Such incidents as these were not exceptional at the front or among men who have been at the front and have learned its lesson; I give them especially because they are typical. The men who were under fire together grew to overlook differences as barriers between man and man. They knew the many times that their lives depended on the courage and loyalty of the next man in the line--be he rich or poor, learned or ignorant, pious or infidel, virtuous or wicked. They grew to respect men for themselves, to serve them for themselves alone. The men used any stationery that came to hand, writing home indifferently on paper labeled Y. M. C. A. or K. of C., or Salvation Army, or Red Cross, or Jewish Welfare Board; they attended a picture show or boxing match under any auspices and were willing to help at any of the huts that served them. In the same way the welfare workers and chaplains overlooked one distinction after another, at the end serving all alike and regarding their status as soldiers alone. Once when I dropped into a strange camp two boys whom I had never seen crowded through the press of men in the Y. M. C. A. hut; they had seen the insignia of the 27th, and being fresh from hospital, appealed to me to help them back to the division that they might return home with their own units. I was never surprised when non-Jews came to me for advice in ordinary cases, but I have had such extreme instances as a Jew and non-Jew coming together, to ask advice in a case where both felt they had been discriminated against by their commanding officer. In hospital work, in front line service, even in the ordinary routine of the rest area, we came closer to one another than ever in civil life. As I said above, the logical climax of friendly cooeperation comes when ministers of different faiths assist each other in their own work. I shall never forget a day in that busy October at the front when I met a Baptist chaplain belonging to our division. "Hello," he said, "I've just come to headquarters here to look for you and a priest." "All right, what can I do for you?" "Well," was his reply, "our battalion goes into the line tonight, and I wanted the Jewish and Catholic boys to have their services, too. If you can come over at four o'clock, I'll have the priest come at six." And so I came there at four, to find the fifteen Jewish soldiers grouped about a large tree near the battalion headquarters; the chaplain had notified them all. And, as the barn was both dirty and crowded, we held our little service under the tree, even though the rain began in the middle of it. Two of those boys did not come back three days later, and one was cited for heroism, so that I have often remembered the immeasurable service which the cooeperation of that chaplain meant for his men.