In a hospital for sick soldiers there was a young man lying in danger of death. There was little hope for his recovery. He was a Catholic, and more than once the priest asked him to prepare to die well.

But the dying soldier always answered, "Not yet. I will think of it tomorrow."

The next day he gave the same answer, but added, "I would like very much to make my Confession, but it is impossible for me to do so."

"What can make it impossible for you to make your Confession, my child?" asked the priest in the gentlest of tones.

The only answer the dying man gave was, "Don’t speak to me of this any more, I beg you, for I tell you that it is quite impossible."

The priest tried to show him the happiness and peace that fill the soul of a sinner who has obtained God’s pardon. He asked the dying man, for God’s sake and for the sake of his own immortal soul, to make his peace with God before it was too late.

The young Catholic shook his head. "It is no use, Father, for you to ask me to do this."

Then, pointing to the other soldiers in the room, he said to the priest, "Do you see those men there? What would they think or say if they saw me making my Confession? They would call me foolish, and would laugh at me! Oh no, I could not think of doing it."

The priest saw in an instant that human respect was the cause of the poor man’s stubbornness. This unfortunate young Catholic had more concern for what his fellow men thought of him, than for how God felt about him.

So the priest went to the group of soldiers, and said to them, "Comrades, you are making that man die an unhappy death."

Rather taken by surprise at such a statement, the soldiers asked, "How are we doing that?"

The priest replied, "He says that you would call him a coward and a fool if he made his Confession, and so he refuses to make it."

All of the men in that group stood up at once, and went over to the bed of their dying comrade.

"Do you think that we are pagans?" they exclaimed. "Instead of even thinking of calling you a coward if you made your Confession, we were quite worried about you, and were asking ourselves whether you intended to die like a dog or like a Catholic."

These words cured the young man. It showed him not only what his companions really thought, but also how close he had come to making the greatest mistake of his life—risking his eternal happiness out of embarrassment and human respect.

He called the priest to his side, and made his Confession. Then he received the Last Sacraments with great fervor, his comrades kneeling around his bed. An hour afterwards he died, and his soul went to the tribunal of Jesus Christ to be judged.