s confession and I pronounced the absolution. Then I gave him the
Blessed Sacrament. Like many severely wounded men, he was not suffering
much, but was dying of shock. We were now compelled to use the church
and it also soon became a scene of suffering. The building to-day is a
ruin, but then it had been untouched by shells and was large and
impressive. We had only a few candles with which to light it. The
wounded were laid out, some on the floor, some on chairs, and some sat
up waiting for the convoys of ambulances that were to take them to the
Base. It was a strange scene. In the distance we heard the roar of the
battle, and here, in the dim light of the hollow-sounding aisles, were
shadowy figures huddled up on chairs or lying on the floor. Once the
silence was broken by a loud voice shouting out with startling
suddenness, "O God! stop it." I went over to the man. He was a British
sergeant. He would not speak, but I think in his terrible suffering he
meant the exclamation as a kind of prayer. I thought it might help the
men to have a talk with them, so I told them what great things were
being done that night and what a noble part they had played in holding
back the German advance and how all the world would honour them in
after times. Then I said, "Boys, let us have a prayer for our comrades
up in that roar of battle at the front. When I say the Lord's Prayer
join in with me, but not too loudly as we don't want to disturb those
who are trying to sleep." I had a short service and they all joined in
the Lord's Prayer. It was most impressive in that large, dim church,
to hear the voices, not loudly, but quite distinctly, repeating the
words from different parts of the building, for some of the men had
gone over to corners where they might be by themselves. After the
Lord's Prayer I pronounced the Benediction, and then I said, "Boys,
the Cure won't mind your smoking in the church tonight, so I am going
to pass round some cigarettes." Luckily I had a box of five hundred
which had been sent to me by post. These I handed round and lit them.
Voices from different parts would say, "May I have one, Sir?" It was
really delightful to feel that a moment's comfort could be given (p. 072)
to men in their condition. A man arrived that night with both his eyes
gone, and even he asked for a cigarette. I had to put the cigarette
into his mouth and light it for him. "It's so dark, Sir," he said, "I
can't see." I was not going to tell hi