These words were uttered on the evening of the International Congress at Lourdes. Hearts and voices were raised in prayer. I, too, was filled with the thought of a peace which seemed as though it could have no end. But the General was filled with quite other thoughts. "No," he said, with that fine strength which is capable of facing the saddest emergencies and of stilling the fever which the thought of the dreaded future sends rushing to the brain. "No, it's no joke this time.... War is upon us." And he began to explain the international complications, the appalling pride of Germany faced by two alternatives, to expand or to perish. He showed me the uselessness of diplomacy--the treachery of international peace-parties--the rush of events towards the inevitable yet outrageous catastrophe. In a week or perhaps less, millions of men would receive marching orders, and Europe would be bathed in blood. Five days later, I left a deserted Lourdes. I read on the cover of my military certificate my destination for the first time ... my destination ... my orders to rejoin my unit ... and that simple piece of paper suddenly spoke to me with formidable eloquence. I was a soldier, and this time it was "no joke." I was going to fight. The citizen in me shuddered, as every one shuddered in those first terrible hours whose emotion still prolongs itself and is not likely to end soon. But the priest in me felt bigger, more human. To every one who asked if I were going too, I replied, "Yes, but not to kill--to heal, to succour, to absolve." I felt those tear-filled eyes gaze wistfully at me, and that in passing, I left behind me a feeling of trust, of comfort. A mother, whose five sons were going to the front, and who was seated near me in the train, said in a strong voice, but with the tears streaming down her cheeks: "They have scattered priests in all the regiments. You will be everywhere.... It is God's revenge!" How much anguish has been soothed, how many sacrifices have been accepted more bravely, at the thought, "they will be there." It was at the headquarters of a certain division of the Medical Service, during the first days of mobilisation. There, as everywhere, feverish preparation was going on--a tumultuous activity. Through the big town, the first regiment passed on their way to the firing line. How the fine fellows were acclaimed, how they were embraced! There were a thousand of us already, and we were the first to be called up. Half of us were priests, and our clerical garb attracted a lot of sympathy. The love of our country and the love of God so long separated were now as one. It is no longer time to scoff or to be indifferent to religion. People now wrung us by the hand, and came close up to us.