. M. C. A.
secretaries under Rev. Mr. Todd; eight American Red Cross secretaries
under Mr. Kolinski of Chicago; six Salvation Army lady secretaries under
Adjutant Mr. Brown, and ten Knights of Columbus secretaries under Mr.
McCarthy of Kansas City, who joined us at Bouillonville.

All these workers rendered most valuable and devoted service; especially
at a time and place when we were far afield in ruined shell-swept areas,
and completely cut off from every vestige of ordinary comforts. How good
a bar of chocolate, a stick of Black Jack, a "dash" of despised
inglorious "goldfish" tasted to Buddie, lying cold, hungry, dirty and
"cootified" in his dugout!

A distinct contribution to modern civilization, and a form of national
and international altruism making for the betterment, not only of him
who receives but as well of him who gives, was organized welfare work.
The need of such work always existed; and the organization of trained
and equipped auxiliary forces intelligently to perform it must have ever
been apparent. It remained for the World War, conceived, at least in the
American mind in unselfish motive, to create and give flesh and blood
expression to so Divine a vocation; and assign it honored rank among
National institutions eminently to be desired, and, without invidious
comparison, devotedly to be maintained.

One day, timing and dodging dropping shells, I came to ruined, bombarded
Essey. A single piece of bread had been my only fare for many trying
hours and I was hungry to the point of exhaustion.

Above the door of a dugout I saw the welcome sign "Salvation Army," and,
making my way to the door, I knocked. It was at once opened by two lady
secretaries.

The savory odor of fresh, crisp fried cakes greeted me, and in the
center of the room beyond, I saw a table heaped high with the precious
viands themselves! Truly it was Angel Food! Not the lily-white sort
served and k