“The place of the Joyeux is where the powder talks, face to danger. They ever give proof of a calm energy, devilish courage, attentive obedience. They fight always with a good humor. In the midst of shells and bullets, in the hardest part of the struggle, they make droll and witty remarks. And when the end comes the Joyeux know how to die nobly.” “DOC OF THE FIFTH” The Conversion of the Rev. J. H. Clifford, “Y” Worker, into A Hero Among Marines Not every one understands that a soldier of the Lord has in him the material out of which to make a very effective soldier where shot and shell play havoc. The young men of the Army, Navy and Marines who went over to France to offer their lives in defense of their country’s ideals, discovered, in the experiences of the trenches, a something that rather cheapened in their estimation the forms and didactic solemnity of conventional religion. They had learned a more intimate thing, and it is the testimony of many clergymen that the “boys” found words only too cheap where works were in order. They had no hankering for sermons. They had caught an intimate understanding from the Unknown. They did not want to be preached to. Therein lies the secret of the affectionate familiar devotion of the men of the regiment to “Doc of the Fifth.” It is a story that has been told widely in the press, and has been requoted in numerous periodicals, but it is a delightful instance of what may be called the quiet heroisms of life. The Rev. John H. Clifford, minister of the Baptist Church in Tucson, Arizona, felt the urge to service on the other side when the United States began sending its boys to the fighting front. He promptly tendered himself as a “Y” worker, was accepted and sent abroad. His assignment carried him to the 5th Regiment of Illinois in the Vosges. He went prepared to do his duties as a minister of the Gospel and a servant of man. He wore the blouse and tunic of the chaplain, insignia that indicated to some of the “Boys” that superior altitude of moral pretension and holier-than-thouness they were unwilling to acknowledge too cordially. So when he tried to begin his work with the men of the 5th, he was greeted by the declaration, “We don’t want any damned parsons around here,” and for two weeks they held aloof, ignoring the efforts to establish religious services. But the Rev. John H. Clifford wasn’t a clergyman merely, he was a man—and he understood men. And this valuable asset incited a course of action destined to win the confidence and affection of those under his care. Instead, therefore, of standing on dignity and attempting to command the respect supposedly “due to the cloth,” he went to the men. He joined them in their hikes. He entered into their interests. He was ever ready to do his share and bear the equal hardships with them. They began to warm toward him, and finally, as one of the Marines put it, he was “adopted as a Leatherneck,” and he became to them “Doc”—“Doc of the Fifth.”