To him who will but observe the genesis and development of moral qualities, whether in the individual Man or in the collective State, there finally comes, with compelling force, the conviction—God is in His world and has care of it! Out of the slime of things mundane, out of the very clay of Life's daily round of laughter and tears, loving and hating, striving and failing, living and dying—the romance of Peace, the Tragedy of War—God is still creating men and nations and vivifying them with soul

"Very well then, Father, you have my permission and best wishes." How the approving words and blessing of good Archbishop Mundelein thrilled me that memorable morning in 1918. The rain-washed freshness of April was abroad in Cass street; and the soft breeze, swaying the curtain of the Chancery window where he was seated, brought incense of budding tree and garden. Patiently he had listened, while I presented my reasons for wishing to become a war Chaplain. How, obedient to that call to National

Given sufficient time and mellowing, the butterfly eventually merges from the chrysalis; and it was with rapturous delight early June saw us exchange Camp Dodge for Camp Mills, Long Island! We were now on the shores of the Atlantic, and would soon tread the deck of our ship of dreams—a transport bound for Over There! Enter, now, the "season of our discontent!" It all grew out of the nature of the Commission I was holding. It was not at all satisfying. Commission in the Red Cross, I discovered, d

The gallant Seventh Division, destined to render a service well worthy of Old Glory, was then commanded by Brigadier General Baarth with Col. W. W. Taylor, Jr., Chief of Staff, and Col. John Alton Degan, Adjutant. It comprised the 34th, 55th, 56th and 64th Regiments of Infantry; the 6th and 7th Regiments of Field Artillery; 19th, 20th and 21st Machine Gun Battalions, 10th Field Signal Battalion and Divisional Sanitary and Supply Trains, with a complete field equipment of 32,000 men. The Chaplain

Vive la France! With all the emotion that must have thrilled the heart of Lafayette, sailing up the Chesapeake to Washington's assistance at Yorktown, we gazed on the rugged coast of Brittany. Our convoy alone, if you will, more than compensated, in point of number of troops at least, for the 20,000 who wore the fleur-de-lis at the surrender of Cornwallis. Mere number of troops, however, was not the question—it was all we then needed. France would, no doubt, have sent us more in 1783, even as we

Stepping from the train into the streets of Ancey-le-Franc was verily performing a miracle—with a single stride we were out of the twentieth century and into the eighteenth! We were among our contemporary ancestors, far on the road to yester century. Not a building under at least one hundred years of age—not a street but trodden by the Crusaders of St. Louis—the church of St. Sebastian dated 1673; and the Chateau, founded in 1275, by that hardy old Knight of Malta, Duke de Clermont Tonnere. With

Gallant Pershing was even then maneuvering his masterly all-American offensive in the San Michel. Our Seventh Division, with the 28th on the left and the 92d on the right, now reached the high full tide of martial responsibility; merging from the reserve into the attack; and taking its place with the Immortal Combat Divisions of proud Old Glory. The front line sector, which that night we took over, extended in a general westerly direction from north of Pont à Musson on the Moselle river to Vigne

I never recall those really worth while times without being reminded of a certain Lieutenant whose name I do not feel at present free to reveal. The attending circumstances were so deeply pathetic, and his confidence in me of a nature so sacred, I will but narrate the details without divulging his identity. Handsome, generous, brave, highly competent in military art, he was as skillful in getting action from his giant gun as he was masterful in evoking music from his violin! If there was anythin

"Where are you saying Mass next Sunday Chaplain?" "In Thiacourt," I replied. Just the shadow of a doubt flitted across the handsome face of Colonel Cummings, who nevertheless promptly responded, "All right, I'll be there." That Mass could safely be said in such a veritable inferno as Thiacourt November 1st offered very reasonable room for doubt. Located but a single kilometer from the front line trench, its ruins were shelled by day, and air bombed by night, with daring Fokers and Taubes finding

On Saturday night, November ninth, I had repaired to my dugout near Bouillonville, planning to say two Masses at distant points the following morning. I retired early to snatch a little rest. At midnight, Lieutenant D'Orleans rushed into the dugout and roused me, hoarsely whispering,—"Chaplain, a big movement is on!" Rolling from my blanket I hurried outside. The night was intensely dark; but there, in the valley before me, I could make out a long column of troops. For some days there had been g

Meanwhile our entire front was advancing, following the barrage waves. No more desperate struggle than ours could have been found at any point. Writing of that day, the official A. E. F. newspaper, "Stars and Stripes," under date of November 15th, declared: "Attack Before Vigneulles "Probably the hardest fighting being done by any Americans in the final hour was that which engaged the troops of the 28th, 92nd, 81st, and 7th Divisions with the Second American Army, who launched a fire-eating atta

"Major Whittington, I have not had a furlough since we landed in France." "I guess that's so, Chaplain; which city would you prefer visiting, Paris or Metz?" "Domremy—." "Domremy!" he exclaimed, "I never heard of the place. However, you may go." Then, with forced seriousness, added, "I believe you are needed in Domremy on Official Business." It was December eleventh. We had long been anxious to visit the birthplace of Joan of Arc. The story of her heroic brilliant life had ever interested and in