Three years later the organist was killed by a shell while he was sitting at his post in the church he loved so well and had never seen.
When we were at Bethune a very important event in my military career took place.

In answer to repeated requests, Headquarters procured me a horse.

I am told that the one sent to me came by mistake and was not that which they intended me to have.

The one I was to have, I heard, was the traditional padre's horse, heavy, slow, unemotional, and with knees ready at all times to sink in prayer.

The animal sent to me, however, was a high-spirited chestnut thoroughbred, very pretty, very lively and neck-reined.