ion of oats, and leaving him secure from
gas, I proceeded forward on foot.

Shrapnel was bursting all about, and its sharp, sizzling echo, against
walls still standing, made maddening din.

Dodging from building to building up the deserted front street I reached
a point opposite the Hotel de Ville in time to see the front of a
building one hundred yards to the left blown completely out by a
bursting shell. The church was but a heap of smoking ruins.

In the courtyard of a large building, that a few days before was
headquarters of the German staff, I was welcomed by boys of the 55th
Infantry. It was a platoon in command of Lieutenant Coughlan of Mobile,
Alabama.

This gallant young man, nephew of Capt. Coughlan who sailed with Dewey
into Manila Bay, was every inch a hero. Just the day before he had held
a front sector against terrible odds when the platoon on his right had
fallen back under heavy gas attack with its commander mortally wounded.
In this encounter Coughlan was badly gassed himself, and could not speak
above a whisper. "I know the Latin, and can serve your Mass all right,
Chaplain, if you can stand for my whispers."

An altar was improvised out of a richly carved sideboard standing in the
courtyard. After a goodly number had gone to Confession, a crowd of some
two hundred assembled for the Mass. At this moment Colonel Cummings,
true to his word that he would be on hand, strode into the yard.

The boys knelt around, wearing their steel helmets, and with masks at
"alert." My vestments consisted simply of a stole worn over my cassock.
Helmet and mask lay easily within reach at one side. The firing,
meanwhile, was terrific--high explosive shells shrieking overhead and
bursting on every side. Rifle and machine-gun bullets added their shrill
tenor notes to the orchestral wail of gun fire.

I had prepared a sermon, but, amid such din, I, for a moment, questioned
the possibility and even propriety of delivering it. I decided in the
affirmative, and raised my voice in challenge to the wild clamor of
death.

As I looked upon the battle-stained faces before me, I felt how pleasing
it all must have been in the sight of Him who feared not Death of old,
and who said on the hills of Galilee: "Greater love than this no man
has, that he give up his life for his friends."

Mass over, the boys quickly disappeared into neighboring dugouts.
Colonel Cummings was greatly pleased with it all, remarking, "As soon
as you b