He was tended carefully, and then carried over to a quiet corner in the room.

I went over to him, and pointing to my collar said, "Pasteur." I knelt beside him and started the Lord's Prayer in German, which he finished adding some other prayer.

I gave him the benediction and made the sign of the cross on his forehead, for the sign of the cross belongs to the universal language of men.

Then the dying, friendless enemy, who had made expiation in his blood for the sins of his guilty nation, drew his hand from under the blanket and taking mine said, "Thank you." They carried him off to an ambulance, but I was told he would probably die long before he got to his destination.
On the 26th of September I spent the night in a dressing station in the sunken road near Courcelette.

I had walked from Pozieres down to the railway track, where in the dark I met a company of the Canadian Cyclist Corps, who were being used as stretcher bearers.