But it was in the final tableau of that morning's work that I remember him best. It was a long-range gun as he said; and they put in fifteen twelve-inch shells in an hour, round about the square. Two got the hospital, and one hit a barber's shop where an officer was being shaved. I remember we saw him with half his face lathered, and later on we found his hand still gripping the arm of the chair. As for the barber--God knows---- We sorted out the remnants of some children from the debris of one house; and I left O'Shea after a while with a little kid of eight or nine in his arms. She was booked for God's nursery, and the passing was not going to be easy, for she was hit--nastily. And it was while Jimmy was nursing the poor torn atom with the tenderness of a woman that another sergeant of his battalion came on the scene to see if he could help. "God! Jimmy," I heard him say, "this makes one sick." "Sick!" O'Shea's voice was quiet. "Sick! I've stuck many of them, thank the powers, but never again--never again, my bucko--will it be anywhere save in the stomach. Anything else is too quick." I looked at his face; and I understood. . . . Yes--I understood because I had seen: otherwise, I should not. He would have been talking another language--one to which I was a stranger: even as were those around me, in that London restaurant, strangers--even as the men, when they first come to France, are strangers. That is the point which is in danger at times of being overlooked, especially by those who remain behind. The men are not changed in nature because they don a khaki coat, or even because they go into the trenches. They have gone to a new school, that is all; and if they would do well they must learn all the lessons--the many and very divergent lessons--they are taught. For in the hotch-potch of war there is a strange mixture of the material and the spiritual; and though at present I am concerned with the former, the latter is just as important. It is the material side of which the men such as Jimmy O'Shea are the teachers. Unless the pupils learn from the O'Sheas, they will have to do so from the Hun. And the process may not be pleasant. . . .