In the French Army, now, I had a different standing than at first. Our unit in its entirety was taken over and we became _brancardiers_, or stretcher bearers, in the Second Army of France. Accordingly we were quartered in the army barracks. For some time after I got back from Belgium there were days of blood and thunder as a fearful offensive had been launched by the Germans. An entire change of heart had now come over me. I who had been a kind of peaceful milk and water ecclesiastical pacifist to now stand beside the boys with the guns and even sleep with the poilus whose main object is to kill Germans, and approve of it, was unusual to say the least, and I thought it would shock some of the deacons back in my tranquil church at home. I was ready to even risk a guess that some of my befrocked clerical friends would be surprised. But I figured that when universal freedom was at stake, as I now clearly saw it was, I could not afford to be a neutral even though I was a Presbyterian preacher. I could not resist my conscience. As I look at it now, I wish they would put a number of these "conscientious objectors" into the same kind of service. That experience was the best thing that ever happened to me. I became enthusiastic for the Allies and the war, and dead against the Kaiser and his gang. Soon after this I was dispatched to a certain place near L---- for duty. I found a man who had just been out on a wire-cutting expedition. As I lifted him on to the stretcher he said, "Well, I did it anyhow." Then with some effort he related the following experience to me: "When the order was given that we would go 'over the top' at three o'clock in the morning, and take the Germans' first line trench, our boys were ready. There was no 'try to take it' nor 'attack it,' but 'we will go over the top and take it.' There was a note of finality in the wording of the order, which we well understood. Our lieutenant then came down to our fire bay and asked who would volunteer to go out at midnight and cut the lanes. He was looking right at me, and said 'Vincent, how about it?' I timidly replied, 'I'll go, sir.' There was no way out. I am frank to confess that after I got to thinking about it, my knees began to shake. The more I thought, the worse they got. I had given my word, though, and I wouldn't be a quitter. I don't think there is any yellow streak in me, but there is a lot of human nature. I love life. I got to thinking of my past and the words of Shakespeare ran in my mind, 'Conscience doth make cowards of us all.' I wasn't scared, I was paralyzed.