the trenches. But the whole German race seemed to be flowing in
on the British, and they fairly got into the trenches, though they were
twice driven out. Yard by yard the battalion retired. The next moment an
unearthly, fluorescent light shot and flooded along the trenches. The
troops gasped for a moment, and then started back. Standing on a
traverse in full view of Germans and Englishmen was a tall man with
yellow hair, in a priest's cassock. He was brandishing a sword that
flashed like a tongue of flame, and crying "Turn back! turn back!
advance!"

Private Hilaire O'Hagan, the deserter, stood beside him holding a
massive brass altar cross above his head. From that moment O'Hagan
behaved like one possessed. He hurled himself over the traverse into the
"green" of the German regiment, and started hacking and stabbing with
the pointed end of the cross. The Huns did not like the look of such a
wild apparition and refused to face him. Bit by bit they retired and
O'Hagan took advantage of a moment to take a green silk Irish flag, with
a crownless harp, from his pocket, and attach it to the spike of the
cross. Then, roaring like a lion and brandishing his strange weapon, he
fell on them once more--and as they broke he saw the hooded priest
driving them before him with his flaming sword. A great joy seemed to
burn up in his soul. Men who watched him said he ran amok. His great
voice rose high above the chattering machine guns in a beautiful
Franciscan chant and the voice of the priest joined in. What O'Hagan,
bearing his mighty cross, must have looked like in the eerie dawn mist,
Heaven knows. But seeing such an apparition and hearing the strange
chant, it is possible the Huns thought the devil had joined in the
fight. Then a man in the rear trench pointed to the west, where a great
image of the cross was shining against a blood red sky, and a voice
cried "Forward." It passed from man to man, and the regiment advanced,
howling, with O'Hagan. They drove the Germans before them like chaff
before a fan, and fell back, in triumph, to their lost trenches. They
saw O'Hagan stagger a little and then turn round to where the regiment
boiled with joy in the trenches.

"You are back, my children," he shouted. "It is well, for my poor soul
desires rest.... Aye, rest indeed!"

A great peace settled on O'Hagan's face, as he slowly collapsed and lay
very still.

Not long after this a country parson received a letter from a
hare-brained