“I was wounded, lying on the ground over there in No Man’s Land,” he went on. “It was all dark and I was waiting for someone to come along and help me. I thought it was all up with me and while I was lying there I felt something. I can’t explain it, but I knew it was there and I saw my mother and I prayed. Then my Buddy came along and I asked him if he could baptize me. He said he wasn’t very good himself but he guessed the heavenly Father would understand. So he stooped down and got some muddy water out of a shell hole close by and put it on my forehead, and prayed; and now I know it’s all right. I wanted you to know.” Often the boys, just before they went over the top, would come to these girls and say: “We’re going up there, now. You pray for us, won’t you?” One day some boys came to the hut when there were not many about and asked the girls if they might talk with them. These boys were going over the top that night. “We fellows want to ask you something,” they said. “Some of the chaplains have been telling us that if we go over there and die for liberty that it’ll be all right with us afterward. But we don’t believe that dope and we want to know the truth. Do you mean to tell me that if a man has lived like the devil he’s going to be saved just because he got killed fighting? Why, some of us fellows didn’t even go of our own accord. We were drafted. And do you mean to tell me that counts just the same? We want to know the truth!” And then the girls had their opportunity to point the way to Jesus and speak of repentance, salvation from sin, and faith in the Saviour of the world. A lassie was stooping over one young boy lying on a cot, washing his face and trying to make him more comfortable, and she noticed a hole in his breast pocket. Stooping closer she examined it and found it was a piece of high explosive shell that had gone through the cloth of his pocket and was embedded in his Testament, which he, like many of the boys, always kept in his breast pocket. Another boy lay on a cot biting his lips to bear the agony of pain, and she asked him what was the matter, was the wound in his leg so bad? He nodded without opening his eyes. She went to ask the doctor if the boy couldn’t have some morphine to dull the pain. The Sergeant in charge came over and looked at him, examined the bandage on the boy’s leg and then exclaimed: “Who bandaged this leg?” “I did” said the boy weakly, “I did the best I could.” The poor fellow had bandaged his own leg and then walked to the hospital. The bandage had looked all right and no one had examined it until then, but the Sergeant found that it was so tight that it had stopped the circulation. He took off the bandage and made him comfortable, and the agony left him. In a little while the Salvation Army lassie passed that way again and found the boy with a little book open, reading. “What is it?” she asked, looking at the book. “My Testament,” he answered with a smile. “Are you a Christian?”