She gave the news as if she were confessing a fault, a "culp" for herself and her Sisters: "O mon pere, nous n’avons rien fait toute la matinee sauf ecouter la radio"!

Knowing full well that the nuns did not usually spend the whole morning listening to the radio, or any part of the day for that matter, we were taken aback and asked for an explanation.

It was now her turn to be surprised. "Have you not heard, the Allies have landed in Normandy and have established a bridgehead" (Une tete de pont). We had little idea of what a "bridgehead" from the sea meant in military terms; but clearly they were ashore!

The excitement that day was indeed tremendous; a day when little things are remembered long after much else has been forgotten. "Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive" ! We felt as if we were a part of history. History has indeed recorded the invasion of the Continent as an achievement of the highest order. The dramatic story of Europe’s greatest ordeal in the Second World War.

We arrived at the end of June. "Bounteous Nature loves all lands, beauty wanders everywhere"! The curtain now rises on a widely different scene.

Rolling green hills covered with orchards and woods, rich in streams and springs; the Ardennes constitutes one of the major geographical regions of Belgium.

Clairefontaine, in the valley of the fountains, a name unknown perhaps to secular historians, but rich in Religious legend. St Bernard passed this way on his journey to Claireveaux in the days when the area was called "Beaulieu". Countess Ermesinde established here a great convent for an Order of Nuns. And in 1889 Father Dehon established a fine Junior Seminary for his fledgling Society.

It was here that our group spent the months of July, August and September. Far removed from any main road and from any big town, life was placid and peaceful. Long hikes over the hills; deer-stalking in the woods; swimming in the cool streams; bonfires in the evening around which we sang: "Sarie Marais"; "Morgenrot"; "La Legende du Feu"; "Mon pere ainsi qu’ ma mere", and many other numbers from two Scouts’ song books; "Tiouli and l’Olifant".

Although well away from the battle-zone, we managed to keep ‘au fait’ with the news. The situation on the Western Front was agreeable. But the enemy fought desperately and were not easily overcome. Nevertheless good progress was made except for the failure to capture Caen.

This small but famous town, birthplace of William the Conquerer, was to be the scene of bitter struggles over many days.

Beyond the battlefields other events influenced the future. On 20th July came the famous attempt on Hitler’s life.

He was holding a Conference in his headquarters in East Prussia when, at 12.40, a bomb placed under his desk went off.

The Fuhrer was only slightly wounded, but all the fury of his nature was aroused by the plot, and the vengeance he inflicted on all suspected of being in it was swift and medieval, and makes a terrible tale.

One general result of the plot was the tightening of security measures everywhere.

Our School at Clairefontaine was now occupied by a company of German soldiers - about a hundred men. However they kept strictly to themselves and did not interfere with us in any way. They occupied the boys’ vacant dormitories, and their officers, including a Brigadier, occupied a suite in the residential area.

The Belgians went mad with joy, dancing in the streets and mobbing the soldiers in the tanks and trucks; and feting the Belgian Brigade, which was their vanguard.

Everyone came into the road with flags, banners, wine, and a variety of refreshments, just to savour the sensation of being free again.

In the Southern Sector the Americans made rapid advances through the Ardennes and the Grand Duchy. They were very generous with cigarettes, chocolate, and "cookies" of every kind. We were entertained by them on several occasions in Arlon and Luxemburg. We called on the Bishop Mgr Philippe, our former Superior General, and he gave us a souvenir card +"Semper Memor Josephus" 1944.

But the Western Allies had sustained a strategic reverse. The Germans were still holding out in Holland the Siegfried Line had not been penetrated; there was an enforced pause. But the College term opened as usual on 1st October and lectures proceeded as normal.

Our programme was: De Sacramentis in Genere; De Ordine; De Justitia; De Virtutibus moralibus; De Virtutibus theologicis; Theologia moralis generalis; De Sacramentis in specie.

In mid-October we learned via Rome of the death of Father Kusters. It was remembered that he was the Founder of our Scholasticate at Louvain in 1906; and Fr P O’Sullivan, ordained the previous July, offered a Community Mass for him in the College Chapel, RIP.

Not since Pearl Harbour on 7th December 1941 had the Americans received so rude a shock as when the dawn of 16th December 1944 was broken by the thunder of a thousand guns.

German guns, heralding a most determined onslaught! The German commanders knew the narrow roads of the Ardennes, with their hairpin bends and steep hillsides, very well. They had come that way in 1940.

But in that ill-fated year the French and the B.E.F. did not have a single armoured Division to counter the surprise breakthrough In 1944 the Anglo-American armies were well-equipped with armoured formations; even their infantry divisions were mechanised.

The Germans had the element of surprise but that was all; they were very short of petrol. On any straightforward assessment it was a gambler’s throw that, given the Allied strength, was bound to fail; and the Allied counter-strike would be devastating!

The Allies were taken off balance. Thousands of American soldiers were rounded up, encircled, or over-run.

At Louvain we listened to the war-bulletins in some trepidation. The Germans had reached Dinant, a mere fifty miles away. But they did not cross the Meuse.

For a while neither side seemed very happy about the progress of the battle. However, just before Christmas the skies cleared, and the combined fleets of the R.A.F. and the American Air Force took to the air. They gave the long road-bound German columns a great hammering. But the Ardennes was not good tank country and the German defence was just as stubborn as the American attack. It was a swaying battle.

Villages changed hands more than once and, because of the conditions which featured deep snowdrifts and ice-bound roads, the Allies’ progress was far from spectacular.

The battle ended on 16th January 1945 when the Germans had been pushed back to their starting point. They had lost 110,000 men, the Americans 80,000.

One remembered T Campbell’s poem on another battle - "Linden":

This was the final German offensive of the war in the West. The reality seemed to be that Hitler had invested all his decisive military strength in this venture.

And it had been badly blunted.

The Winter of 1944-45 was very severe, but fuel was now more plentiful and studies proceeded without interruption.

The war bulletins featured the rapid Allied advance through Germany.

Notable events were the passing of thousands of transport planes, each towing a glider, on their way to Germany, and to the ill-fated adventure at Arnhem. The Rhine was crossed, and large numbers of flying-bombs passed over Louvain on their way to London.

On the night of 29th April the British crossed the Elbe and next day, 30th April, Hitler shot himself and went to join the thirty million who had fallen victim to his ambitions.

The Allies accepted the unconditional surrender of Germany. The Commander-in-Chief made a brief announcement; we heard it over the air. It said: "The mission of this Allied Force was fulfilled at 3.00 am 7th May 1945. Eisenhower".

The announcement was heard in silence. And silence was his greatest applause.

Military history is about people; about how they react to the stresses and strains of war; even when the chronicle and discussion of great military and political events hangs upon the thread of personal recollections and experiences of an individual.

The study of the past is always worthwhile; it would be wrong not to lay its lessons before the future.

In mid-July we went to Tervuren for two months’ holiday and relaxation.

It was then we heard of a dramatic incident that occurred at the School gates a few months previously. Long columns of German soldiers, beaten and in disarray, were on their way home. It was clear that the majority did not fully comprehend the realities of their situation, or what was happening. Wellington once said that a beaten army is merely a slightly sadder spectacle than a victorious army! Be that as it may, these retreating Germans were still in a defiant and truculent mood. They suddenly espied the college Rector with his camera, taking snapshots.

They shouted abuse. A Sergeant stormed up, snatched the camera, threw it on the ground and stamped on it. A good camera was destroyed but, given the temper of the hour, all agreed the Rector got off lightly.

The consequences might have been much worse. They were much worse for a German sniper caught just outside the gate of our College at Louvain. This too was during the German retreat. A soldier stayed behind, hidden in a copse. He was clearly there for several days and may have been a deserter. But he shot and killed a British soldier, and then came out with his hands raised. Three Britishers went to take him, and one dragged the German’s own bayonet from its scabbard and plunged it deep into the man’s guts. There is never any mercy in any quarter in any army for snipers!

The road across those years of the most merciless of all wars of which record has been kept, was long and hard and sometimes perilous.

Many perished upon it. Those who marched forward to the end will always be grateful; and proud of the privilege.

Our Jesuit Professors reflected, not only in their theological lectures but also in their Spiritual Direction, on that very distinctive mark of Catholic spirituality, as opposed to all systems of private judgement or self-guided mysticism, that inner experience must be brought to the test of objective dogma, and also should be moulded by that comprehensive tradition of practical religion which is embodied in the admirable structure of Catholic discipline. A fixed yet rational standard of belief, and a clear-cut consistent philosophy whereby to assay all new forms of learning.

The students found nothing repressive or mechanically imposed in this teaching. It is only mis-guided individualism which is eliminated. When licence is obviated liberty is increased.

Within the great corporate life of Catholicism there is ample room for every individuality. Dehonian Spirituality is, of course, based on the life and teaching of Fr Dehon, on love of God and Reparation to the Sacred Heart.

With equal soundness of spirituality and accuracy of insight, the Dehonian Spiritual Direction counselled the elimination of anxieties, distractions and worries, not so much by direct counter-attack and detailed defence, as by the energising power of a great ideal. In our case the immediate ideal was Ordination. This would take place in July.

The war was over and won, but a shadow had fallen upon the scenes so lately lighted by the Allied victory.

The Communist parties in Europe were encouraged by Russia to seize totalitarian control everywhere. Mass expulsions of peoples, especially Germans, on a scale grievous and undreamed of, were taking place.

All this caused alarm and consternation in Western Europe and was constantly debated by the students.

The Easter holidays were spent on a cycling tour of Holland, with ‘bases’ in our Houses there; especially Bergen, Helmond, Heer and Nijmegen.

The Rhine bridge at Nijmegen still bore the scars of the fierce hand-to-hand fighting that had taken place there. We crossed the frontier into Germany here and there; but only for short distances. Later, we spent a few days cycling in the north of the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg.

For the third term of this third year of theology the programme included: De Ordine; Notiones de Clericis in specie; De Religiosis, De Censuris; De Iure; De Prophetis in Israel; De Scriptis Joanneis; De Libris historicis.

One month later, on 16th July, we were ordained Priests.

Ordination is never a sudden romantic achievement. It is the fruit of many years of humdrum faithfulness and preparation and hard study.

When the Provincial presented the ten candidates to the Bishop and formally asked him to ordain them, the Bishop in turn asked him the prescribed question: "Scis eos esse dignos?" (Do you know if they are worthy?). Each knew in his heart that he was not worthy. But he took consolation from the words of St Paul that: "Christ died for us while we were yet sinners".

Each Ordinand was also more profoundly and more personally moved by one or other aspect of the three-hour ceremony. For some it was the laying-on of hands with the invocation of the Holy Sprit and the Authority to Absolve. For others it was the presentation of the Chalice and Paten with the commission: "Accipe potestatem offere Sacrificium Deo, Missam celebrare tam pro vivis quam pro defunctis" (Receive power to offer Sacrifice to God, to celebrate Mass for the living and for the dead).

For all it was, of course, the greatest day of their lives, the goal of all their desires, never to be forgotten. They were also deeply conscious of the words of the Divine Master: "You have not chosen me, I have chosen you, and I have commissioned you to bring forth fruit; fruit that will last".

Each one felt as if he were walking with Destiny and that all his past life had been but a preparation for this hour and for this trial.

Wordsworth’s "Intimations of Immortality" was relevant:

The sacred words of the Communion Antiphon of the Ordination Mass, as sung by the Choir, were also very consoling and supportive: "Iam non dicam vos servos sed amicos" (I do not call you servants, but friends).

First Masses were celebrated next day in different localities, some in the Scholasticate and some in local churches. F Murray and G Jordan said their First Mass in the Irish Franciscan College, founded in Penal Days - early 16th century.

On 18th July they left for a two month holiday in Ireland; their first visit there for seven years. It is the custom in Belgium for the newly-ordained to visit the various Colleges and Houses of the Society for Mass and celebrations -Tervuren, Burnot, Clairefontaine, Lanaeken - in all of which, on and off, we had spent happy holidays. We were invited but decided to postpone the visits to a future occasion.

But we visited Malpas, Earl-Shilton and Redbourn on our return journey; renewed old acquaintances and met new friends in very enjoyable surroundings.

We arrived back in Louvain on 28th September for the fourth and final year of theology.

Belgium was recovering rapidly from the war. But it is often in these periods of tragic confusion that the living realities of the future germinate, and the sinews of rebirth are fashioned.

The flash of recollection, the mere placement of the past, the assembling of details, one after the other, recreate the mosaic of yesteryear; and give a pleasure that is by no means discountenanced by the grim images of war.

One cannot expect memories to come back without the normal wear and tear of years; but there are details here and there that stand out like landmarks and call for random, if intricate, examination; "as music sweetly played".

Musical evenings at the Jesuit College were such landmarks; and a much-valued recreation. The choice of music was by personal request and attracted talent from various groups in the city. The lovely tunes: "Mississippi" and "Swanee River" brought back fond memories, as did Tom Moore’s "Irish Melodies" with their reminders of the Eternal values of light, life and love:

The Easter holidays were spent in holiday-camps mostly in East Flanders and at the seaside. Many children and young people had suffered privation during the war, and the Belgian authorities arranged holiday-camps for them. SCJ students took part in this work and found it very interesting and rewarding.

It is not easy in these latter days to portray for another generation the years of intense moral and physical stress and exertion through which we passed; an intensity never before experienced. Life in those days was an endless moving picture, in which one was an actor; and on the whole enjoyable. But the years 1939-1947, which are the staple of these notes, exceeded in vividness, variety and execution anything we have ever known.

The year 1947 brought news of the Official Foundation of the new English Province of the Society of the Sacred Heart Fathers. This was good news indeed; future students would not be enforced exiles. They would feel free to go abroad, or take again their homeward road.

Our own trials and troubles had borne fruit; the past and the future would join. The possible sacrifice indeed was terrible, but the enterprise was great and was needful.

In a world distraught by civil and military debacle they could exhibit a coolness of judgement and an immutability of purpose in no way inconsistent with their Religious Vocation; but which were in fact the necessary effects of it. They could identify with John Keats in his eager quest for a new life and new horizons:

The intensity of their feelings on one subject made them tranquil on every other. One overpowering sentiment had subjected to itself earthly ambition and earthly fear.

It sometimes might lead them to pursue unwise ends; but never to choose unwise means. There is only one thing more important than doing what you have set out to do, and that is after you have done it to feel that it has been worth doing.

Between survival and victory there are many stages. Two years in the Novitiate, two years at philosophy, four years at theology, and usually on the Continent two years prefecting and teaching in the colleges. It is a long professional course.

The British-Irish Province is deeply conscious of the debt it owes to the former Belgian-Luxemburg Province for the training and hospitality extended to its students during their formative years. They would remember in the after-time what happy profitable years they had spent together, and what staunch friends they had made.

Human society can grow in forms not always comprehended by the secular world. The International Major Seminary was a grand school for anyone; an "Alma Mater". Education stays with you for the rest of your life. A returning, visiting "almunus", revolving many memories, might reminisce: "Here was where I received my personal education. This is my old school. Whatever curriculum and discipline other people may cling to or rebel against from their student days, here is where my standards were established".

To obey, or try not to obey, to revolt against or slyly circumvent; but always either way to persevere. Standards which, no matter how regarded, can never be forgotten; we wear them in the deep heart’s core. It was a wide canvas, crammed with a wide variety of characters.

Discipline, Community life, good comradeship were among the lessons it taught and these were just as valuable as the lore and the learning of the Lecture-Halls. The SCJ students at Louvain were privileged to have had both.

They were very conscious too of their Dehonian Heritage. Their spirit would be their unity in every land, their ideal, their rallying-point in every clime.

38 They would be messengers everywhere of a Love that is unrequited, but the more unrequited the more abounding in love. Dedicated to the same cause and nourished from the same spiritual rock, however varied their apostolate might be, they would form none the less one great homogeneous family; faithful at home and steadfast still abroad. But they lived and learned in the world of Saint Thomas Aquinas, with his Scholastic Philosophy and Summa Theologica. A world about to die.

With Vatican II waiting below the horizon, a world about to be born:

It is a very great, and indeed unique, privilege to be their voice; to feel like:

They are also dedicated to all those other wonderful people, families and friends, to whom we owe so much; who, during difficult and dangerous times, struggled and sacrificed on our behalf; and prayed for us unceasingly: