"As he goes on his way the Padre distributes out of his well-filled haversack gifts which have come from kind-hearted people at home.... A fig, a handful of raisins, a packet of 'Woodbines' (greatest of all luxuries in the opinion of 'Tommies' and 'Jocks'), a box of matches, an old illustrated paper, a little bottle of perfume, or a little bag of perfume for the uneasy and restless. These are some of the contents of the wonderful haversack, and words cannot express the value of the good things. The men look on them as love-tokens from home. "These men deserve our best care. They are brave in suffering as they have been in service. Their pluck is extraordinary, and the instances I now put down in my note-book prove the assertion. "In one of the field hospitals there are two men in the same tent, and occupying beds next to each other. One man has had his left leg amputated above the knee, the other his right leg. Both are recovering and are as happy as sand boys. 'Good job, sir,' says one, 'it isn't the same leg with both of us. One pair of boots will do between us when we are allowed to get up.' "In another tent lies a 'Jock' shot in the back in two places, and with his left arm shattered by shrapnel. He, too, is mending and developing an alarming appetite for theological argument. Pluck, the doctor says, is a miracle-worker here. "In a third tent is a lad with paralysis, the result of a bullet wound in the region of the spine. He believes he will recover and says he must hurry up, as no other fellow in the regiment can valet the Colonel as he can.... "As a rule the wounded are eager for the chaplain's visit. They want a talk, and very often the talk turns steadily to the thing that counts. Men are not ashamed to discuss religion, and get to the subject often without much manoeuvring. That is not surprising. Very many have been in the Valley of the Shadow, and they tell you that they found God there. 'One' was with them--they cannot explain it, but they remember it. And a soldier is a strong partisan. The hard fact is that God was with them, and now they want to tell you what God is to them. "One lad (he is little more than a boy in years) said to me when he was telling me all about the battle of the Aisne, where he was wounded: "'I never knew before then what it was to pray. Of course, I had learnt to say my prayers, but I never really prayed till that day at the Aisne. We all went into the battle singing "You made me do it, I didn't want to do it," but when we got in the trenches it was like hell. You should have seen some men dropping on their knees and praying. Why, the whole regiment seemed to be praying. I know I was praying, and somehow I felt better, and I've prayed every night running since.'