CHAPTER LVIII
THE RONVILLE CAVES
On Wednesday morning while I was taking my breakfast in the mess of the Sixteenth Battalion, George came in with a cup of tea and some good news. All the battalions of the brigade were quartered in the Ronville caves—over three thousand men underground. This was, indeed, good news, for now I could do some work among the men, which I had been longing to do.
The Ronville caves were just beyond the railway station, under the outskirts of Arras. Nearly all the buildings of the city, including the Cathedral of Arras, were built of chalk. This chalk had been quarried from the depths of the earth, as near as possible to the city. When all the chalk necessary had been excavated, lo! there remained the chalk caves of Ronville—a series of caves at the end of short tunnels that branched off from a great main tunnel miles in length.
After breakfast I went down to the convent and found Father Sheehan seated in his dining-room. Yes, he knew well the situation of the Ronville caves and would be only too pleased to accompany me to them. In a few minutes we were on our way to Arras. We went through the city, turned to our right just before we came to the railway station, passed over the iron overhead bridge crossing the railway tracks, turned a little to our left, and presently we were walking through a quadrangle, pitted deeply with old and new shell-holes, towards the entrance of the caves.
We passed through the opening and almost immediately were in complete darkness. We stumbled along for a little, I happening to be in the lead, then suddenly a long shaft of light shot silently ahead of me, illuminating the long white chalk corridor. Father Sheehan’s small flash-light was at work. Then as we came around a curve in our road we heard from far down in the corridor a muffled complaint; our light was shining in the eyes of some poor oncomer; so immediately we were in darkness again, though far down the corridor, seemingly attached to the wall, a light as from a candle glimmered. We advanced slowly, Father Sheehan flashing his lamp intermittently on the ground just ahead.
I visited all the battalions except the Thirteenth and had arranged to have the men come to confession and Holy Communion the following day, when we almost collided with two kilted officers in the Thirteenth Battalion tartan. One was the chaplain of the battalion, then Captain Graham, M. C., (afterwards Major Graham, M. C., D. S. O.) a Presbyterian, a brave soldier and a thorough gentleman; the other was a young Catholic officer who had but lately returned to his battalion after having been wounded. They had been looking for me. Captain Graham introduced the young officer, who was Captain E. Waud, and then left us. Captain Waud began very gently yet firmly to take me to task; “You have not been giving us an opportunity lately to go to confession, Father,” he said.
I jumped interiorly, for this was the first time I had been accused of not giving the men every opportunity of approaching the sacraments, but I liked that young officer then and there.
“Well, captain,” I said, “no later than last Wednesday night I stood under a tree in Chateau de la Haie waiting for all the soldiers who might come; the Fourteenth and Sixteenth showed up well, but many of the Thirteenth did not show up.”
“Oh,” he said, “we were at a concert that evening!”
“Well,” I returned, “I had announced confessions before supper, and if the men missed the opportunity of going by attending a concert it was not my fault. However,” I continued, “I have just announced confessions for tomorrow at all the battalion orderly rooms, excepting the Thirteenth. I am on my way there now.”
The young officer seemed very pleased, and promised to have all the Catholic soldiers of his company in New Plymouth cave the following morning at ten o’clock. “God bless you!” I said to him. “If all my Catholic officers were as eager to come to confession, and bring their men, as you are, my work would be made very much easier.”