“When we are fortunate enough to be able to set up our field chapel, or to celebrate Mass and Benediction in some church half-destroyed by the enemy, it is a curious spectacle to see the officers mingled indifferently with their men ‘waiting their turn.’ No favour is shown to the commissioned ranks--one chaplain hears the confession, the other gives Holy Communion. Sometimes when danger is reported too near one gives Communion that evening... by way of _viaticum_. Sometimes when the order to advance comes unexpectedly we have to give absolution _en bloc_ to a whole company ... on condition of subsequent confession later when the recipient returns... if he does return!” It is the same with the enemy’s wounded. The Abbé, not without a gleam of humour, shows himself acting as interpreter between a French Lutheran minister, who did not know German, and German wounded of his denomination. “The most scrupulous theologian might perhaps find in my exhortations certain grammatical faults, but not, I think, any capital error of dogma.” Assuredly it is long years since, in the fair plains of France, Mass was celebrated in such settings of beauty and terror. This is how a Montmartrois attended it in a village church-- “I was returning with the rest of a fatigue party from digging potatoes for the company.... With the clay still on my hands I managed to work my way into a place beside my lieutenant, a commandant, a sergeant, and some comrades. The elevation had been reached.... And then in the choir the fresh, clear voices of young girls intoned the canticle: ‘Mary, Queen of France, protect us!’ My nerves could not bear the tension, and then ... well, I hid my face in my képi. “They sang very prettily, the little country maidens, and the three canticles to Joan of Arc (which I did not know!) were ‘the right thing in the right place.’... I offered a prayer of thanks to the good God for having protected me against all dangers. “The poor old priest... Mass finished, turned round in front of the altar and said to us in a strangled voice: ‘And now, valiant soldiers,... go to victory!’” Or they pray in the open. “Imagine a very beautiful valley, planted with great trees all yellowing with autumn, horses tied to every trunk, huts of every kind, shape, and style, soldiers of all arms: the whole forming a picture of incomparable dignity. “The altar was set up against two giant oaks. There were more than a thousand soldiers present, including the Staff, generals, colonels and commandants.” And this is how Cardinal Lucon celebrated his Christmas Mass in a cellar in bombarded Rheims--