ugh the various agencies of the American army, through General
Pershing's intense interest in righteous things, through that
Lincoln-like Christian leader of the chaplains, Bishop Brent, through
the Y. M. C. A., and the Salvation Army, and the Knights of Columbus,
your boy has his chance, whatever creed, or race, or church, to worship
his God as he wishes; and not one misses this opportunity, even the
lonely sentinel on the road. And the glorious thing about it is that
boys who never before thought of going to church at home, crowd the
huts on Sundays and for the good-night prayers on week-days.

Just before the battle of Chateau-Thierry, "Doc," of whom I have spoken
in this chapter before, said: "Boys, do you want a communion service?"

"Yes," they shouted.

Knowing that there were Catholics and Jews and Protestants and
non-believers there, he said: "Now, anybody who doesn't want to take
communion may leave."

Not a single man left. Out of one hundred or more men only two did not
kneel to take of the sacred bread and wine. Two Jews knelt with the
others, several Roman Catholics, and men of all Protestant
denominations. Half of them were dead before another sunrise came
around, but they had had their service.

Every man has his opportunity to worship God in his own way and as
nearly as possible at his own altars in France. There was the story of
"The Rosary."

It was Hospital Hut Number ----, and half a thousand boys from the
front, wounded in every conceivable way, were sitting there in the hut
in a Sunday-evening service. Many of them had crutches beside them;
others canes. Some of them, had their heads bandaged; others of them
carried their arms in slings. Some of them had lost legs, and some of
them had no arms left. Their eager faces were lighted with a strange
light, such as is not seen on land or sea, and on most of those faces,
unashamed, ran over pale cheeks the tears of homesickness as the young
corporal whom I had taken with me from another town sang "The Rosary."
I have never heard it sung with more tenderness, nor have I heard it
sung in more beautiful voice. That young lad was singing his heart out
to those other boys. He had not been up front himself as yet, for he
was in a base port attending to his duties, which were just as
important as those up front, but it was hard for him to see it that
way. So he loved and respected these other lads who had, to his way of
thinking, been more for