The Canadian people had entrusted them with
the care of their boys' souls. "Their souls," he cried. "I say our first
duty is to their bodies. I am not saying the percentage is large. It is
not as large as in the civilian population at home. But why any? We must
care for these men's bodies. They fight with their bodies."
His last sentence struck Barry to the heart. It recalled his own sermon,
spoken in Edmonton to his father's battalion. Immediately he was on his
feet, and without preface or apology, reproduced as far as he was able
the M. O.'s speech of the previous night, and that without expurgation.
There was but little discussion. There was but one opinion. It was
resolved to call a joint meeting of the chaplains and medical officers
to decide upon a course of action.
As Barry was leaving the meeting, the senior chaplain, an old Anglican
clergyman, with a saintly face and a smile that set one's tenderest
emotions astir, came to him, and putting his hand affectionately upon
his shoulder, said:
"And how is your work going, my dear fellow?"
It was to Barry as if his father's hand were upon his shoulder, and
before he was aware he was pouring out the miserable story of his own
sad failure as a chaplain.
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