And so it is with the whole American army in France—­it always has singing in its soul, and courage, and manliness, and daring, and hope.  That kind of an army can never be defeated.  And no army in the world, and no power, can stand long before that kind of an army.

That kind of an army doesn’t have to be sent into battle with a barrage of shells in front of it and a barrage of shells back of it to force it in, as the Germans have been doing during the last big offensive, according to stories that boys at Chateau-Thierry have been telling me.  The kind of an army that, in spite of wounds and gas, “still has singing in its soul” will conquer all hell on earth before it gets through.

Then there is the memory of the boys in the shell-shock ward at this same hospital.  I had a long visit with them.  They were not permitted to come to the vesper service for fear something would happen to upset their nerves.  But they made a special request that I come to visit them in their ward.  After the service I went.  I reached their ward about nine, and they arose to greet me.  The nurse told me that they were more at ease on their feet than lying down, and so for two hours we stood and talked on our feet.

“How did you get yours?” I asked a little black-eyed New Yorker.

“I was in a front-line trench with my ‘outfit,’ down near Amiens,” he said.  “We were having a pretty warm scrap.  I was firing a machine-gun so fast that it was red-hot.  I was afraid it would melt down, and I would be up against it.  They were coming over in droves, and we were mowing them down so fast that out in front of our company they looked like stacks of hay, the dead Germans piled up everywhere.  I was so busy firing my gun, and watching it so carefully because it was so hot, that I didn’t hear the shell that suddenly burst behind me.  If I had heard it coming it would never have shocked me.”

“If you hear them coming you’re all right?” I asked.

“Yes.  It’s the ones that surprise you that give you shell-shock.  If you hear the whine you’re ready for them; but if your mind is on something else, as mine was that day, and the thing bursts close, it either kills you or gives you shell-shock, so it gets you both going and coming.”  He laughed at this.

“I was all right for a while after the thing fell, for I was unconscious for a half-hour.  When I came to I began to shake, and I’ve been shaking ever since.”

“How did you get yours?” I asked another lad, from Kansas, for I saw at once that it eased them to talk about it.

“I was in a trench when a big Jack Johnson burst right behind me.  It killed six of the boys, all my friends, and buried me under the dirt that fell from the parapet back of me.  I had sense and strength enough to dig myself out.  When I got out I was kind of dazed.  The captain told me to go back to the rear.  I started back through the communication-trench and got lost.  The next thing I knew I was wandering around in the darkness shakin’ like a leaf.”