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!