At about the same time，a young man in uniform—somewhere in Europe—was learning the same lesson.His name was Ted Bengermino，of 5716Newholme Road，Baltimore，Maryland—and he had worried himself into a first-class case of combat fatigue.
“In April，1945，”writes Ted Bengermino，“I had worried until I had developed what doctors call a ‘spasmodic transverse colon’—a condition that produced intense pain.If the war hadn’t ended when it did，I am sure I would have had a complete physical breakdown.
“I was utterly exhausted.I was a Graves Registration，Noncommissioned Officer for the 94th Infantry Division.My work was to help set up and maintain records of all men killed in action，missing in action，and hospitalised.I also had to help disinter the bodies of both Allied and enemy soldiers who had been killed and hastily buried in shallow graves during the pitch of battle.I had to gather up the personal effects of these men and see that they were sent back to parents or closest relatives who would prize these personal effects so much.I was constantlyworried for fear we might be making embarrassing and serious mistakes.I was worried about whether or not I would come through all this.I was worried about whether I would live to hold my only child in my arms—a son of sixteen months，whom I had never seen.I was so worried and exhausted that I lost thirty-four pounds.I was so frantic that I was almost out of my mind.I looked at my hands.They were hardly more than skin and bones.I was terrified at the thought of going home a physical wreck.I broke down and sobbed like a child.I was so shaken that tears welled up every time I was alone.There was one period soon after the Battle of the Bulge started that I wept so often that I almost gave up hope of ever being a normal human being again.
“I ended up in an Army dispensary.An Army doctor gave me some advice which has completely changed my life.After giving me a thorough physical examination，he informed me that my troubles were mental.‘Ted’，he said，‘I want you to think of your life as an hourglass.You know there are thousands of grains of sand in the top of the hourglass；and they all pass slowly and evenly through the narrow neck in the middle.Nothing you or I could do would make more than one grain of sand pass through this narrow neck without impairing the hourglass.You and I and everyone else are like this hourglass.When we start in the morning，there are hundreds of tasks which we feel that we must accomplish that day，but if we do not take them one at a time and let them pass through the day slowly and evenly，as do the grains of sand passing through the narrow neck of the hourglass，then we are bound to break our own physical or mental structure.’
“I have practised that philosophy ever since that memorable day that an Army doctor gave it to me.‘One grain of sand at a time....One task at a time.’That advice saved me physically and mentally during the war；and it has also helped me in mypresent position in business.I am a Stock Control Clerk for the Commercial Credit Company in Baltimore.I found the same problems arising in business that had arisen during the war：a score of things had to be done at once—and there was little time to do them.We were low in stocks.We had new forms to handle，new stock arrangements，changes of address，opening and closing offices，and so on.Instead of getting taut and nervous，I remembered what the doctor had told me.‘One grain of sand at a time.One task at a time.’By repeating those words to myself over and over，I accomplished my tasks in a more efficient manner and I did my work without the confused and jumbled feeling that had almost wrecked me on the battlefield.”
One of the most appalling comments on our present way of life is that half of all the beds in our hospitals are reserved for patients with nervous and mental troubles，patients who have collapsed under the crushing burden of accumulated yesterdays and fearful tomorrows.Yet a vast majority of those people would be walking the streets today，leading happy，useful lives，if they had only heeded the words of Jesus：“Have no anxiety about the morrow”；or the words of Sir William Osier：“Live in day-tight compartments.”
You and I are standing this very second at the meeting-place of two eternities：the vast past that has endured for ever，and the future that is plunging on to the last syllable of recorded time.We can’t possibly live in either of those eternities—no，not even for one split second.But，by trying to do so，we can wreck both our bodies and our minds.So let’s be content to live the only time we can possibly live：from now until bedtime.“Anyone can carry his burden，however hard，until nightfall，”wrote Robert Louis Stevenson.
“Anyone can do his work，however hard，for one day.Anyone can live sweetly，patiently，lovingly，purely，till the sun goes down.And this is all that life really means.”
Yes，that is all that life requires of us；but Mrs.E.K.Shields，815，Court Street，Saginaw，Michigan，was driven to despair—even to the brink of suicide—before she learned to live just till bedtime.
“In 1937，I lost my husband，”Mrs.Shields said as she told me her story.“I was very depressed—and almost penniless.I wrote my former employer，Mr.Leon Roach，of the Roach-Fowler Company of Kansas City，and got my old job back.I had formerly made my living selling books to rural and town school boards.I had sold my car two years previously when my husband became ill；but I managed to scrape together enough money to put a down payment on a used car and started out to sell books again.
“I had thought that getting back on the road would help relieve my depression；but driving alone and eating alone was almost more than I could take.Some of the territory was not very productive，and I found it hard to make those car payments，small as they were.