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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE SOUL OF THE SOLDIER</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Soul of the Soldier" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Thomas Tiplady" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1918" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="46323" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2014-07-18" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Soul of the Soldier Sketches from the Western Battle-Front" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Soul of the Soldier Sketches from the Western Battle-Front" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="soul.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2014-07-18T18:59:42.775320+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46323" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Thomas Tiplady" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2014-07-18" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-soul-of-the-soldier"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE SOUL OF THE SOLDIER</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Soul of the Soldier -<br /> Sketches from the Western Battle-Front -<br /> -<br />Author: Thomas Tiplady -<br /> -<br />Release Date: July 18, 2014 [EBook #46323] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE SOUL OF THE SOLDIER</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 74%" id="figure-28"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover art" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover art</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 56%" id="figure-29"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Captain Guy Drummond, 13th Royal Canadian Highlanders. Killed in action, April, 1915. "A SON OF THE MOTHERLAND"" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Captain Guy Drummond, 13th Royal Canadian Highlanders. -<br />Killed in action, April, 1915. -<br />"A SON OF THE MOTHERLAND"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="xx-large">The Soul </span><em class="italics xx-large">of</em><span class="xx-large"> The Soldier</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics large">Sketches from the Western -<br />Battle-Front</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">THOMAS TIPLADY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Chaplain to the Forces</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Author of "THE CROSS AT THE FRONT," etc.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO -<br />Fleming H. Revell Company -<br />LONDON AND EDINBURGH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1918, by -<br />FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">New York: 158 Fifth Avenue -<br />Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave. -<br />London: 21 Paternoster Square -<br />Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO THE MEMORY OF THE MANY "WHITE MEN"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I have known and loved in the London Territorials, who, -being dedicate to their Country and the cause of Liberty, went -over the parapet and did not return.</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"These laid the world away; poured out the red</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Sweet wine of youth: gave up the years to be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That men call age; and those who would have been</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their sons they gave--their immortality."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">THE MOTHER'S ANSWER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>God gave my son in trust to me.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Christ died for him. He should be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A man for Christ. He is his own</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And God's and man's, not mine alone.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He was not mine to give. He gave</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Himself, that he might help to save</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All that a Christian should revere</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All that enlightened men hold dear.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"To feed the guns." Ah! torpid soul,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Awake, and see life as a whole.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When freedom, honor, justice, right,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were threatened by the despot's might,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He bravely went for God, to fight</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Against base savages, whose pride</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The laws of God and man defied;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who slew the mother and the child;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who maidens, pure and sweet, defiled;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He did not go to feed the guns,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He went to save from ruthless Huns</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His home and country, and to be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A guardian of democracy.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"What if he does not come?" you say;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Well, then, my sky will be more gray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But through the clouds the sun will shine</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And vital memories be mine.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>God's test of manhood is, I know</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not, will he come--</span><em class="italics">but did he go</em><span>?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>JAMES L. HUGHES.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">PREFACE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The sketches in this book and in my -previous one, "The Cross at the -Front," are attempts to show the soul -of the soldier serving in France as I have -seen it during the year and a half that I have -been with him. It is a padre's privilege and -duty to be the voice with which, in public -worship, the soldiers speak to God; and -through which their last thoughts are borne to -their friends at home. He is their voice both -when they are sick or wounded, and when they -lie silent in the grave. He speaks of their -hopes and fears, hardships and heroisms, -laughter and tears. As best he may he tries -to tell, to those who have a right and a -longing to know, how they thought, and how they -bore themselves in the great day of trial when -all risked their lives and many laid them down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soldiers, as a rule, are either inarticulate or -do not care to speak of themselves; and the -padre has to be their spokesman if ever their -deeper thoughts and finer actions are to be -known to their friends. To do this he may -have to bring himself into the picture, or even -illustrate a common thing in their lives by a -personal experience of his own. To reveal life -and thought at the Front in the third person, -and without sacrificing truth and vividness, -requires a degree of literary power and art which -cannot be expected of a padre to whom writing -is but a by-product, and not his main work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have written but little of military -operations--these things are not in my province. -Moreover, they are not the things which are -most revealing. The presence of Spring is first -and most surely revealed by the flowers in our -gardens and lanes; and the soldier is most -clearly seen in the little things that happen on -the march--in his billet or in the Dressing -Station. Some things are not seen at all. They -are only felt, and my opinion about them must -be taken for what it is worth. One knows -what the men are by their influence on one's -own mind and life. I do not judge the -morality and spirituality of our soldiers -entirely by their habits and speech, for these are -but outward and clumsy expressions of the -inner life and are largely conventional. There -is something else to put in the reckoning, and -to find out what the soldiers are worth to us -we must somehow get behind their words and -actions and find out what they are worth to -God, whose terrible wheel of war is shaping -their characters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I appraise them mostly by the total effect -of the impact of their souls on mine. I know -their thoughts and feelings by the thoughts -and feelings they inspire in me. "Do men -gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles?" There -are certain thoughts and emotions that -only come to me strongly when I am with the -soldiers or when I am living again with them -in memory, and so, I take these as their gift -to me and judge the men by their influence -on my character. Character is, in its -influence, subtle as Spring. Words and actions -by themselves are too coarse and conventional -to do anything but mislead us in judging the -quality of our men. "By their fruits ye shall -know them." Not by their leaves. Fruit is -</span><em class="italics">seed</em><span>. In the seed the tree reproduces itself. -And reproduction, whether in physical, moral -or spiritual life, is the test of vitality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have not unduly loaded my pages with -ghastly details of war, because their effect on the -mind of the reader who has not been at the -Front would be false and distorting. The -reader would be more horrified in imagining -them than our soldiers are in seeing them. I -have tried rather to show life at the Front, -with its mingling of red and gold, horror and -happiness, as it affects the soldier; so that his -friends at home may see it as he sees it, and -with his sense of proportion. If I could only -do it, as well as I intend it, my pictures would -create a truer sympathy between the home and -the trench. Some would find comfort for their -hearts, and others would awake to a new and -noble seriousness. Soldiers have suffered -much through imperfect sympathies. They -have been pitied for the wrong things, and -left to freeze when they needed warmth. -Only when we realize their dignity and -greatness and the true nature of their experiences -can we be their comrades and helpers. Life -at the Front is brutal and terrifying, and yet -our soldiers are neither brutalized nor -terrorized, for there is something great and noble -at the Front which keeps life pure and sweet -and the men gentle and chivalrous. When -"the boys" come home their friends will, in -almost every case, find them just as bright, -affectionate and good as when they went out. -The only change will be a subtle one--a -deepening in character and manly quality, a -broadening in mind and creed, and an impatience -with cant and make-believe whether in politics -or business, Christianity or Rationalism. -There will be an air of indefinable greatness -about them as of men who have been at grips -with the realities of life and death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a footnote to one of his songs, Edward -Teschemacher says that the gypsies, as they -wander through the country, leave a sprinkling -of grass or wild flowers at the cross-roads to -indicate, to those who come after them, the -road they have taken. These flowers are -known as the "Patterain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These essays are my Patterain--wild flowers -plucked in France, and left to mark the red -path trod during the months I have been with -my comrades at the Front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I would the flowers were worthier, but such -as I have, I give; and they are taken out of -my heart.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Where my caravan has rested</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Flowers I leave you on the grass;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>All the flowers of love and memory;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>You will find them when you pass."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>THOMAS TIPLADY.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>BRITISH EXPEDITIONARY FORCE, FRANCE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">CHAP.</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-swan-at-ypres">The Swan at Ypres</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-roadmakers">The Roadmakers</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-glamour-of-the-front">The Glamour of the Front</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-white-handkerchief">A White Handkerchief</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-songs-our-soldiers-sing">The Songs Our Soldiers Sing</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#easter-sunday">Easter Sunday</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#now-the-day-is-over">"Now the Day is Over"</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#sons-of-the-motherland">Sons of the Motherland</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-terror-by-night">The Terror by Night</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#eton-boys-never-duck">"Eton Boys Never Duck!"</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#missing">"Missing"</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#it-must-be-sunday">"It Must be Sunday"</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#our-tommies-never-fail-us">Our Tommies Never Fail Us</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-cross-at-neuve-chapelle">The Cross at Neuve Chapelle</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-children-of-our-dead">The Children of Our Dead</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-funeral-under-fire">A Funeral under Fire</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-soldier-s-calvary">A Soldier's Calvary</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hospital-train">The Hospital Train</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#after-winter-spring">After Winter, Spring</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-swan-at-ypres"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE SWAN AT YPRES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For three years the storm center of the -British battle front has been at Ypres. -Every day and night it has been the -standing target of thousands of guns. Yet, -amid all the havoc and thunder of the artillery, -the graceful white form of a swan had been -seen gliding over the water of the moat. It -never lacked food, and was always welcome -to a share of Tommy's rations. In the Battle -of Messines--I had the story first-hand from -a lieutenant of artillery whose battery was -hidden close by, and who was an eye-witness -of the incident--a shell burst near the swan, -and it was mortally wounded. For three long -years it had spread its white wings as gallantly -as the white sails of Drake's flagship when he -sailed out of Plymouth Sound to pluck the beard -of the Spaniard. But now its adventurous -voyaging was over. Another beautiful and -innocent thing had been destroyed by the war -and had passed beyond recall. There was no -dying swan-song heard on the waters, but all -who saw its passing felt that the war had taken -on a deeper shade of tragedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Many a "white man" had been slain near -the spot but somehow the swan seemed a -mystical being, and invulnerable. It was a relic -of the days of peace, and a sign of the survival -of purity and grace amid the horrors and -cruelties of war. It spoke of the sacred things -that yet remain--the beautiful things of the -soul upon which war can lay no defiling finger. -Now it had gone from the water and Ypres -seems more charred than ever, and the war -more terrible. The death of the swan revealed -against its white wings the peculiar inhumanity -of the present war. It is a war in which the -enemy spares nothing and no one. He is more -blind and merciless than the Angel of Death -which swept over Egypt, for the angel had -regard to the blood which the Israelites had -sprinkled over the lintels of their doors and -he passed by in mercy. To the German Eagle -every living creature is legitimate prey. No -blood upon the lintel can save the inmate; not -even the cross of blood on the hospital tent or -ship. Wounded or whole, combatant or -non-combatant, its beak and talons tear the tender -flesh of all and its lust is not sated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In Belgium and Serbia it is believed that -more women and children perished than men. -Things too hideous for words were done -publicly in the market-squares. Neither age nor -sex escaped fire and sword. The innocent babe -was left to suck the breast of its dead mother -or was dandled on the point of the bayonet. -What resistance can the Belgian swan make -to the German eagle? It needs must lie torn -and bleeding beneath its talons. The German -Emperor has waded deeper in blood than -Macbeth, and has slain the innocent in their -sleep. Even the sea is full of the women, -children, and non-combatant men he has -drowned. His crown is cemented together with -innocent blood and its jewels are the eyes of -murdered men and women. The wretched -man has made rivers of blood to flow yet not -a drop in them is from his own veins or the -veins of his many sons. Napoleon risked his -life with his men in every battle but this man -never once. While sending millions to their -death he yet consents to live, and protects his -life with the anxious care a miser bestows on -his gold. Alone among large families in -Germany his household is without a casualty. -Though a nation be white and innocent as the -Belgian swan it will not escape his sword, and -he will swoop upon it the more readily because -it is unarmed. The swan cannot live where -the eagle flies, and one or the other must die.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the stricken swan of Ypres is not merely -the symbol of Belgium and her fate. There -are other innocents who have perished or been -sorely wounded. The whole creation is groaning -and travailing in pain. The neutral nations -are suffering with the belligerent, and the lower -creatures are suffering with mankind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next to seeing wounded men on the roads at -the front, I think the saddest sight is that of -dying horses and mules. Last winter they had -to stand, with little cover, exposed to the bitter -blasts. It was impossible to keep them clean -or dry, for the roads were churned into liquid -mud and both mules and drivers were plastered -with it from head to foot. To make things -worse there was a shortage of fodder; and -horses waste away rapidly under ill-feeding. -Before the fine weather had given them a -chance to recover weight and strength, the -Battle of Arras began, and every living beast -of burden, as well as every motor-engine, was -strained to its utmost. The mule is magnificent -for war, and our battles have been won as -much by mules as men. Haig could rely on -one as much as on the other. The mule will -eat anything, endure anything, and, when -understood and humored by its driver, will do -anything. It works until it falls dead by the -roadside. In the spring, hundreds died in -harness. In fact, few die except in harness. They -die facing the foe, dragging rations along -shell-swept roads to the men in the trenches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On two miles of road I have counted a dozen -dead mules; and burial parties are sent out to -put them out of sight. One night, alone, I got -three dying mules shot. The road was crowded -with traffic, yet it was difficult to find either -an officer with a revolver or a transport-driver -with a rifle. I had to approach scores before -I could find a man who had the means to put -a mule out of its misery; and we were within -two miles of our Front. So rigid is our line of -defense that those behind it do not trouble to -take arms. Even when I found a rifleman he -hesitated to shoot a mule. There is a rule that -no horse or mule must be shot without proper -authority, and when you consider the enormous -cost of one the necessity for the rule is obvious. -I had therefore to assure a rifleman that I -would take full responsibility for his action. -He then loaded up, put the nozzle against the -mule's forehead and pulled the trigger. A -tremor passed through the poor thing's body -and its troubles were over. It had come all -the way from South America to wear itself out -carrying food to fighting men, and it died by -the road when its last ounce of strength was spent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mule knows neither love nor offspring. -Apart from a few gambols in the field, or -while tethered to the horse-lines, it knows -nothing but work. It is the supreme type of -the drudge. It is one of the greatest factors -in the war, and yet it receives scarcely any -recognition and more of whipping than of -praise. Only too often I have seen their poor -shell-mangled bodies lying by the roadside -waiting till the battle allowed time for their -burial. Yet what could be more innocent of -any responsibility for the war? They are as -innocent as the swan on the moat at Ypres.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet the greatest suffering among innocents is -not found at the Front at all. It is found at -home. At the Front there is suffering of body -and mind, but at home there is the suffering -of the heart. Every soldier knows that his -mother and wife suffer more than he does, and -he pities them from his soul. War is a cross -on which Woman is crucified. The soldier dies -of his wounds in the morning of life, but his -wife lingers on in pain through the long garish -day until the evening shadows fall. There is -no laughter at home such as you hear at the -Front, or even in the hospitals. One finds a -gayety among the regiments in France such as -is unknown among the people left at home. It -is the sunshine of the street as compared with -the light in a shaded room. There is a youth -and buoyancy at the Front that one misses -sadly in the homeland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To a true woman with a son or husband at -the Front, life becomes a nightmare. To her -distorted imagination the most important man -in the country is not the Prime Minister but -the postman. She cannot get on with her -breakfast for listening for his footsteps. There -is no need for him to knock at the door, she -has heard him open the gate and walk up the -gravel path. Her heart is tossed like a bubble -on the winds of hope and fear. She finds -herself behind the door without knowing how she -got there, and her hand trembles as she picks -up the letter to see if the address is in "his" -handwriting or an official's. The words, "On -His Majesty's Service," she dreads like a -witch's incantation. They may be innocent -enough, and cover nothing more than belated -Commission Papers, but she trembles lest they -should be but the fair face of a dark-hearted -messenger, who is to blot out the light of her -life forever. If she goes out shopping and sees -a telegraph-boy go in the direction of her home -she forgets her purchases and hurries back to -see if he is going to knock at her door. The -rosy-faced messenger has become a sinister -figure, an imp from the nether world. He may -be bringing news of her loved one's arrival "on -leave," but so many evil faces of fear and -doubt peer through the windows of her heart -that she cannot believe in the innocence and -good-will of the whistling boy. Her whole -world is wrapped up in his little orange-colored -envelope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys at the Front know of the anxiety -and suspense that darken their homes, and they -do all they can to lighten them. There were -times on the Somme when the men were utterly -exhausted with fighting and long vigils in the -trenches. Water was scarce, and a mild -dysentery came into evidence. No fire could be -lighted to cook food or make hot tea. The -ranks had been thinned, and only two officers -were left to each company. The weather was -bad and the captured trench uncomfortable. -Any moment word might come for another -attack. The campaign was near its close, and -the work must be completed despite the -prevalent exhaustion. The officers were too tired, -depressed and preoccupied to censor hundreds -of letters. In front of him each could see a -gaping grave. The sun was rapidly "going west" -and leaving them to the cold and dark. -Nothing seemed to matter in comparison with </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>. -To hold services were impossible and I felt -that the best I could do was to walk through -the trench, chat with the officers and men, -gather up the men's letters and take them back -and censor in my tent. This gave the officers -times to write their own, and an opportunity -to post them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But note, I pray you, the nobility of these -gallant fellows. All of them were exhausted -and depressed. The shadows of death were -thick about them, yet when I opened their -letters, I found myself--with two exceptions out -of three or four hundred--in an entirely -different atmosphere. It was a sunny atmosphere -in which birds were singing. The men said -nothing of their suffering, their depression, -their fears for the future. The black wings of -death cast no shadow over their pages. They -said they were "all right," "merry and bright" -and "soon going back for a long rest." They -told their mothers what kind of cigarettes to -send, and gave them details how to make up -the next parcel. They talked as if death were -out of sight--a sinister fellow with whom they -had nothing to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officers, of course, censor their own -letters, so I did not see how they wrote. But -I know. They wrote as the men wrote, and -probably with a still lighter touch. Their -homes were dark enough with anxiety, yet not -by any word of theirs would the shadows be -deepened. They could not shield themselves -from war's horrors but they would do their -best to shield their white swans at home. They -could not keep their women folk out of the -war, but they would deliver them from its -worst horrors. Not till they had fallen would -they let the shafts pass them to their mothers -and wives; rather would they gather them in -their own breasts. In the hour of the world's -supreme tragedy there was a woman standing -by the cross, and the august Sufferer, with -dying breath, bade His closest friend take her, -when the last beam faded, to his own home -and be in His place, a son to her. I know -no scene that better represents the feelings of -our soldiers towards their loved ones at home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their women gave them inspiration and joy -in the days of peace, and they still float before -their vision amid the blackened ruins of war, -as beautiful and stainless in their purity as the -white swan on the moat of Ypres.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-roadmakers"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE ROADMAKERS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We had just marched from one part of -the Front to another and by a -round-about way. Each morning the -Quartermaster and "the billeting party" went -on before, and each evening we slept in a -village that was strange to us. Each of the men -carried on his back a pack and equipment -weighing about eighty or ninety pounds. -Through sleet and blizzard and, for the -most part, through open, exposed country, -we continued our march without a day of -rest. By the fifth evening we reached the -village where we were to have three or four -weeks of rest and training before entering the -trenches for the spring offensive. We had -unpacked and were sitting at dinner when a -telegram came announcing that all previous -plans were canceled, and that at dawn we must -take to the road again. Something unexpected -had happened, good or ill, we knew not which, -and we had to enter the line in front of Arras. -For three days more we marched. Daily the -sound of the guns came nearer, and the men -were tired and footsore. They were also -deeply disappointed of the long rest to which -they had been looking forward after a winter -in the trenches at Neuve Chapelle. Yet they -marched cheerily enough. "It's the War!" -they said one to another and, true to their own -philosophy, "packed up their troubles in their -old kit bags and smiled." When any man -faltered a bit, as if about to fall out by the -way, the others cheered him on by singing -"Old Soldiers never die" to the tune of the -old Sunday school hymn, "Kind words can -never die." Sometimes an officer would -shoulder a man's rifle to the end of the march, -or until he felt better. In eight unbroken days -of marching we covered ninety-eight miles and -finally arrived at a camp of huts within a day's -march of the trenches we are to occupy. Here, -where our huts stand like islands in a sea of -mud, we are, unless suddenly needed, to take -a few days' rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the ninety-eight miles of road over which -we tramped, we passed company after -company of British roadmakers. In some parts -they were widening the road, in other parts -repairing it. The roads of Northeastern -France are handed over to our care as -completely as if they were in England. Our -road-makers are everywhere, and as we pass they -stand, pick or shovel in hand, to salute the -colonel and shout some humorous remark to -the laughing riflemen--only to get back as much -as they give.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This morning I visited the neighboring -village to arrange for a Sunday service. The -roads are hopeless for bicycles at this time of -the year, so I fell back on Adam's method of -getting about. The road to the village was -torn and broken, and "thaw precautions" were -being observed. Everywhere it was ankle-deep -in mud and, in the holes, knee-deep. Innumerable -motor-wagons had crushed it beneath their -ponderous weight, and my feet had need of -my eyes to guide them. In skirting the holes -and rough places, I added quite a mile to the -journey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was annoying to get along so slowly, and -I called the road "rotten" and blamed the War -for its destructive work. Then I saw that I -had been unjust in judgment. The War had -constructed more than it had destroyed. The -road had been a little muddy country lane, but -the soldiers had made it wide as Fleet Street, -and it was bearing a mightier traffic than that -famous thoroughfare night and day. The -little road with its mean perfections and -imperfections had gone, and the large road with -big faults and big virtues had come. This -soldiers' road has faults the farmers' road -knew not, but then it has burdens and duties -unknown before, and it has had no time to -prepare for them. Like our boy-officers who -are bearing grown men's burdens of responsibility -and bearing them well, the road has had -no time to harden. To strengthen itself for -its duties, it eats up stones as a giant eats up -food. I had no right to look for the smoothness -of Oxford Street or the Strand. Such -avenues represent the work of centuries, this -of days. They have grown with their burdens, -but this has had vast burdens thrown upon it -suddenly, and while it was immature. Oxford -Street and Fleet Street are the roads of peace, -and laden with wealth and luxury, law and -literature--things that can wait. But on this -road of the soldiers' making, nothing is -allowed except it be concerned with matters of -life and death. It is the road of war, and -there is a terrible urgency about it. Over it -pass ammunition to the guns, rations to the -soldiers in the trenches, ambulances bearing -back the wounded to the hospital. Whatever -its conditions the work must be done, and there -is no room for a halting prudence or the pride -of appearance. Rough though it is and muddy, -over it is passing, for all who have eyes to -see, a new and better civilization and a wider -liberty. I had grumbled at the worn-out road -when I ought to have praised it. I was as an -ingrate who finds fault with his father's hands -because they are rough and horny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a group of soldier-roadmakers who -brought me to my senses. They were making -a new road through the fields, and it branched -off from the one I was on. I saw its crude -beginning and considered the burdens it would -soon have to bear. As I stood watching these -English roadmakers my mind wandered down -the avenues of time, and I saw the Roman -soldiers building their immortal roads through -England. They were joining town to town and -country to country. They were introducing -the people of the North to those of the South, -and bringing the East into fellowship with the -West. I saw come along their roads the -union of all England followed at, some -distance, by that of England, Scotland and Wales; -and I regretted that there was no foundation -on which they could build a road to Ireland. -I saw on those soldier-built roads, also, -Christianity and Civilization marching, and in the -villages and towns by the wayside they found -a home whence they have sent out missionaries -and teachers to the ends of the earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The captains and the kings depart." The -Roman Empire is no more, but the Roman -roads remain. They direct our modern life -and business with an inevitability the Roman -soldiers never exercised. In two thousand -years the Empire may have fallen apart and -become a thing of the past; but the roads her -sons have built in France, these two-and-a-half -years, will abide forever and be a perpetual -blessing; for, of things made by hands, there -is, after the church and the home, nothing more -sacred than the road. The roadmaker does -more for the brotherhood of man and the -federation of the world than the most eloquent -orator. The roadmaker has his dreams and -visions as well as the poet, and he expresses -them in broken stones. He uses stones as -artists use colors, and orators words. He -touches them--transient as they are--with -immortality. A little of his soul sticks to each -stone he uses, and though the stone perishes -the road remains. His body may perish more -quickly than the stones and be laid in some -quiet churchyard by the wayside, but his soul -will never utterly forsake the road he helped -to make. In man's nature, and in all his works, -there is a strange blending of the temporal -and the eternal, and in nothing is it more -marked than in the roads he builds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The roadmaker is the pioneer among men -and without him there would be neither artist -nor orator. He goes before civilization as -John the Baptist went before Christ, and he -is as rough and elemental. Hard as his own -stones, without him mankind would have -remained savage and suspicious as beasts of prey; -and art, science and literature would have had -no beginning. His road may begin in war, but -it ends in peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pioneers I saw roadmaking were, for the -greater part, over military age, and such as -I had often seen leaning heavily on the bar -of some miserable beer-house. In those days -they seemed of the earth, earthy, and the stars -that lure to high thoughts and noble -endeavors seemed to shine on them in vain. But -one never knows what is passing in the heart -of another. Of all things human nature is -the most mysterious and deceptive. God seems -to play at hide-and-seek with men. He hides -pearls in oysters lying in the ooze of the sea; -and gold under the everlasting snows of the -Arctic regions. Diamonds he buries deep down -in the dirt beneath the African veldt. He -places Christ in a carpenter's shop, Joan of -Arc in a peasant's dwelling, Lincoln in a -settler's cabin, and Burns in a crude cottage -built by his father's own hands. He hides -generous impulses and heroic traits in types of -men that in our mean imaginations we can only -associate with the saw-dust sprinkled bar-room. -Only when war or pestilence have kindled their -fierce and lurid flames do we find the hidden -nobility that God has stored away in strange -places--places often as foul and unlikely as -those where a miser stores his gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Diogenes went about with a candle -in search of an honest man did he think to -look in the taverns and slums? I fancy not. -Not Diogenes' candle but the "Light of the -World" was needed to reveal the treasure God -has hidden in men. Christ alone knew where -His Father had hidden His wealth and could -guide us to it. In this time of peril when -every man with any nobility in him is needed -to stand in the deadly breach, and with body -and soul hold back the brutality and tyranny -that would enslave the world we have, like the -woman in the parable, lit a candle and searched -every corner of our kingdom diligently. In -the dust of unswept corners we have found -many a coin of value that, but for our -exceeding need, would have remained hidden. -To me, the wealth and wonder of the war have -been found in its sweepings. Time and again -we have found those who were lost, and a new -happiness has come into life. To the end of -my days I shall walk the earth with reverent -feet. I did not know men were so great. I -have looked at life without seeing the gold -through the dust, and have been no better than -a Kaffir child playing marbles with diamonds, -unaware of their value. I have gone among -my fellows with proud step where I ought to -have walked humbly, and have rushed in where -angels feared to tread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Life at the Front has made me feel mean -among mankind. My comrades have been so -great. In days long past, I have trodden on -the hem of Christ's garment without knowing -it. I have not seen its jewels because I, and -others, have so often trodden it in the mire. -Yet, through the mire of slum and tavern, the -jewels have emerged pearl-white and ruby-red. -And I feel that I owe to a large part of -mankind an apology for having been before the -war so blind, callous and superficial. But for -the agony and bloody sweat in which I have -seen my fellows, I should never have known -them for what they are, and the darkness of -death would have covered me before I had -realized what made the death of Christ -and the sufferings of all the martyrs well -worth while. Now there is a new light upon -my path and I shall see the features of -an angel through the dirt on a slum-child's -face. Words of Christ that once lay in the -shadow now stand out clearly, for whenever -we get below the surface of life we come to -</span><em class="italics">Him</em><span>. He is there before us, and awaiting our -coming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I also understand, now, something of the -meaning of the words which the Unemployed -scrawled upon their banner before the -war--"Damn your charity. Give us work." It was -a deep and true saying, and taught them by a -stern teacher. When the war came we </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> -"damn our charity" and gave them "work." Many -a man got his first chance of doing "a -man's job," and rose to the full height of his -manhood. Many hitherto idle and drunken, -were touched in their finer parts. They saw -their country's need, and though their country -had done little to merit their gratitude, they -responded to her call before some of the more -prudent and sober. Those who were young -went out to fight, and every officer can tell -stories about their behavior in the hours of -danger and suffering which bring tears to the -eyes and penitence to the heart. Those above -military age went out to make roads over which -their younger brothers and sons could march, -and get food, ammunition, or an ambulance -according to their needs. Among the group -of middle-aged roadmakers that I saw there -were, I doubt not, some who had been counted -wastrels and who had made but a poor show -of life. Now they had got work that made -them feel that they were men and not -mendicants, and they were "making good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While I watched them a lark rose from a -neighboring field and sang over them a song -of the coming spring. It was the first lark I -had heard this year, and I was glad it mingled -its notes with the sounds of the roadmakers' -shovels. Nature is not so indifferent to human -struggles as it sometimes seems. The man -who stands steadfastly by the right and true -and bids tyranny and wrong give place will -find, at last, that he is in league with the stones -of the field and the birds of the air, and that -the stars in their courses fight for him. The -roadmaker and the lark are born friends. -Both are heralds of coming gladness, and while -one works, the other sings. True work and -pure song are never far apart. They are both -born of hope and seek to body forth the -immortal. A man works while he has faith. -Would he sow if he did not believe the promise, -made under the rainbow, that seed-time and -harvest shall never fail? Or could he sing -with despair choking his heart? Yet he can -sing with death choking it. In the very act -of dying Wesley sang the hymn, "I'll praise my -Maker while I've breath." He sang because -of the hope of immortality. He was not -turning his face to the blank wall of death and -oblivion but to the opening gate of a fuller -life. He was soaring sunwards like the lark, -and soaring sang,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And when my voice is lost in death</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Praise shall employ my nobler powers;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My days of praise shall ne'er be past."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Joy can sing and Sorrow can sing, but -Despair is dumb. It has not even a cry, for a -cry is a call for help as every mother knows, -and Despair knows no helper. Even the saddest -song has hope in it, as the dreariest desert -has a well. The loved one is dead but Love -lives on and whispers of a trysting place beyond -this bourne of time, where loved and lover -meet again. The patriot's life may be pouring -from a dozen wounds on the muddy field of -battle, but his fast-emptying heart is singing -with each heavy beat, "Who dies, if my country -live?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roadmakers have prepared the way for -missionaries in every land. Trail-blazers are -not always religious men--often they are wild, -reckless fellows whom few would allow a place -in the Kingdom of God--but is not their work -religious in its final upshot? Do they not, -however unconsciously, "prepare the way of -the Lord, make straight in the desert a -highway for our God?" Close on their heels go -the missionaries, urged on faster by the pure -love of souls than the trader by love of lucre. -The greatest among the roadmakers was a -missionary himself--David Livingstone. And -for such an one the name Living-stone is -perfect. It has the touch of destiny. Through -swamp and forest he went where white feet -had never trod, and blazed a trail for the -messengers of Christ, until, worn out with fever -and hardship, he fell asleep at his prayers, to -wake no more to toil and suffering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But while the roadmaker bestows benefits on -us he also lays obligations, for there can be -no enlargement of privilege without a -corresponding increase of responsibility. The roads -the men are making here in France will be good -for trade. They will open up the country as -did the military roads of Caesar and Napoleon; -and along them soldiers are marching who, at -tremendous cost to themselves, are buying for -posterity great benefits, and laying upon -posterity great obligations. Posterity must hold and -enlarge the liberties won for them, and prove -worthy of their citizenship by resisting tyranny -"even unto blood." We are here because our -fathers were heroes and lovers of liberty. Had -they been cowards and slaves there would have -been no war for us. As we follow our fathers -our sons must be ready to follow us. The -present springs out of the past, and the future -will spring out of the present. Inheritance -implies defense on the part of the inheritors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The very names they give to their roads -show that our soldiers have grasped this fact. -The cold canvas hut in which I am writing is -officially described as No. 1 Hut, </span><em class="italics">Oxford -Street</em><span>. A little farther off, and running parallel -with it, is </span><em class="italics">Cambridge</em><span> Road. There is also an -</span><em class="italics">Eton</em><span> Road, </span><em class="italics">Harrow</em><span> Road, and </span><em class="italics">Marlborough</em><span> -Road. Students of the universities and schools -after which these roads are named are out -here to defend what these institutions have -stood for through the hoary centuries. They -are out to preserve the true conception of -Liberty and Fair-play, and to build roads along -which all peoples who desire it can travel -unmolested by attacks from either tyrants or -anarchists.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Right from the beginning of the war, the -idea of a Road has taken hold of the imagination -of our soldiers. The first divisions came -out singing, "It's a long, long way to -Tipperary, but my heart's right there." Nowadays -the popular song is "There's a long, long -trail awinding into the Land of my dreams."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They are making a Road of Liberty along -which all nations may pass to universal peace -and brotherhood, and where the weak will be -as safe from oppression as the strong. "It's -a long, long way to go," but they have seen -their goal on the horizon, and will either reach -it or die on the way to it. They have made -up their minds that never again shall the -shadow of the Kaiser's mailed fist, or that any -other tyrant fall across their path. These men -never sing of war. They hate war. It is a -brutal necessity forced on them by the -ambition of a tyrant. Their songs are all of peace -and none of war. Of the future and not the -present they sing:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Tiddley-iddley-ighty,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Hurry me home to Blighty;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Blighty is the place for me."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Whether they sing with levity or seriousness -(and levity of manner often veils their -seriousness of feeling), it is of a future of peace and -goodwill they sing. To them the war is a -hard road leading to a better life for -mankind. It is to them what the desert was to -the Israelites, when they left the bondage of -Egypt for the liberty of the Land of Promise. -Therefore they must tread it without faltering -even as Christ trod the way of the Cross. -"There's a long, long trail awinding into the -Land of their dreams" and they will not lose -faith in their dreams however wearisome the -way. Elderly navvies and laborers have come -to smooth the roads for them, and nurses are -tending those who have fallen broken by the -way; while across the sundering sea are -mothers and wives whose prayers make flowers -spring up at their feet and blossoms break out -on every tree that fringes the side of the road.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-glamour-of-the-front"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE GLAMOUR OF THE FRONT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There is an undoubted glamour about -the Front, which when at home, in -England, cannot be explained. In the army -or out of it, the wine of life is white and still, -but at the Front it runs red and sparkling. -One day I got a lift in a motor-wagon and -sat on a box by the side of one of the servants -of the officer's mess at the Aerodrome near -by. He was going into Doullens, a market -town, to buy food and some little luxuries. -Captain Ball, V.C., the prince of English -flyers, was, up to the time of his death in the -air, a member of the mess, and the servant -was telling me how comfortable all the officers -make their quarters. In a phrase he defined -the glamour of the Front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One day," he said, "when we were helping -him to make his room comfortable, Captain -Ball burst out into a merry laugh and chuckled, -'We haven't long to live, but we live well while -we do live.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There you have it. Life is concentrated. -Death is near--just round the corner--so the -men make the most of their time and "live -well." It has the same quality as "leave" at -home. Leave is short and uncertain, so we -"live well." Our friends know it may be the -last sight of us, and we know it may be our -last sight of them. They are kind and -generous to us, as we are to them; and so, the -ten days of "leave" are just glorious. Ruskin -says that the full splendor of the sunset lasts -but a second, and that Turner went out early -in the evening and watched with rapt attention -for that one second of supreme splendor and -delight. He lived for sunsets and while others -were balancing their accounts, or taking tea, he -went out to see the daily miracle. The one -second in which he saw God pass by in the glory -of the sunset was to him worth all the -twenty-four hours. For one second in each day he -caught the glamour of earth and heaven, and -went back to his untidy studios blind to all but -the splendor he had seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That second each day was life, indeed, and -the glamour of the Front is like unto it. It is -the place where life sets, and the darkness of -death draws on. The commonest soldier feels -it and with true instinct, not less true because -unconscious, he describes death at the Front -as "going West." It is the presence of death -that gives the Front its glamour, and life its -concentrated joy and fascination. Captain -Ball saw it with the intuition of genius when -he said: "We haven't long to live, but we live -well while we </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> live."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The immediate presence of death at the -Front gives tone to every expression of life, and -makes it the kindest place in the world. No -one feels he can do too much for you, and -there is nothing you would not do for another. -Whether you are an officer or a private, you -can get a lift on any road, in any vehicle, that -has an inch of room in it. How often have -I seen a dozen tired Tommies clambering up -the back of an empty motor-lorry which has -stopped, or slowed down, to let them get in. -It is one of the merriest sights of the war and -redounds to the credit of human nature. -Cigarettes are passed round by those who have, to -those who have not, with a generosity that -reminds one of nothing so much as that of the -early Christians who "had all things common; -and sold their possessions and goods, and -parted them to all men, as every man had -need." You need never go hungry while others -have food. Officers are welcome at every mess -they go near, and privates will get food in the -servants' kitchen or may go shares with the -men in any billet. It may be a man's own -fault that he took no food on the march, and -his comrades may tell him so in plain strong -language, but they will compel him to share -what they have just the same.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One wet night on the Somme I got lost in -"Happy Valley" and could not find my regiment. -Seeing a light in a tent, I made for it. -It was a pioneers' tent, but they invited me to -come in out of the storm and stay the night. -They were at supper and had only a small -supply of bully-beef, biscuits and strong tea; -but they insisted on me sharing what they had. -I was dripping with rain, and they gave me one -of their blankets. One of them gave me a -box to sleep on, while he shared his chum's. -Some lost privates came in later wet to the -skin, and the pioneers gave them all the -eatables left over from supper, and shared out -their blankets and clothes. It was pure -Christianity--whatever creeds they may think they -believe. And it is the glamour of the Front. -England feels cold and dull after it. Kindness -and comradeship pervade the air in France. -You feel that everyone is a friend and brother. -It will be pretty hard for chaplains to go back -to their churches. They have been spoiled by -too much kindness. How can they go back -to the cold atmosphere of criticism and narrow -judgments which prevail in so many churches--that -is, unless the war has brought changes -there also? And after preaching to dying men -who listen as it their destiny depended upon -their hearing, how can they go back to pulpits -where large numbers in the congregations -regard their messages as of less importance than -dinner, and as merely supplying material for -an exercise in more or less kindly criticism -during the discussion of that meal?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The glamour of the services at the Front! -How the scenes are photographed on my -heart! As a congregation sits in a church at -home how stolid its features often are--how -dull its eyes! One glance around and the -preacher's heart sinks within him and his -inspiration flies away. Nothing is expected of -him, and nothing particularly desired. People -have come by force of habit, and not of need. -But how the eyes of the soldiers in France glow -and burn; how their features speak, and make -the preacher speak in reply! Who could help -being eloquent there! Such faces would make -the dumb speak. One can see the effect of his -words as plainly in their expressions as he can -see the effect of wind on a cornfield. Every -emotion from humor to concern leaps from -the heart to the face as the subject touches -them at, first this point of their life, then at that. -The men's eyes are unforgettable. Months -afterwards they come vividly to mind, and one -is back again answering the questions they -silently ask, and seeing the look of content or -gratitude that takes the place of the perplexed -or troubled expression. Eyes are said to be -the windows of the soul, and as I have spoken -I have seen men's souls looking out. At home -the windows are darkened and there seemed -to be no souls behind the panes. The dwellers -within the houses are busy with other matters, -and will not come to the windows. The -preacher feels like an organ-grinder in the -street--those who hear do not heed nor come -to the windows of the soul. In France there -is a soul looking out at every window; and the -preacher sings--for his words grow rhythmic--to -his listeners of the love of God and of -the love of women and children which make -sweet this vale of tears and light man on his -lone way beyond the grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One Sunday in hospital, when we heard the -singing of a hymn in the ward below, a young -officer, in the next bed, turned to me and said: -"Why doesn't the chaplain hold a service for -us? Why does he only hold them for the -Tommies? We need them and want them, -just as much as the Tommies. We are officers -but we are also men." I passed the word to -the chaplain, and he was a joyful man when -in the evening he gave us a service and the -officers of the next ward asked the orderlies -to carry them in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is the same naturalness and spirit -of fellowship between members of various -churches. Many lasting friendships have been -formed between chaplains of differing -communions. There has been no change of creed -but something greater, a change of spirit. -They have been touched by the common spirit, -and have lived and worked in free and happy -fellowship. On my last Sunday in a hospital -in France, the chaplain, a canon of the Church -of England, invited me to read the lesson at -the morning parade service, and to administer -the wine at Holy Communion. This I did; -and a colonel who was present stayed behind -to express to us both the pleasure which had -been given to him by the sight of Anglican -and Methodist churchmen serving together at -the Lord's Table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To a chaplain not a little of the glamour of -the Front is found in this warm fellowship -between men of differing creeds and varying -religious communions. We have not knocked -down our garden walls but we have taken off -the cut glass that had been cemented on them -by our fathers; and now we can lean over and -talk to our neighbors. We have already found -that our neighbors are human beings, and quite -normal. The chief difference between us seems -to be that while one has an obsession for roses -the other has an obsession for dahlias. On -pansies, sweet peas and chrysanthemums we -seem equally keen and exchange plants. A -Roman Catholic officer who had been appointed -to the Ulster Division told me that though he -was received coldly at first, he had not been -with the Division more than a few weeks when -every officer in his regiment, and every soldier -in his company, accepted him as cordially as -if he were a Protestant. He was from Dublin -and they from Belfast, but they did not allow -it to make any difference, and feelings of the -warmest loyalty and friendship sprang up. -His Tommies would fight to the death by his -side, as readily as around any Ulsterman; and -he was just as popular in the officers' mess. -When, he said, it passed the Irish Guards or -any other Roman Catholic regiment, his -regiment would sing some provoking song about -"hanging the Pope with a good strong rope," -and the Dublin regiment would reply with some -song equally obnoxious and defiant; but whereas, -in peace time, the songs would have caused a free -fight to the accompaniment of bloodshed, now -it caused nothing worse than laughter. The -songs were just a bit of teasing such as every -regiment likes to regale another with--perhaps, -too, a common memory of the dear -country they have left behind. The men of -Belfast and the men of Dublin have learned -to respect and value one another. They know -that in a scrap with the enemy they can count -on one another to the last drop of blood, for, -whether from North or South, the Irish are -"bonnie fighters." Of such are the miracles -at the Front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most of all, perhaps, the glamour of the -Front is found in the nobility to which -common men rise. An artillery officer told me -that he had in his battery a soldier who seemed -utterly worthless. He was dirty in all his -ways, and unreliable in character. In despair -they made him sanitary orderly, that is, the -scavenger whose duty it was to remove all -refuse. One night the officer wanted a man -to go on a perilous errand and there were few -men available. Instantly this lad volunteered. -The officer looked at him in amazement, and -with a reverence born on the instant. "No," -he thought, "I will not let him go and get -killed. I'll go myself." He told the lad so, -and disappointment was plainly written on his -features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, you'll let me come with you, sir?" he replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should two risk their lives," asked -the officer, "when one can do the job?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you might get wounded, sir," was the -quick response; and they went together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An Irish officer told me of one man who -seemed bad from top to toe. All the others -had some redeeming feature but this man appeared -not to possess any. He used the filthiest -language and was dirty in his habits and dress. -He was drunken and stole the officers' whisky -out of the mess. He was unchaste and had -been in the hospital with venereal disease; -and neither as man nor soldier was there -anything good to say of him. The regiment was -sent to France, and in due time took its place -in the trenches; and then appeared in this man -something that had never risen to the surface -before. Wherever there were wounded and -dying men he proved himself to be the noblest -man in the regiment. When a man fell in -No Man's Land, he was over the parapet in -the twinkling of an eye to bring him in. No -barrage could keep him away from the -wounded. It was a sort of passion with him -that nothing could restrain. To save others -he risked his life scores of times. In -rest-billets he would revert to some of his evil ways, -but in the trenches he was the Greatheart of -the regiment and, though he did not receive it, -he earned the Victoria Cross over and over -again. There is a glamour at the Front that -holds the heart with an irresistible grip. In -the light of War's deathly fires the hearts of -men are revealed and the black sheep often -get their chance. Life is intense and deep and -men are drawn together by a common peril. -They find the things that unite and forget the -things that separate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We haven't long to live," said Captain Ball -joyfully, "but we live well while we </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> live," -and in those words he expressed the glamour -of the Front. Ball found, as thousands of his -comrades-in-arms had found, that</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"One crowded hour of glorious life</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Is worth an age without a name."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-white-handkerchief"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A WHITE HANDKERCHIEF</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In his </span><em class="italics">History of the Somme Campaign</em><span> -John Buchan quotes, from an official -report, an incident which, though I have -tried, I cannot get my imagination to believe. -Probably the incident is a true one but, -unfortunately for me, my mind will not let it in. -I cannot visualize it and the report is turned -from the door as an impostor. The report -states that in a certain attack our aeroplanes -fired on the Germans in their trenches and that -the enemy waved white handkerchiefs in token -of surrender. Without the slightest difficulty -I can imagine all except the white handkerchiefs. -Where did they get them to wave? -Men in the firing trenches don't carry anything -so conspicuous as white handkerchiefs. To -draw one out in a thoughtless moment might -bring a sniper's bullet, and there are risks -enough without inviting more. I doubt if in -any English regiment two white handkerchiefs -could be found: and I have little expectation -that more could be found among the enemy. -Furthermore, it is questionable, at this stage -of the war, if a white handkerchief would be -regarded as a sign, of surrender. It might be -taken as a taunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is nothing more remarkable in the war -than the psychological change that has been -wrought in white. A white feather used to -be the badge of cowardice and a white flag -the token of surrender. It is not so now. -White has taken on a peculiar sacredness. If -a new medal were to be struck of the same -high value as the Victoria Cross it would -probably be given a white ribbon, as the other -has a red or (for the navy) blue. This -change in the moral significance of white was -brought home to me by an incident in a billet. -I had gone to a barn to give the men some -shirts and socks that had been sent to me. I -stood on the steps, and like an auctioneer, -offered my goods for acceptance. "Who wants -a shirt? Who a scarf? Who wants this pair -of mittens? Who a pair of socks?" Hands -shot up at each question, and the fun grew -fast and furious. Then I drew out and held -up a white handkerchief. "A-ah! A-ah!" they -cried wistfully in chorus. For a moment -they stood gazing at it and forgot to raise -their hands towards it; then, with a single -movement, every hand shot up. Unwittingly -I had stirred them to the depths; and I felt -sorry for them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Magic Carpet of Baghdad is not a -fiction after all. In the twinkling of an eye -my white handkerchief had carried every boy -and man to his home, and placed him by the -fireside. I saw it in their eyes and heard it -in the sadness and wistfulness of their voices -as they ejaculated "A-ah!" They had not -seen a white handkerchief for months. The -last they saw was at home. A vision of home -flashed before their minds and they were back -in the dear old days of peace when they used -white handkerchiefs and khaki ones were -unknown to them. If in battle they were to see -Germans waving white handkerchiefs, I think -it would make them savage and unwilling to -give quarter. They would think the enemy -was taunting them with all they had lost. And -they would be maddened by the thought that -here were the very men who, by their war-lust, -had caused them to lose it. For a German to -wave a white handkerchief before a British -soldier would be as dangerous as flaunting a -red flag before a bull. It would bring death -rather than pity. Anything of pure white is -rare at the front, and it has gradually taken -on a meaning it never held before. About the -only white thing we have is the paper we write -home on, and that use of the color helps to -sanctify it in the shrine of the heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the army it is a term of supreme praise -to call a man </span><em class="italics">white</em><span>. When you say a comrade -is a "</span><em class="italics">white man</em><span>" there is no more to be said. -It is worth more than the Victoria Cross with -its red ribbon, for it includes gallantry, and -adds to it goodness. A man must be brave to -be called white and he must be generous, noble -and good. To reach whiteness is a great -achievement. To be dubbed white is, in the -army, like being dubbed knight at King Arthur's -Court or canonized saint in the Church. He -stands out among a soldier's comrades -distinct as a white handkerchief among khaki ones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I don't know where the term came from, -but, wherever it may have tarried on the way, -I think its footprints could be traced back to -the Book of Revelation for its starting place. -In the first chapter we have a picture of Christ -as the first "White Man"--"His Head and -His Hairs were white like wool, as white as -snow." In the second chapter His faithful -followers are given "a white stone, and in -the stone a new name written." Is not the -new name "White man"? In the third chapter -we read of "a few names even in Sardis which -have </span><em class="italics">not defiled their garments</em><span>; and they shall -</span><em class="italics">walk with Me in white</em><span>; for they are worthy." There, -too, the Laodiceans are counseled to -buy "white raiment." In the fourth chapter -we see the four and twenty elders, sitting -around the throne under the rainbow arch, -"clothed in white raiment." In the sixth -chapter we have the crowned King going -"forth conquering, and to conquer" and He is -sitting on "a white horse," that is, He uses -"white" instruments to carry out His -conquests. Death, in the same chapter, rides on -a "pale" horse, but not a "white" one. Under -the altar were the souls of the martyrs, "And -white robes were given unto every one of -them." And surely the climax is reached when -we read in the seventh chapter that "a great -multitude, which no man could number, of all -nations, and kindreds, and people and tongues, -stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, -clothed with white robes." So striking was -the scene that one of the elders asked, "What -are these which are arrayed in white -robes? and whence came they?" And the answer is -given, "These are they which came out of -great tribulation, and have washed their robes, -and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. -Therefore are they before the throne of -God." In the army white has come back to its -ancient significance. The brave and noble -martyrs of the early Church were given "white -robes" and in the army to-day the brave and -pure wear "white robes" in the eyes of their -comrades. When Clifford Reed was killed by -a shell at his Regimental Aid Post his colonel -wrote of him that he was the "whitest man" -he had ever known. He had done more than -wear "the white flower of a </span><em class="italics">blameless</em><span> life." His -virtues were positive, not merely negative. -He wore a "white </span><em class="italics">robe</em><span>"; not a mere speck of -white such as a white flower in a buttonhole -would appear. White is a positive color, not -a negative. Reed was more than "blameless," -he was "white and all white." To our soldiers -a white handkerchief speaks of home, and a -"white man" speaks of honor and heroism -and heaven.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-songs-our-soldiers-sing"><span class="bold large">V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE SONGS OUR SOLDIERS SING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The necessity for poetry and song is fully -and officially recognized by the military -authorities at the Front. Every Division -has its own concert party. These men are -chosen out of the ranks because they can sing, -and their one task is to furnish nightly concerts -for the men. They are provided with a good -hall, or tent, or open-air position; and they are -given enough money to buy stage scenery and -appropriate dress. Everybody attends the -concerts from the general to the private; and -while the entertainments last, the war is -forgotten. A charge is made at the door but the -balance sheet is published for all ranks to see; -and the profits are distributed among the -Divisional charities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Among the many Divisional Concert Parties -may be named "The Bow Bells," "The Duds," -"The Follies," "The Whizz-bangs," "The -Fancies" and, "The Giddigoats." But, after -all, the singing in the concert rooms is but a -small fraction of the singing one hears in the -Army. On every march, in every billet and -mess, there is the sound of singing. Nor must -the singing at our religious services and in the -Y.M.C.A. huts be forgotten. Song seems -to be the great renewer of hope and courage. -It is the joy bringer. Moreover, it is an -expression of emotions that can find no other -voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is no real difference between the songs -sung by the officers, and those sung by the men. -All attend the concerts and all sing on the -march. The same songs do for both -commanders and commanded, and I have heard -the same songs in the men's billets as in the -officers' mess-rooms. How real these songs are -to the soldiers is indicated by one striking -omission. There are no patriotic songs at the -Front. Except the National Anthem rendered -on formal occasions, I have never, in eighteen -months, heard a single patriotic song. The -reason is not far to seek. The soldiers' -patriotism calls for no expression in song. -They are expressing it night and day in the -endurance of hardship and wounds--in the -risking of their lives. Their hearts are -satisfied with their deeds, and songs of such a -character become superfluous. In peace-time they -sing their love of the homeland, but in -war-time they suffer for her and are content. They -would never think of singing a patriotic song -as they march into battle. It would be painting -the lily and gilding refined gold. Are not their -deathless deeds, songs for which they make a -foil by singing some inconsequential and -evanescent song such as, "There's something in the -sea-side air."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On analysis I should say that there are five -subjects on which our soldiers sing. First, there -are Nonsense Songs or, if you prefer it, songs -of soldier-philosophy. They know that no -theory will explain the war; it is too big a thing -for any sheet of philosophy to cover. It has -burst in on our little hum-drum life like a -colliding planet. The thing to do is not to evolve -a theory as to how the planet got astray but -to clear up the mess it has made. Our soldiers -show this sense of the vastness of war-happenings, -by singing of things having no real -importance at all, and keeping steadily at their -duties. The path of duty is, they find, the only -path of sanity. The would-be war philosopher -they put on one side. The war is too big for -him. Let him leave his explanation of the war -and lend a hand to bring it to an end. So they -sing, with laughing irony,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"We're here because we're here, because</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We're here, because we're here."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Or,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"While you've got a lucifer to light your fag,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Smile, boys, that's the style.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What's the use of worrying?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It never was worth while,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And smile, smile, smile."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Another favorite is,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh, there was a little hen and she had a wooden leg,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The best little hen that ever laid an egg,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she laid more eggs than any hen on the farm,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And another little drink wouldn't do us any harm."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I have seen them dancing round some old piano -singing,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh, that fascinating Bow Bells' glide,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It's a captivating Bow Bells' slide.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There's a rumor that the puma does it now,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Monkeys have taken to it,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Leopards and lions do it.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All the elephants wear dancing shoes,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They keep hopping with the kangaroos;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Hear them chatter, it's a matter for some talk;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now the Jungle's got the Bow Bells' walk."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The second class of song is the Love Song, -of a more or less serious character. The -Tommies came out of England singing "Tipperary," -but they dropped it in France, and the only one -on whose lips I have heard it was a little French -boy sitting on the tail of a cart. The chorus -alone gave it popularity for it was the -expression, ready to hand, of a long farewell; and -with its "long long way to go" showed that, -like Kitchener, the soldiers were not deceived -by hopes of an early peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now another song with verses more expressive -of their sentiments has taken its place. -The chorus runs:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"There's a long, long trail a-winding</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Into the land of my dreams,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the nightingales are singing</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And a white moon beams;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>There's a long, long night of waiting</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Until my dreams all come true;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Till the day when I'll be going down</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>That long, long trail with you."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Then the mood changes, and we hear the lads -piping out,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Taffy's got his Jennie in Glamorgan,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Sandy's got his Maggie in Dundee,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>While Michael O'Leary thinks of his dearie</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Far across the Irish Sea.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Billy's got his Lily up in London,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>So the boys march on with smiles;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>For every Tommy's got a girl somewhere</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>In the dear old British Isles."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Again the mood veers round, and we hear,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Every little while I feel so lonely,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Every little while I feel so blue,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>I'm always dreaming, I'm always scheming,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Because I want you, and only you.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Every little while my heart is aching,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Every little while I miss your smile,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And all the time I seem to miss you;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I want to, want to kiss you,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Every, every, every little while."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Here is part of a song I have heard sung, -many and many a time, by young officers and -men whose voices are now silent in death:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"If you were the only girl in the world,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I were the only boy,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nothing else would matter in the world to-day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We could go on loving in the same old way;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A Garden of Eden just made for two,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With nothing to mar our joy;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I would say such wonderful things to you,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There would be such wonderful things to do,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If you were the only girl in the world,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I were the only boy."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Sometimes the imagination will wander into -the days that are to be--for some--and they -sing,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"We don't want a lot of flags flying,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>We don't want your big brass bands;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>We don't want a lot of speechifying,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And we don't want a lot of waving hands;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>We don't want a lot of interfering,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>When we've safely crossed the foam;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>But we </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> want to find the girls we left behind,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>When we all come marching home."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Will the girls remember! The words are -not without tragedy. How deeply some of the -men love may perhaps never be realized by -those at home. The longing of their hearts is, -at times, almost unbearable. A captain, past -middle life, took my arm one day and led me -aside. He was, he said, a little anxious about -himself, for he was getting into the habit of -taking more drink than he was wont to take. -He had been taking it when he felt lonely and -depressed to ease the longing of his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never touch it at home," he said, "the -society of my dear little wife is all the stimulant -I need. I would give the world to be with -her now--just to sit in my chair and watch her -at her sewing or knitting. The separation is -too much for me and, you know, it has lasted -nearly three years now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have caught this yearning in more than one -of the songs our soldiers sing, but especially in -the following, which is called "Absent":</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Sometimes, between long shadows on the grass,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The little truant waves of sunlight pass;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My eyes grow dim with tenderness, the while</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thinking I see thee, thinking I see thee smile.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And sometimes in the twilight gloom, apart,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The tall trees whisper, whisper heart to heart;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From my fond lips the eager answers fall,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thinking I hear thee, thinking I hear thee call."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The men's thoughts pass easily from the -sweetheart to the mother who bore them, and -we have a third class, the Home Song. I -have been awakened in the night by men, going -up to the line, singing "Keep the Home Fires -Burning." It is very thrilling to hear in the -dead of night, when every singer is within range -of the enemy's guns.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another great favorite is,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"They built a little garden for the rose,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And they called it Dixie-land;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>They built a summer breeze to keep the snows</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Far away from Dixie-land;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>They built the finest place I've known,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>When they built my home sweet home;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Nothing was forgotten in the land of cotton,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>From the clover to the honey-comb,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And then they took an angel from the skies</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And they gave her heart to me.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>She had a bit of heaven in her eyes</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Just as blue as blue can be;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>They put some fine spring chickens in the land,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And taught my Mammy how to use a frying pan.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>They made it twice as nice as paradise,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And they called it Dixie-land."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Being Londoners, the following song called -"Leave" never fails in its appeal to our Division:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I'm so delighted, I'm so excited,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With my folks I'm going to be united.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The train's departing, 'twill soon be starting;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I'll see my mother, my dad and my baby brother.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My! How I'll meet them, My! how I'll greet them.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What a happy happy day.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Just see that bustle, I'd better hustle,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Good-bye--so long--can't stay--</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Chorus</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I'm on my way back to dear old Shepherd's Bush,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That's the spot where I was born,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Can't you hear the porter calling,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Queen's Road, Piccadilly, Marble Arch and Bond Street?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, I'll not hesitate, I'll reach the gate;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through the crowd I mean to push,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Find me a seat anywhere--please anywhere,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Tram, train, tube, 'bus I don't care--</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For mother and daddy are waiting there--</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In dear old Shepherd's Bush."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the eve of one big battle, a soldier -handed me a letter in which he gave me the -addresses of his father and his sweetheart, so -that I could write to them if he fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the last battle," he said, "one of my -brothers was killed and another wounded. If I -fall I shall die without regrets and with a heart -content; but it will go hard with those at home; -and I want you to break the news gently. -These are terrible times for those at home." "These -are terrible times </span><em class="italics">for those at home</em><span>." That -is their constant refrain, and it finds an -echo in a song often sung by them.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"It's a long long way to my home in Kentucky,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Where the blue-bells grow 'round the old cabin door;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>It's a long, long way and I'll be mighty lucky</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>When I see my dear old mammy once more.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>So weep no more, my lady,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Just brush those tears away;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>It's a long long way to my home in Kentucky,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>But I'm bound to get there some day."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But the chief favorite of all Home Songs is, -I think, the following:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"There's an old-fashioned house in an old-fashioned street;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>In a quaint little old-fashioned town;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>There's a street where the cobble stones harass the feet,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>As it straggles up hill and then down;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And, though to and fro through the world I must go,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>My heart while it beats in my breast,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Where e'er I may roam, to that old-fashioned home</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Will fly like a bird to its nest.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"In that old-fashioned house in that old-fashioned street,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Dwell a dear little old-fashioned pair;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>I can see their two faces so tender and sweet,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And I love every wrinkle that's there.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>I love ev'ry mouse in that old-fashioned house</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>In the street that runs up hill and down;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Each stone and each stick, ev'ry cobble and brick,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>In that quaint little old-fashioned town."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The charm of the Army is its comradeship. -Our soldiers have left their homes and friends -but they have found new friends, and some of -the friendships have become very precious. -Men slept side by side in barn and trench, -cooked their rations at the same little wood fire, -and stood together in the hour of danger and -imminent death. Many of them owe their lives -to their comrades. There are few songs that -express this wonderful comradeship, but there -is one that is known and sung through the -army. It represents the Songs of Comradeship:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"When you come to the end of a perfect day,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And you sit alone with your thought,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>While the chimes ring out with a carol gay,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>For the joy that the day has brought;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Do you think what the end of a perfect day</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Can mean to a tired heart,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>When the sun goes down with a flaming ray,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And the dear friends have to part?</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Well, this is the end of a perfect day,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Near the end of a journey too;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>But it leaves a thought that is big and strong,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>With a wish that is kind and true.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>For mem'ry has painted this perfect day</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>With colors that never fade;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And we find at the end of a perfect day</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">The soul of a friend we've made</em><span>."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The fifth class of song is that of the inner -life. It is the Religious Hymn. The soldiers -are extremely fond of hymns in their services. -You cannot give them too many. "Rock of -Ages," "Jesus lover of my soul," "Fight the -good fight," "There is a green hill," "At even -ere the sun was set," "O God our help in ages -past," and "Eternal Father strong to save" -cannot be chosen too often. But there are two -hymns which have stood out above all others; -they are "Abide with me," and "When I -survey the wondrous Cross."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is nothing written by the hand of man -which can compete with these two in the -blessing and strength which they have brought to our -soldiers, especially during an offensive when -death has cast his shadow over the hearts of -all. During the bitterest weeks in the Somme -fighting there was scarcely a service in which -we did not sing "When I survey the wondrous -Cross." With its assurance of redemption it -gave comfort in the face of death. It also -gave, for an example, the Supreme Sacrifice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some of the songs I have quoted look bare -and ungainly as trees in winter, but when the -musician has clothed them with music and the -singer added to them a touch of his own -personality they are fair as trees in summer. Still -the fact remains that none of these songs will -live on their own merits. They are not born -to immortality. Like the daisies they have -their day and pass away to make room for -others. It is best so. There is not room in -the world for everything to be immortal, and -the transient has a work of its own to do. -The charm and rare beauty of the English -countryside are due to the transience of its -flowers and foliage and little of the evergreen -is enough. We tire of the eternal. The -transient songs I have quoted here have been -meat and drink to our soldiers in the most -terrible war ever waged. They may be poor stuff -in comparison with our classic songs but a good -appetite can get nourishment out of plain food -and grow strong on it. For the purpose in -hand these songs have been better than the -classics; otherwise they would not have been -chosen. There is a time and place for all -things. The robin may not be compared with -the nightingale but it is not the less welcome, -for it sings when the nightingale is silent. Our -soldiers' songs will die, some are already dead, -but they have done their work and justified -their existence. They have given pleasure and -strength to men as they went out to do -immortal deeds. No wounded soldier, or parched -traveler, thinks lightly of a cup of water -because it perished in the using; and so it is with -the songs our soldiers sing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="easter-sunday"><span class="bold large">VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">EASTER SUNDAY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Night and day for a week, the fearful -bombardment continued. Our guns -were everywhere, and belching forth -without intermission. Dumps of shells were -almost as common as sheaves in a corn-field, -and processions of ammunition-wagons piled -the shells up faster than the gorging guns -could take them. The noise was something -beyond imagination. It was as though all the -devils in hell had come out to demoniacally -celebrate the end of the world. We were -living--two transport officers and I--in an empty -farm-house that, some time before we came in, -had been a target for direct hits. One shell -had gone through the roof, and another -through the gable wall. The windows had -been shattered, and the garden and fields were -pitted with shell-holes. Our first care had been -to look at the cellar, but we had decided, if -things became too hot, to make for the open -fields. We all slept in the same room, and -were at times wakened up by "an arrival" and -passed an opinion as to its distance. If, for -a time, none came nearer, we turned over and -went to sleep again, for a man must sleep even -though it be on the edge of a volcano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One morning the servants found a shell -nose-cap beneath the window--just that, and -nothing more. The week was wearing on. -Another morning some of the 7th Middlesex -Regiment were in the baths in the village over -the way, and a company of the London -Scottish was passing by. Two shells fell in the -road. The bathers scampered out of the bath -and ran naked, here and there, for shelter; -the Scottish "scattered"; but some forty-five -soldiers, mostly kilted, lay in the road dead -or wounded. In the dead of night a party of -machine gunners, just returned from the -firing-trench, stood outside their billet in our village -square debating if they should make a cup of -tea before turning in to sleep. A shell -decided the matter, and, next morning, I laid -two of them to rest in the little cemetery, and -the others stood by as mourners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The week of terror reached its crisis on the -Sunday--an Easter Sunday never to be -forgotten. The infantry of the Brigade had been -away to a camp, beyond range, for a week's -rest. They had now returned ready for the -battle. Three of the regiments had taken up -their positions in the reserve trenches, but my -own regiment was quartered in the fatal -village. The day dawned bright and fair, but -its smiles were the smiles of a deceiver. The -Germans had decided on the destruction of the -village, a sort of devil's "hail-and-farewell" -before being driven back at the points of -bayonets. We were awakened by the firing of -machine-guns over our heads, and rushed to the -door to see a fight in the air. High up in the -blue, two aeroplanes circled about for -positions of vantage, and then rushed at one another -like hawks in mortal combat. A silence -followed. Then one rose and made off towards -the battle-line but fell to a shot of our -gunners before it could reach safety. The other, -with its petrol-tank on fire, was planing down -to earth. Down and down an invisible spiral -staircase it seemed to rush, while the golden -fire burnt at its vitals, and a trailing cloud -of smoke marked its path of doom. Breathlessly -we watched its descent. It was under -perfect control, but its path to the ground was -too long and spiral, and the faster it rushed -through the air the greater the draught -became and the more madly the flames leapt up. -Every second was precious and the certainty -of its doom made us sick. We saw the body -of the observer fall out, and still the flaming -machine pursued its course. Then the wings -fell away and twirled to the ground like -feathers, while the engine and the pilot dropped -like a stone. When the bodies were picked -up, it was found that the observer had been -shot through the head, and that the pilot, with -his dead comrade behind him, had worked the -wheel until the furious encroaching flame had -swept over him, and robbed him of mortal life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shells were now dropping in the village -every few minutes. Our farm-house was on the -right wing, and we stood watching the -bombardment. With each burst there rose a cloud -of black smoke and red brick-dust, and we -knew that another cottage has been destroyed. -Then the shells began to creep round to the -right as if the enemy was feeling for the -bridge over which the ammunition wagons -were passing. On one side of the little bridge -was a white bell-tent, and we watched the -shells dropping within a few feet of it -without destroying it. Between the tent and our -street lay a stagnant pool, and we saw about -a dozen shells fall in its water. The range -was lengthening and it seemed as if some -invisible octopus were stretching out its feelers -towards us. A shell smashed against the -farm-house at the bottom of our street. The -deadly thing was coming nearer. Some of our -sergeants were in a farm-house a few doors -away, and, hearing a shell fall in the field -between them and the pool, they came to the -decision that the moment had come "to -scatter," but they were too late. It would have -been better had they stayed indoors. As they -rushed out a shell burst over the yard three -of them fell to the ground dead, and three -more were blown back into the house by the -force of the explosion. The coping stone of -the outhouse where the shell burst was blown -away and three ragged seams were scored on -the green doorway of the yard outside which -the three lads lay dead. One of them had, -ten days before, shown me to my billet thirty -yards farther up. He acted as interpreter to -the regiment and as he had not to go into the -line, we thought that he was one of those who -would see the end of the war. Yet there he lay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the worst calamity of the day was yet -to befall. Some fifteen or sixteen ammunition -wagons, unable to get through the village, had -halted in the Square--"Wipers Square" it had -been named. Each wagon was loaded with -nine-point-two shells. An enemy-shot fell on a -wagon and set it on fire; then the village -became like unto Sodom and Gomorrah on their -day of doom. One or two drivers bravely -stuck to their wagons, and got them out but -the rest of the wagons were lost. The scene -that followed was indescribable. Doré could -never have pictured such horrors. The wagons -all caught fire and their loads of shells began -to explode. We stood out in the fields and -watched the conflagration, while all the time -the Germans continued to shell the village. -The large village-hall and the houses on each -side of the square were utterly destroyed. -Great explosions sent fragments of wagons and -houses sky-high, and showers of missiles fell -even where we stood. The fore part of one -wagon was blown on to the roof of a house. -Houses caught fire and blazed all afternoon. -Some machine-gunners joined us and told how, -when choking smoke began to penetrate into -their cellar they had to rush through the square -and its bursting shells to preserve their lives. -A German shell burst in a billet where a platoon -of our men were sheltering in the cellar, and -those who were not killed by the shell were -crushed to death by the fall of the house. -Another shell hit the roof of the house in the -cellar of which was our Advanced Dressing -Station for the morrow's battle. Two -orderlies who happened to be in the street were -killed, and the colonel was knocked down. In -the cellars of almost every house were soldiers -or civilians, and all day the ammunition wagons -continued burning; shell after shell getting red -hot and exploding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All day the German bombardment continued -and, amid a terrific din, our own gunners -returned a score or more for every one received. -By the bridge another long line of loaded -ammunition wagons stood for two hours, and -though shells were bursting close by, not one -hit the wagons. The drivers stood by them -and, as soon as the road was cleared, got them -away to the guns. Yet, while the Square was -burning and the German shells falling, -hundreds of men from the London regiments -entered the village from the right, and crossed -the bridge to stack their packs so as to be -ready for the coming battle. They walked in -single file and with wide gaps between, but not -a man ran or quickened his pace. My blood -tingled with pride at their courage and anger -at their carelessness. What </span><em class="italics">would</em><span> make a -British soldier run? An officer was walking -near the pool. A shell fell near enough for -fragments to kill him, but he merely looked -round, stopped to light a cigarette and walked -leisurely on as if nothing had happened. -Three men stood with their backs against a -small building near the bridge as if sheltering -from the rain. Several shells fell -uncomfortably near, so, concluding that the rain had -changed its direction, they moved round the -corner. And it was not till more shells had -fallen near them that they condescended to -move away altogether.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet this was not bravado for, so far as they -knew, no one was watching them. It was due -to a certain dignity peculiar to our fighting -man. He is too proud to acknowledge defeat. -He is a man, and whether any one is watching -or not, he is not going to run away from a -shell. Hundreds of lives must have been lost -through this stubborn pride but, on the other -hand, thousands of lives must have been saved -by it, for it makes the Army absolutely proof -against panic, than which, nothing is so fatal -in war. In eighteen months on the Front I -have never seen or heard of a single case of -panic either with many or few. Our soldiers -are always masters of themselves. They have -the coolness to judge what is the wisest thing -to do in the circumstances, and they have the -nerve to carry it out. They run unnecessary -risks through pride but never through panic. -All that day on the bridge, a military -policeman stood at his post of duty. Like Vesuvius -of old the exploding shells in the Square sent -up their deadly eruption, and like the Roman -sentry at Pompeii, he stood at his post. As -he stood there I saw a young French woman -leave her house and pass him on the bridge. -She was leaving the village for a safer place -but she seemed quite composed and carried a -basket on her left arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While our village was being destroyed we -were startled by a tremendous explosion a few -miles away; and looking to our left we saw -a huge tongue of flame leap up to the sky, -followed by a wonderful pillar of smoke which -stood rigid for some moments like a monster -tower of Babel reaching up to the heavens. -Evidently a dump of cordite had been fired -by an enemy shell. Farther off still, another -dump was on fire. Time and again, bright -flames leapt from the ground only to be -smothered again by dense curling masses of smoke. -It seemed as if our whole front was on fire, -and news came to us that our main road of -communication had been heavily shelled, and -was now strewn with dead horses and men. -Before the battle of the Somme there were no -signs and portents so terrible as these: It was -evident that the enemy knew what was in store -for him on the morrow, and was preparing -against it, but if the prelude was so magnificent -in its terror, what would the battle be? -Imagination staggered under the contemplation. By -four o'clock the bombardment was almost at an -end, and nearly all the shells in the Square had -exploded. The soldiers began to creep out of -the cellars. On passing through the Square we -were amazed at the sight. In fact the -Transport Officer passed through at my side without -recognizing the place. At the entrance was a -team of six dead mules lying prone on the -ground and terribly torn. Two rows of houses -had disappeared, leaving mere heaps of stones -in their places. The pavement was torn up, -and the wrecks of the ammunition wagons lay -scattered about. Two houses were still -burning. Our colonel and adjutant we found by -the side of the stream. They had been in a -cellar near the Square all day but, fortunately, -they were little the worse for the experience. -They were giving orders for the assembling -of the scattered regiment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time, civilians were leaving the -cellars, and with armfuls of household goods -hastening from the village. To them it seemed -the end of all things--the day of doom. Some -of them had slight wounds and as they passed -us they cried mournfully, "Finis, Messieurs, -Finis." All was lost. This exodus of the -despairing civilians was the saddest sight of the -day. By sunset the regiment had been gathered -together--all except the wounded who had -been sent to the Main Dressing Station and -the dead who had been placed side by side and -covered with blankets. Most of our officers -and men had lost all their belongings, but in -the twilight they marched out of the village -and took their places in the reserve trenches -near the other battalions. These had suffered -no losses. They had been saved the long day's -agony. Early in the morning the battle was -to begin but the Westminsters knew that no -worse experience could await them than that -through which they had already passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning I buried, near the ruined -church, the bodies of the sergeants who had -been killed a few doors from us; and on the -following day I laid to rest, side by side, in one -long grave, two drivers who had died at their -posts in the Square, together with an officer -and twenty men belonging to the 1st Queen's -Westminster Rifles.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="now-the-day-is-over"><span class="bold large">VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">"NOW THE DAY IS OVER"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Achicourt is a little village about -a mile out of Arras. It has two -churches, one Roman Catholic, the -other, Lutheran. The former church has been -utterly destroyed by German shells, and will -have to be rebuilt from the foundations. The -Lutheran church was less prominently placed, -and its four walls are still standing. Its -humility has saved it, but, as by fire. All its -windows are gone, and its walls are torn and -scarred by fragments of shells. Most of its -slates have been destroyed and the rain pours -through the roof. But, on dry days, and until -the Battle of Arras, it was a beloved little -place for services. It stood, however, at a -corner of the village Square, and the Square -was destroyed by hundreds of exploding shells -on Easter Sunday. As I passed it in the -afternoon of that day, and saw how it had suffered, -my heart grew sad within me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Often it had sheltered us at worship, and -many of our most sacred memories will, for -ever, cling like ivy to its walls. The door was -smashed in, the vestibule torn into strips as -by lightning. The pews were strewn on the -floor with their backs broken; even the frames -of the windows had been blown out. There -was a little portable organ that we had used -with our hymns, and it lay mutilated on the -floor like a slaughtered child. The floor was -white with plaster, as when a sharp frost has -brought low the cherry blossom. Never again, -I thought, should I gather my men for worship -within its humble, hospitable walls. One more -of the beautiful and sacred things of life had -perished in this all-devouring war. Only the -fields remained, and there all my future services -must be held.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But "fears may be liars" and so mine proved. -I had reckoned without the man in khaki--that -master of fate whose head "beneath the -bludgeonings of chance, is bloody but -unbowed." In a week he had cleared the Square -of its dead--mules and men--filled in its -craters, and cleared away the debris that -blocked the roads. He was even removing the -fallen houses in order to mend the roads with -their bricks and stones; and he had thrown -together all the scraps of iron for salvage. -There I found, lying side by side, the burned -tin-soldiers of the children; officers' revolvers -which, being loaded, had exploded in the heat; -bayonets and rifle-barrels of the men; broken -sewing machines of the women. He had taken -in hand, too, the little church. Sacking was -spread across the windows; the remnants of -the little organ were carefully placed under -the pulpit where they lay like the body of a -saint beneath an altar; the floor was swept of -its fallen plaster. The pews were repaired and -placed in order again, and a new door was -made. Even timber was brought for a new -vestibule. The wood was rough and -unpainted--Tommy had to use what he could -get--but it served. The twisted railings were -drawn away from the entrance, and, on the -following Sunday, we were back in our old -sanctuary. We felt that it was more sacred -than ever. These are the deeds of our -fighting-man that make us love him so much, and -these are the acts of kindness and common -sense that make us admire our commanders. -Both officers and men have the heart of a lion -in the hour of battle, the gentleness of a lamb -when it is over. Whatever their circumstances, -they cannot cease to be gentlemen, nor forget -the fathers that begat them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Let him who doubts the future of England -come hither. He will see the past through the -present, and the future through both. Tommy's -eyes are the crystal gazing-glasses in which he -will discern the future. Tommy is living -history and the prophecy of the future made -flesh. The pessimists have not seen Tommy -here, and that is why they are what they are. -"Age cannot wither nor custom stale" his -infinite freshness and resource. He is a sword -that the rust of time cannot corrode, nor the -might of an enemy break, and he will be found -flashing wherever there are wrongs to right and -weak to be defended. On Easter Sunday he -was calmly enduring the horror of the German -bombardment and the explosions of his own -dump of shells. On Easter Monday he was -driving the Germans at the point of his bayonet, -or accepting their surrender at the doors of -their dug-outs! On Easter Tuesday and -Wednesday he was repairing a little French -chapel for worship. Take him which day -you will, and you will find him mighty hard to -match. To me he is the king of men, and -his genius, cheerfulness and resourcefulness -beyond the range of explanations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After some weeks of fighting we had come -to our last Sunday in Achicourt, and were -gathered for the evening service. The chapel -was jammed with officers and men, but not all -my flock was there. There was Rifleman -Gibson absent. He was carrying his beloved -Lewis gun in an attack when a bullet struck -him, and he died, as his comrades report, with -a smile upon his face. Before going into the -battle he had given me his father's address -and thanked me for the spiritual help he had -received at the services. It was his farewell -to me, and his father now has the penciled -words. And Rifleman Stone was absent, too. -He was but a boy, and beautiful with youth -and goodness. His comrades loved him as -David loved Jonathan, with a love passing the -love of women. Every day, they told me in -their grief, he knelt in the trench to say his -prayers and to read his Bible. One night after -praying he laid him down and slept. He had -often sung the evening hymn:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Jesus protects; my fears, be gone!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>What can the Rock of Ages move?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Safe in Thy arm I lay me down,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Thy everlasting arms of love.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"While Thou art intimately nigh,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Who, then, shall violate my rest?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Sin, earth, and hell I now defy;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>I lean upon my Saviour's breast.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Me for Thine own Thou lov'st to take,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>In time and in eternity,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Thou never, never wilt forsake</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>A helpless soul that trusts in Thee."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And as he slept, God took him from the -misery of this world--took him without -waking him. His broken-hearted comrades -gathered together his broken body, and a friend, -a Congregational preacher, who, though over -military age, was serving in the ranks, read the -burial service over him. Lance-corporal -Gilbert James was missing, too--he whom I had -known to lose his breakfast to attend a service -in a cold, dirty, old barn. And many others -were absent whose departure to the Land beyond -our mortal reach was to us like the putting -out of stars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were leaving the Arras front and we -sang a hymn for those who had taken our places:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"O Lord of Hosts, Whose mighty arm</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In safety keeps 'mid war's alarm,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Protect our comrades at the Front</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who bear of war the bitter brunt.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And in the hour of danger spread</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thy sheltering wings above each head,</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"In battle's harsh and dreadful hour,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Make bare Thine arm of sovereign power,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And fight for them who fight for Thee,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And give to justice, victory.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>O in the hour of danger spread</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thy sheltering wings above each head.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"If by the way they wounded lie,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O listen to their plaintive cry;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And rest them on Thy loving breast,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O Thou on Whom the cross was pressed;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And in the hour of danger shed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thy glorious radiance o'er each head.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"When pestilence at noonday wastes,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And death in triumph onward hastes,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O Saviour Christ, remember Nain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And give us our beloved again.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>In every ward of sickness tread,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And lay Thy hand upon each head.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"O Friend and Comforter divine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who makest light at midnight shine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Give consolation to the sad</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who in the days of peace were glad.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And in the hour of sorrow spread</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thy wings above each drooping head.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Amen."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I had to find a new voice to start it, for our -little organ had been destroyed by a shell, -and our precentor was lying in a grave beside -his Medical Aid Post at Guemappe. When, -on Good Friday, we had sung the hymn -before, the regiment returned from rest billets to -the line, he had started the tune. His love -for music was second only to that of risking -his life for the wounded. In one of his letters -given me to censor, he had written, "How nice -it will be to be back in my old place in the -choir." But he was destined not to go back. -His path was onward and upward, and his -place was in the heavenly choir. I had seen -it in his large, tender blue eyes. There was -in them an expression as if he had seen "the -land that is very far off." I felt that he was -chosen as a sacrifice--that the seal of God was -on his forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, we had to sing, though his voice was -silent. So we sang--several tunes, for hymns -seemed all our spirits needed. What need -was there for a sermon when we had hymns? -We left the rag-time type of hymn and sang -the real deep things that come from men's -hearts, and ever after are taken up by their -fellows to express their deepest aspirations and -experiences. The ruined chapel vibrated with -music, and men, I am told, stood in the street -to listen while "Jesus, Lover of my Soul," -"Rock of Ages," "When I Survey the -Wondrous Cross" and "The Sands of Time are -Sinking" told of the faith and love that lift -up the heart. We also sang "Abide with -Me." After hearing us sing it one night, a Roman -Catholic officer in the regiment, a Canadian -and one of the bravest, most beloved men that -ever walked, told me that he was a -great-grandson of the author. He is in hospital -now with severe wounds, but his men were present.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't we take up a collection for the -repair of the chapel when peace comes?" -whispered a rifleman; "it would be a sort of -thanksgiving for the good times we have had -in it, and for the kindness of the congregation -in giving us the use of it so freely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I put the suggestion to the men and they -voted for it with enthusiasm. Two of them -went round with their caps and out of their -shallow purses the big-hearted fellows gave -over 100 francs. In the name of the men I -presented the full caps to a lady of the -congregation who was present, and she was -moved to tears. The time was quickly passing, -so I mounted the pulpit and told them of -words spoken after the earth's first great -trouble, when the black wings of death had -cast their shadow over every home: "And God -said, I do set my bow in the cloud, and it -shall be for a token of a covenant between me -and the earth. And it shall come to pass, when -I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow -shall be seen in the cloud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God," I said, "has made a covenant with -man, for man is His neighbor and subject; and -there must be an understanding between them, -if there is to be peace and happiness. Man -must know God's will or he will grieve Him -and there will be discord and pain. Also, man -must know God's intentions concerning him, -and something of His ways, or else he will live -in fear and dread of the Almighty One in -whose power he lies. There were no books -and parchment in the first days, so God took -the sky for His parchment, and dipping His -fingers in the most lovely of colors, wrote out -His covenant with man. He spread it out -between earth and heaven so that man might look -up and see it without obstruction, and so that -He Himself might look down on it and -remember His agreement. 'The bow,' He said, -'shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon -it, that I may remember the everlasting -covenant.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When you draw up a covenant with a neighbor, -you look well at it and then give it to your -attorney, who puts it away in the darkness -of the safe. But it is taken out at intervals -for fresh examination. And the rainbow-covenant -was put away behind the clouds, to be -brought out again from time to time to bring -comfort and strength to man by its appearance. -The rainbow is only half seen by man. -The lower half of its circle is lost in the -earth. It exists, but unseen. And the full -circle of God's beautiful covenant with man -has never appeared to our eyes. A full half -is lost in the unapprehending darkness of -man's mind. The full purpose of God is not -realized. His plans are too vast and glorious -for the intellect or imagination to span; but -half the rainbow is seen and it is enough. -Seeing half we can take the rest on trust. In the -covenant we are assured that we shall never be -given darkness without light, winter without -summer, seedtime without harvest, death -without birth, sorrow without joy, or a thick cloud -without a rainbow. He binds Himself not to -give evil without good, or to bring tears -without laughter. "I do set My bow in the cloud; -and it shall come to pass when I bring a cloud -over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rainbow is made up of rain and sunshine -and life is woven of the same stuff--tears and -laughter. The most glorious sunshine is -incapable of a rainbow without the co-operation -of the dark trailing clouds; and it is impossible -for the human character to reach its ripest -maturity and beauty on joy alone. Sorrow is -as beneficent and necessary as joy. There are -untutored natives who dread the rainbow. -They believe that it is a serpent that rises out -of the pools to devour men; and there are -unbelieving men in cultured lands who dread -adversity no less. They do not believe that -</span><em class="italics">God</em><span> 'brings the cloud.' The rainbow is their -refutation and it is written across the sky for -all to see. On the other hand, there are -unbelieving men who see only the cloud and are -blind to the sunshine. To them life is one long -tragedy. It is an immense futility. They -regard man as a mere cork in the sea, thrown -about by blind, deaf, unintelligible natural -forces void of purpose; active indeed but -ungoverned. Human life to them is a black -cloud driven through immensity by the winds -of unintelligent fate. It has no meaning and -its darkness is the deeper because they cannot -call a halt and disperse it into nothingness. -Like Job's wife they would say 'Curse God and -die,' yet they cannot die. But Job, as he sits -on the dunghill, looks up at the rainbow and -finds a truer philosophy. 'What?' says he, -'shall we receive good at the hand of God, and -shall we not receive evil?' Under the rainbow's -arch there are fruitful fields and beautiful -gardens for where the rainbow hangs in air -there is sunshine and there is rain--the parents -of fruitfulness. And to whom God gives in -equal measure joy and sorrow there is beauty -and fruitfulness of heart and life. His promise -to 'every living creature' is that He will never -send the cloud without the sunshine and, what -is not less gracious, He will never send the -sunshine without the cloud. When by day the -Israelites tramped the fiery desert He led them -by a pillar of cloud, and they marched in its -shade; and in the blackness of night He threw -in the sky a pillar of sunshine; and they -walked through the gloom in its light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In these terrible days of war when our -hearts begin to fail us and dark doubts cloud -the mind, let us look at the Covenant God -has made with us. He has set it in rainbow -colors across the sky, that 'he who runs may -read' and 'the wayfaring man though a fool -may not err.' God has flung his rainbow over -the trench and the grave; over the Garden of -Gethsemane; over the Cross on Calvary. It -is over the tomb in the Arimathean's Garden; -and over Olivet, as Christ ascends to heaven. -We are born under the rainbow, live under it, -die under it. At the last we shall find it over -the throne of Judgment. Water and blood -flowed from Christ's side; and life and death, -joy and pain, light and darkness, summer and -winter, peace and war come forth from God.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us take life as it comes with obedient -wills and grateful hearts. The bee finds honey -in the thistle as well as in the rose, and 'where -the bee sucks there suck I,' for He who guides -the bee guides me. Only in loving obedience -to God shall we find true wisdom. It is not -so much what we are given as how we take -it that matters. To be humble nothing may -be so sweet as sorrow; and to the proud nothing -may be so bitter as pleasure. Let us leave -God to mix the ingredients of our life, for -'all things work together for good to them -that love God.' It is all in the covenant -written by God's fingers in the colors of the -rainbow, and whenever He brings it from beyond -the clouds, let us look at it with reverent -eyes, and ponder its promise. Then shall we -be able to say, with Wordsworth,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'My heart leaps up when I behold</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A rainbow in the sky.'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After I had finished speaking we sang, at -the request of one of the sergeants, the hymn -commencing</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"The Day Thou gavest Lord is ended,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The darkness falls at Thy behest."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And beautiful indeed was the singing of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Benediction followed. Just as I was -ending it an impulse came to me, and I yielded -to its importunity. "Before we part and before -we leave Achicourt which has meant so much -to us of joy and sorrow," I said, "let us sing -a kiddies' hymn. We still shelter in our hearts -a little child. Though we have grown moustaches -and some of us gray hairs, the child -that we once were, never quite dies. Let us -have a hymn for the boy within us who never -grows up and never dies." Then I read out -verse by verse, for it was not in their books:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Now the day is over,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Night is drawing nigh,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shadows of the evening</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Steal across the sky.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Jesus, give the weary</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Calm and sweet repose;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With Thy tenderest blessing</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>May their eyelids close.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Grant to little children</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Visions bright of Thee;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Guarding the sailors tossing</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the angry sea.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Comfort every sufferer</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Watching late in pain;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Those who plan some evil</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From their sin restrain.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"When the morning wakens,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then may I arise</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Pure and fresh, and sinless</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In Thy holy eyes."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I have witnessed many moving sights in my -time and heard much deep and thrilling music; -but I have never been so deeply moved by -anything as by the rich, deep voices of these -gallant men and boys who, after winning the -Battle of Arras, had come into this ruined -church and were singing this beautiful kiddies' -hymn as their last farewell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The collection the boys had taken up had -been so heavy that we carried it to the French -lady's house for her. As we entered her home -she said in her simple way, as her eyes grew -radiant with gratitude, "I like the English -soldiers." It was the voice of France. And -she was worthy to speak for France. For -two-and-a-half years her house had stood -within a mile of the German trenches, and but -a few hundred yards from our own firing line. -Yet she and her mother had never left it. She -introduced me to her mother, who had lived -in London, and spoke English. Then she -brought in coffee. I had noticed a most -remarkable thing about the house. There was -not a piece of glass broken, nor a mark of -war on the walls. It was the only house I -have seen, either in Achicourt or Arras, upon -which the war has not laid its monstrous and -bloody finger. "How is it," I asked the -mother, "that your house has not been -touched?" Her eyes shone and a sweet smile -lit up her face. "It is the will of God," she -said simply. "Shells have fallen a little short -of us and a little beyond us. They have passed -within a yard of the house, and we have heard -the rushing of the wind as they passed, but -they have not touched us. When the village -has been bombarded we have gone down into -the cellar as was but discretion and duty, but -we have had the conviction all along that we -should be spared, and we refused to leave the -house. We do not know God's purpose but -we believe that it is God's will to spare us." I -leave the fact to speak for itself and offer -no explanation. Skeptics will say the house -was spared by accident; but they would not -have stayed there two-and-a-half years trusting -to such an accident. These two women, -without a man in the house, stayed on the very -confines of hell with its hourly suspense and -danger for nearly three years, because they -believed it was God's will and that, though they -walked through the fiery furnace heated seven -times hotter than it was wont to be heated, -He would not allow so much as a hair of their -heads to be singed. And not a hair was singed. -They were women in whom faith burned like -a bright pillar of fire. One caught its light, -and felt its heat. I have met patriots and -heroes and know their quality when I see them -and come near them. These were "the real -thing." Faith in God and faith in their -country were interwoven in their spirits like sun -and shower in a rainbow. They were of the -same breed as the Maid of France, and like -her, with their white banner bearing the -device of the Cross, they withstood and defied -the might and terror of the invader. They -believed it was God's will they should stay, -to "Be still and know that I am God." Their -experience was expressed by the Psalmist -centuries ago: "God is our refuge and -strength, a very present help in trouble. -Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be -removed, and though the mountains be carried -into the midst of the sea. Though the waters -thereof roar and be troubled, though the -mountains shake with the swellings thereof -... Come behold the works of the Lord, what -desolations He hath made in the earth. He -maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth; -He breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear in -sunder; He burneth the chariot in the fire.... -The Lord of Hosts is with us; the God of -Jacob is our refuge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such was the faith of these two women, and -their courage few men have approached. It -is a practical matter, and after comparing it -with the skeptic's theory of accident and -coincidence and remembering his probable haste in -seeking a place not so liable to untoward -accidents, I accept the explanation of the women. -Their house was spared and not a hair of -their heads injured because "it was God's will." If -it is not the correct theory, it ought to be. -Otherwise falsehood is more sustaining than -truth, and inspires nobler conduct.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day was now over. A new chapter of -life had been written, and in the morning, we -left behind us this village of precious memories, -and marched out again into the unknown.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sons-of-the-motherland"><span class="bold large">VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">SONS OF THE MOTHERLAND</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It is said that the eel is born in the deepest -part of the ocean, thousands of miles -from any country, and that, urged by an -overpowering instinct it begins almost at once -to rise towards the light and to head for the -land. After slowly swimming thousands of -miles it reaches our rivers, and pushes its way -up to their sources, and even crawls through -the grass out of one stream into another. Here, -if uncaught by man, it lives for years gorging -an appetite which only developed on reaching -the fresh water. Then, the overmastering -instinct that brought it out, takes it back. It -returns through the illimitable waters until it -finds the place where it was born. There the -female lays her eggs and there male and female -die. The eggs hatch, and the young do as -their parents did before them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I do not think I could kill or eat an eel. -I have too much reverence for it now that -I have learned its story. When in the fish -market I see an eel struggling, I feel that -I want to take it and drop it into the sea -that it may go to its long home "far from -the madding crowd's ignoble strife." How -passionate and wild must be its desire to -get back to its own ocean depths where it -may perpetuate its kind and die in peace. -Its appetite is voracious, but then, what but -the mightiest and most elemental instincts and -appetites could carry it through achievements -so sublime and tragic. Picture it on its lone -way through the deep, urged on by it knows -not what. Scientists say that man has evolved -from a tiny form of life that passed through -the fish stage. If so, it explains a lot and I, -for one, shall not be ashamed to acknowledge -relationship to a fish with a life story as -sublime as that of the eel. I know that Genesis -speaks truly when it says that God made us -out of the dust of the earth and breathed into -our souls the breath of His own being thus -animating dust with divinity. And if from the -other inspired book, the book of Nature, -scientists can teach how God mixed the clay when -He fashioned man I will accept the teaching -with gratitude, for it will help me to -understand things that are dark in me and in my -fellows. It will throw light on the wild -longings, and instincts immature, that baffle the -mind, and come into the clear shallow streams -of life like eels out of the dark unfathomable -depths of the ocean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since I went to France I have been amazed -at the homing instinct as revealed in the -coming together of the sons of the British -Motherland. People at home do not quite realize -what has happened. Britain's sons have come -back to her--have come back to die that their -race may be saved and perpetuated. The -British are a roving race. A large number of -them yield to an overpowering desire to go -out into the world. The South Pole and the -North Pole have known the tread of their feet. -Their ships have anchored in every creek of -every sea. There is no town or country -however remote where their voices have not been -heard. Even Mecca could not keep the Briton -out. He must look upon its Black Stone. All -lands call him to come, and see, and conquer. -He colonizes and absorbs but cannot be -absorbed. He is a Briton still. A friend of -mine told me that when visiting Australia -strangers who had never seen England, except -in and through their fathers, would come to -him in railway carriage or 'bus, and ask "How -is everything at </span><em class="italics">Home</em><span>?" And Dr. Fitchett, -Australia's splendid author, confesses that when -he first saw the land of his fathers he knelt -down and kissed its shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Loving the homeland with a passion stronger -than death the Briton leaves it, for he hears -the call of the world borne on the winds and -waves from afar, and cannot refuse it. In -foreign lands he lives and labors. He roams -their fields and swims in their streams, but -always with an ear listening for the voice of the -Motherland; for he is hers, and at her service -if she calls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Declaration of War on Aug. 4, 1914, -was the Mother's call to her children. Swifter -than lightning it passed through the waves and -on the wings of the wind. The settler left his -lonely cabin, the gold-digger his shovel, the -prospector his surveying instruments, the -rancher his herds, the missionary his church, -the teacher his school, the clerk his office, and -all made for the nearest port. Within a month -there was not a ship on the wide seas but was -bearing loyal sons back to their Motherland's -defense. I have met, in France, British -soldiers from every country under heaven. I -bent over a dying soldier near Arras who was -a clerk in Riga, Russia, when the call came. -And one night on the Somme a fine young -fellow from Africa entered my tent, and slept -by my side. He was one of the most charming -and handsome men I have ever met, and had -come from Durban. He had fought with -Botha in Southwest Africa, and at the -conclusion of that campaign had shipped for home. -Next day I took him to Delville Wood for he -wanted to see the place where his brother had -died. I found that he was of my own -communion and we talked about some of my -college friends who had gone out to Natal. Two -days later, he died of wounds in a dressing -station. Most of the transport officers in our -Division have come home from abroad, and -have been given their posts because they are -accustomed to horses. One was prospecting in -Nigeria, another salmon-canning in Siberia, a -third on a plantation in South America.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In addition to Canadians, South Africans, -Australians, and New Zealanders, who have -come by the hundred thousand at the call of -the Motherland, there are hundreds of thousands -who have come singly, or in small parties, -from remote corners of the earth. For five -weeks I was a patient in a Canadian hospital -in France. The entire staff was Canadian. -Some were Canadian born; others had gone out -to that country years ago. All were of British -blood. The colonel was a magnificent -specimen of manhood from London, Ontario, in -which city he had been born. He would sit -on the bed and tell us tales of the great -snow-land. Sometimes he would scold us for being -so blind to the greatness of the Empire and tell -us what Canada thought of the Motherland. -One of the night orderlies would, on occasion, -recite to us some poem such as "Jim Bludso," -before the lights went out. Then he would -come to my locker and take "Palgrave's -Treasury of Songs and Lyrics" with which to -regale his soul during the long watches of the -night. He was of the full stature of men and -straight as a pine. He had gone out from -Ireland as a boy, and settled on a cattle ranch -in the United States. One day there was -trouble and one of the other cowboys sent a -bullet clean through his chest. The moment -war was declared he left his roving herds of -cattle, crossed the frontier into Canada and -traveled hundreds of miles to Winnipeg to -enlist. The doctor looked at him. "What is -this scar on your chest?" he asked. "Oh," -replied the cowboy, "I fell off a wagon and -knocked the skin off." The doctor turned him -round and put his finger in the scar on his -back where the bullet had passed out. "And -what is this scar at the back? Did you fall -off another wagon?" And the two men understood -one another and laughed. The doctor -could not find it in his heart to send the -cowboy back to his ranch, so he was passed into -the Canadian contingent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of the nurses we called "the Little -Mother." She had gone to Canada five years -before, but the war had brought her back, and -well was it for us that it had. Among the -patients was a doctor in the American A.M.C. -His ancestors had left England generations ago -and settled in New England, but he had come -back at the call of war--a grandson of the -Motherland. Then there was a lieutenant of -British stock who had been born and brought -up at Antwerp, but as the German guns were -destroying his native city he took ship to enlist -in the British army. "Anzac" was, as his -nickname denotes, an Australian. He was in the -Flying Corps. He had heard the call at school -and had come "home" to the land of his fathers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In one regiment I found a bunch of lads who -had been born in China. But, out there in -Hong Kong, they heard the call of a Motherland -they had never seen, and came post haste -to her help. Sitting near me as I write, is an -officer back from the Argentine, and already, on -his arm, is a gold wound-stripe. Another in the -mess had been pearl-fishing in Australia, but -stored his boats to come and fight. Another -at our table was born in Australia. He was -with Captain Falcon Scott on his last -expedition, and saw him go out to the South Pole -and death. He has already been wounded. -When the war broke out its tumult seemed to -wake our fathers and we felt them stir in our -blood; for ancestors are not put into graves -but are buried alive in their sons. We felt the -call to defend our race as our fathers did in -their day. It was a master instinct, and the -millions of men who voluntarily left home and -business to fight show how deeply nationality -is rooted in human nature. Returning from a -far land to die--if needs be--that their kind -may live, the scattered sons of our Motherland -have come by all the seas to defend her, in her -hour of need.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"They came as the winds come</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>When forests are rended;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>They came as the waves come</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>When navies are stranded."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-terror-by-night"><span class="bold large">IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE TERROR BY NIGHT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>June was a flaming month on the high -ground we had captured beyond Arras. -The Quartermaster and Transport -Officer with whom I was messing were both "on -leave" so, as I was the only officer left in the -camp, a Baptist padre, whose regiment was -near, came to live with me. I had a little brown -tent five feet wide and six feet long which a -rifleman had lent to me because the bell-tent -I was expecting had not arrived. The -rifleman did not need his tent, for he and his -chums had built themselves a little dug-out. -Next day the bell-tent arrived, and the other -padre took possession of it, while I held on to -the little brown shelter. Next to it was the -kitchen where the servants slept and cooked. -It was a truly wonderful contrivance of wood, -corrugated iron and ground-sheets. The -Baptist chaplain's tent was round, my shelter -oblong, but what shape the kitchen was, would -pass the wit of man to say. It was a shape -never seen on earth before. It had no ancestor -and it could have no descendant. Such a -design could not occur twice. Beyond the kitchen -were the horse-lines of the regiment and close -by them the regimental stores. It was so hot -that we all wore our lightest clothing; and -when the servants got lemons from Arras, the -lemonade they made lasted about five minutes -only, for what was left by us was quickly drunk -up by the servants with the assistance of those -who like to frequent such happy places as mess -kitchens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All our meals were served out of doors, -under the blue sky. We had guests most days, -for officers coming out from the homeland -stayed with us for a night or a day before -going up with the rations to join the regiment -in the trench. Other officers had come down -to stay with us on their way to a course at some -military school; and one, at least, came to wait -for the day on which he was to take his "leave." We -were, therefore, a very merry party. It -was almost like camping on the Yorkshire -moors, for we had an uninterrupted view of -many miles. To those who love vast stretches -of wild barren country as I do, the scene under -the flaming June sun was exceedingly impressive. -There were no houses, streams, hedges, -or trees, but the whole area was scored with -trenches cut into the white chalk, and showing -clearly at great distances. The ground, with -but short spaces between, was covered with -encampments. These consisted of the stores and -horse-lines of the regiments and batteries in -the line. The circle of the horizon was bounded -by the charred ruins of French villages--Beaurains, -Neuville, Vitasse, Wancourt, Monchy -and Tilloy. We could see the flashing of our -own guns, and the black bursts of shells from -those of the enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All day the sky was thick with aeroplanes, -and many were too high to be seen except -through strong field glasses. We watched a -German aeroplane circling over Arras and -directing the fire of the long guns. Soon the -streets were strewn with dead and wounded, -for the town was full of troops. The firing -only lasted a few minutes, however. One of -our aeroplanes quickly challenged the enemy to -single combat; and we soon saw the German -machine falling from an immense height, wing -over wing and head over tail, utterly out of -control.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dinner, in the cool of the evening, was a -most pleasant meal. As we drank our coffee -we watched the aeroplanes returning from the -line like birds to their nests. Sometimes we -counted as many as twenty, all heading for -home at the same time. The sun set in red -and golden splendor, and we wondered what -darkness would bring. On the night before -our arrival, the regiment which made way for -us had one of its storemen killed by a shell; -and on most nights a few shells fell in some -part or other of the vast camp. One evening -shells fell a little beyond us and the -transport-sergeant moved his horse-lines. After that, -he moved them every evening at dark, so that -the ground where the enemy had observed the -horses in the day-time was left vacant when -he opened fire at night. It was a game of -chess with horses and men for pawns, and life -and death for the stakes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the evening before, our guest--a young -lieutenant--was to go on leave, he got very -uneasy. As gulls scent the approach of stormy -weather and come inland, or blackbirds and -larks feel the approach of winter and migrate -to summer lands, so men can sometimes scent -danger and coming death. He had with him a -bottle of whisky, and he kept it on the table -outside my tent--a safe place for it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mind telling you, Padre," he said, -as he poured out a glass, "I've got the -'wind-up' badly to-night. I don't like the feel of -things. I would rather be in the trenches than -here, because I know what is likely to happen -there, but here in the open I feel strange and -unprotected. I shall be glad when it is -morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His feeling was quite natural. We always -feel another man's dangers more than our own -because they are new to us and we don't know -what to expect or how to meet them. A man -will choose a big danger that he is used to, -sooner than a lesser danger that is new to -him. Besides, the lieutenant had his -"leave-warrant" in his breast pocket and that will sap -any man's courage. He has a feeling that the -shells are after his "leave-warrant" and that -the gunners know where it is. He suspects that -fate is malignant and takes a special delight -in killing a man when he is on the way to -"Blighty." Many a man has been killed with -a "leave-warrant" in his pocket, or "commission -papers" in it which were taking him home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our doctor told me how one night he and -the chaplain who preceded me were riding on -the front of an ambulance car when a shell -burst and with a fragment killed the chaplain. -In the padre's pocket was his warrant, and he -was taking his last ride before going home; -but instead of going home in "Blighty" he went -to his </span><em class="italics">long</em><span> home, and the warrant lies in the -grave with him. A man feels particularly -vulnerable when the long-looked-for -"leave-warrant" is in his pocket. He does not fear -death after "leave," but he does on the eve of -"leave." He wants one more look at his home -and loved ones before going on the long and -lone journey which, despite all the comfort -which the Christian religion gives, still retains -much of its terror to the human spirit. There -have been few better Christians than Samuel -Johnson and John Bunyan, but neither of them -could contemplate fording the river of death -without misgivings. When they came to it they -found it much less formidable than they had -expected. Had they been at the Front with -"leave-warrants" in their pockets to "Fleet -Street, London," or "Elstow, Bedford," I -fancy neither of them would have taken undue risks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could sympathize with the young lieutenant -for, a few months before, a "leave-warrant" -had made a bit of a coward of myself. I was -in two minds whether or not to go up to the -firing line to see the men again before shipping -for home. The "leave-warrant" was in my -pocket, and I was to go next morning; but the -doctor's story of my predecessor came to my -mind, and the "leave-warrant" spread itself out -before the eyes of my imagination. I saw the -faces of my wife, and mother, and dog, and -the faces of my friends. The old home and -the green fields stretched out before me; and -I decided to see them first and the "boys" after. -I had just been with my men, but it was a long -time since I had been with those at home. If -there was a shell with my name and address -on it, I thought I would make the Hun wait -till I had been home, before I let him deliver -it into my hands. I think a "leave-warrant" -would make a coward of any man. At any -rate, the feeling is quite understood and -recognized by everyone at the Front; and this young -officer had been sent down from the trenches -to us, three days before his train was due to -start, so that he might have a better chance of -using his "warrant," and at the same time, feel -more at ease in mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I undressed and got into bed, and lay reading -by the light of a candle when the lieutenant -came to the tent door again. "It's no use, -Padre," he said, "I can't go to bed yet. I feel -too uneasy. I wish I were on the train." He -went back to the bell-tent he was sharing with -the other chaplain, and I put out my light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was the silence of a summer evening -broken only by the distant bursting of shells. -Then, suddenly, there was a crash about seventy -yards from our tents, and two more near the -horse-lines. "To run or not run?" that was -the question; and my answer was in the -negative. If I ran, it was just as likely that I -should run into a shell, as out of the way of -one. On Easter Sunday I had seen three of -our non-commissioned officers killed in that -way. Besides, I like my bed, once I have taken -the trouble to get into it. I therefore put on -my steel helmet which I had placed by the -bed-side, and waited to see what would happen. -(A steel helmet is a wonderful comfort when -men are under fire. We may not have much -in our heads but we feel more anxious about -them than about all the rest of the body. The -helmets are heavy and uncomfortable and we -don't like wearing them, but, nevertheless, may -blessings ever rest on the head of the man -who invented them. I have seen scores of lives -saved by them, and they have given infinite -comfort and assurance in trying moments.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A long silence elapsed, then the lieutenant -appeared at the door of the tent again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You haven't been here all the time, have -you?" he asked. "We went down to the old -trenches at the bottom of the camp; but it is -rather cold and wearisome there, and I think -the worst is over now. I'm just going to take -another sip of the 'Scotch wine' and then turn -in for the night; but I'm not going to undress."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ten minutes later there was a tremendous -crash as if a star had fallen on top of us. -There came a blinding flash of light, a strong -smell of powder, and a spluttering of bullets -on the ground. That was enough to get the -laziest man living out of bed, and to answer -the question, "to run or not to run?" in the -affirmative. I slipped on my boots without -fastening them, put on my trench coat and bade -my little tent a fond farewell. There were -some old German gun-pits close by, and I -sought refuge there. "Come in here, sir," cried -a voice, and I found myself by the side of a -sergeant. Then the cook ran in bare-foot and -laughing. No one seemed to have been hit, and -all had now sought shelter. We waited for -some time and nothing further happened. The -night was cold and I began to shiver in my -pajamas. So I started to look about for a -place to sleep in, for a feeling of estrangement -had grown up between me and the little brown -tent. There was a path across a shallow bit -of trench, and underneath it I found the barber, -lying comfortably on his bed. He invited me -in, and said that I could have the bed, and -he would sleep at the side of it on his -ground-sheet. He could, he said, sleep as soundly on -the ground as on the bed of stretched sacking. -I therefore returned to my tent to get blankets. -The time-fuse of a shell had gone through the -kitchen and rebounded from a beam on to my -servant, but without doing him any injury and -he proposed sleeping there for the night. He -only agreed to move to some safer place, when -I ordered him to do so. There was no one -in the bell-tent so I knew the occupants were -quite safe somewhere. On striking a light to -get my blankets, I noticed three small holes -in the top of the tent, and knew that shrapnel -bullets had missed me only by inches. It had -been a close shave and it was not inappropriate -that I was now going to be the guest of a -barber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The psychological effect was not one I should -have expected. The incident caused no -shell-shock, and but little immediate excitement; so -I was soon asleep. All the others were in a -like case. The excitement came with the -morning when we examined the tents and the -ground. In the bell-tent there were ten -shrapnel bullet holes. One had gone through the -piece of wood on which the officers' clothing -had been hung, and must have passed immediately -over the body of the Baptist chaplain as -he lay in bed. Others must have passed equally -near the lieutenant who was not in bed, but, -standing up at the time, fully dressed. In my -own little tent I found eleven holes and they -were in all parts of the canvas. Some of the -bullets must have gone in at one side and out -at the other, for only five were found -embedded in the hard, chalky ground. A sixth -had passed through the box at the bed-head -and entered deeply into the book I had been -reading. Outside the kitchen, the servants -picked up a lump of shell a foot long and -three or four inches wide. Well was it for -them that the fragment fell outside the kitchen -and not inside. The ground around the tents -was sprinkled with shrapnel bullets and bits of -shell. The shells which fell near the horses -had burst on touching the ground, and not like -ours, in the air. They had dug deep holes in -the earth, and as the horses were within a few -yards of them, it seemed miraculous that none -was hurt. The transport had just returned -from taking up the rations, and, as one of the -drivers leapt off his horse, a bullet hit the -saddle where his leg had been a second before. -Not a man or horse received a scratch, although -the shells had made a direct hit on our camp. -On other occasions one shell has laid out scores -of men and horses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They say that sailors don't like padres on -board ship, because they think the latter bring -them bad luck. And most people are a little -afraid of the figure thirteen, but though it was -the thirteenth of June and there were two -padres in the tents, we had the best of what -is called "luck." So I think we may say it was -one up for the padres. After breakfast we -gathered together some of the fragments lying -around the tents, and found the nose-cap of a -shell which had burst seventy yards away. -With these, and the time-fuse which hit my -servant, the other chaplain and I went to a -battery and asked the officers to tell us -something about the gun, just as one might take a -bone of some extinct creature to a scientist, -and ask him to draw an outline of the whole -animal. They told us that the gun was a -long-range, high-velocity, naval gun with a possible -range of fifteen miles. They knew where it -was, but could not hit it. The shot was a -large high-explosive, shrapnel shell, and the -time-fuse indicated that it had come to us from -about eleven miles away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On our return we built ourselves dug-outs -for the nights, and only lived in the tents by -day. Sometimes we were shelled in the -day-time, but by taking cover took no hurt, though -a lad in the transport next to us was -seriously wounded. When they were shelling us -by day, we could distinctly hear the report -of the gun, a second or two later, see the shell -burst in the air; and a second later still, we -could hear it. We saw the burst before we -heard it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have given this personal incident not, I -hope, out of any impulse of egotism, but -because it furnishes those who have not been at -the Front with an idea of the terror which -assails our men by night, both in the trenches -and in the "back areas." There can be but -few who, having been any length of time at -the Front, have not had similar experiences -and equally narrow escapes. They are so -common that men get used to them and do not -take nearly enough care to protect themselves. -Loss by such stray shells is expected, and the -soldiers regard it much as a tradesman regards -the deterioration of his stock. One gets used -to the frequent occurrence of death as he does -to anything else. At home there are thousands -of preventable deaths--deaths through street -accidents, diseases and underfeeding. The -number could be enormously reduced if the -nation would rouse itself. And human nature -is much the same at the Front. Men prefer -ease and comfort to safety. Also, men grow -fatalistic. They have seen men sought out by -shells after they have taken every precaution -to escape them; and they have seen others go -untouched when they seemed to be inviting -shells to destroy them. Men are conscious of -a Power that is not themselves directing their -lives. They feel that in life which the Greek -tragedians called Fate. They do not know -quite what to call it. Most of them would call -it Providence if they spoke frankly and gave -it a name at all. One of the finest Christian -officers I know told me that he believed that -God's finger had already written what his fate -should be. If he had to die nothing could save -him, and if he had to live, nothing could kill -him. All he was concerned with was to be able -to do his duty, and take whatever God sent -him. This, he said, was the only suitable -working philosophy for a man at the Front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is a widespread fatalism at the Front, -but it is the fatalism of Christ rather than of -old Omar Khayyam: "Take no thought for -your life ... for your heavenly Father -knoweth that ye have need of all these things, but -seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his -righteousness. Take therefore no thought for -the morrow; for the morrow shall take thought -for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day -is the evil thereof." And this works. It -enables men to "put a cheerful courage on" -and do their duty. There is none of the -paralysis of will and cessation of effort which -follows the fatalistic philosophy of the East. -All that Omar Khayyam's fatalism leaves a -man to strive after is "Red, Red Wine," in -which he drowns memory, honor and reputation -and character. When he has passed from -among his peers, there is nothing left to -remember him by but a "turned-down empty -glass." The Christian fatalism at the Front -destroys no man's initiative, but keeps him -merry and bright, and helps him to "do his -bit." When he shall pass from the -banqueting-house of life, into the Great Unexplored, -he will leave as his memorial, not a turned-down -glass, but a world redeemed from tyranny -and wrong.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="eton-boys-never-duck"><span class="bold large">X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">"ETON BOYS NEVER DUCK!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>An army is more courageous than the -individuals who compose it. The coward -finds sufficient courage for his job -while doing it with his regiment, and the brave -is at his bravest. He has a courage which is -not his own but which, somehow, he puts on -with his uniform. He does deeds of daring -he could not have done as a civilian. The -army has a corporate courage and each soldier -receives a portion of it just as he receives a -ration of the army's food. It is added to what -he has of his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The badge of the army is courage. When -a recruit joins the army he knows that he is -putting away the civilian standard of courage -with his derby hat, and is putting on the -soldier's standard of courage with his uniform. -His great fear is that he will not be able to -live up to it. He wonders if he is made of -the stuff that produces heroes. He is a mystery -to himself and has a haunting fear that there -may be a strain of the coward in his make-up. -He wishes it were possible to have a rehearsal -for he would rather die than fail on the -appointed day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chaplain fears that he will faint and -become a hindrance instead of a help when he -first sees blood and torn limbs in the dressing -station; and the recruit is afraid of being afraid -in the hour of battle and of bringing dishonor -and weakness upon his regiment. He will be -glad when the trial is over--when he knows -the stuff of which nature has made him. A -friend of mine told me one day that he was -walking over a heavily shelled field with a -young aristocrat of a highly strung -temperament. The man was afraid, but would not -yield to his fear. His lips twitched and his -face became drawn and white. His movements -were jerky but he made no other sign. He -talked about paltry things in which, at the -moment, he had not the slightest interest, and -passed jocular or sardonic remarks about the -things that were happening around them. My -friend ducked his head when a shell burst near -as we all have done often enough, but the -young aristocrat kept his head as high and stiff -as if he were being crowned. He held it up -defiantly; was it not filled with the bluest -blood of England? The shells might blow it -off if they liked. That was their concern, not -his, but they should never make him bow. His -fathers had fought on British battlefields for -centuries, and had never bowed their heads to -a foe, and he would not break the great -tradition. Shells might break his neck but they -should never bend it. He would face the -enemy with as stiff an upper-lip and as stiff a -neck as ever his fathers did. He knew his -personal weakness and reinforced his strength -with that of his fathers'. He was not afraid -of death. He was afraid of being afraid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My friend was a coachman's son who by -courage and capacity of the highest order had -won a commission. He had no traditions -either to haunt or help him, and he had often -been tried in the fire and knew his strength. He -was not afraid of being afraid. It was natural -to duck when a shell burst near and it did -him no harm and made no difference to the -performance of his duties; so he ducked as he -felt inclined, and then laughed at his nerves -for the tricks they were allowing the shells to -play on them. But, knowing his companion's -more sensitive nature and temperamental -weakness, he was immensely impressed by his stiff -neck and proudly erect head. He showed a -self-control which only centuries of breeding -could give. Here was a hero indeed. The -shells he was defying were as nothing to the -fears which haunted his imaginative nature and -which, with his back to the wall of his family -traditions, he was fighting and keeping at bay. -My friend could not refrain from complimenting -him on resisting the natural tendency -to duck the head when a shell screamed above -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eton boys never duck," replied the young -aristocrat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was an Eton boy and would die rather -than fall short of the Eton standard. In this -war hundreds of them have died rather than -save themselves by something which did not -measure up to the Eton standard. The ranks -of young British aristocrats have been terribly -thinned in this war and I have heard their -deeds spoken of with a reverence such as is -only given to legendary heroes. They have -gone sauntering over the crater-fields to their -deaths with the same self-mastery and outward -calm which the French aristocracy manifested -as they mounted the steps of the guillotine in -the Reign of Terror. To their own personal -courage was added the courage of their race, -and the accumulation of the centuries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We speak of our new armies. There can be -no "new" armies of Britons. The tradition -of our newest army goes back to Boadicea. -Its forerunners, without shields or armor, and -almost without weapons, dared the Romans--the -proud conquerors of the world--to battle; -and gave them the longest odds warriors ever -gave. They knew they could not win but they -knew they could die. Dead warriors they -might become but never living slaves. They -ran up Boadicea's proud banner because they -knew that while the Romans might soak it in -British blood, no power on earth could drag -it through the mire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our forefathers crossed swords with Cæsar -and his Roman legions, and our newest army -goes into battle with the prestige born of two -thousand years of war. They have a morale -that belongs to the race in addition to the -morale they possess as individuals. It is said -that "the British do not know when they are -beaten." How should they know? They have -had no teachers. All they know is that if they -have not gained the victory the battle is not -ended and must go on until they pitch their -tents on the undisputed field. The German -Emperor spreads out his War Map but it -is as undecipherable as the mountains in the -moon to our soldiers. Tyrants have never -found them apt scholars at geography. They -prefer to make their own maps even though -they have no paint to color them with except -the red blood in their veins. The Kaiser may -roll up his War Map of Europe; our soldiers -have no use for it, and will not commit to -memory its new boundaries. They feel in their -souls the capacity to make a new one more in -line with their ideas of fair play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eton boys never duck." If the muscles of -their necks show a tendency to relax they call -to mind how inflexible their fathers have stood -in bygone days, and their necks become stiff -and taut once more. Wellington said that -Waterloo was won on the playing fields of -Eton. It is still true that "Eton boys never -duck" to the foe; nor do the soldiers they lead.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="missing"><span class="bold large">XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">"MISSING"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The word "Missing" has come to exercise -an even more terrible power over -the human heart than the word "Death." The -latter kills the heart's joy and hope with -a sharp clean cut, but "Missing" is a clumsy -stroke from the executioner's axe. In a few -cases the wounded victim is spared and allowed -to recover, but in the majority of cases there -is no reprieve and a second blow is struck after -a period of suspense and suffering. A chaplain -dreads the word. As he opens his -correspondence after a battle, it fixes him as the -glittering eye of the Ancient Mariner fastened -the wedding guest. It leaps from the page -at him with the malignant suddenness of a -serpent. Wounds and death he can explain to -relatives, but "missing" is beyond explanation. -No one who has not been at the Front can -conceive how a lad can disappear and no one -see what becomes him. A man may read -graphic accounts of conditions of life in the -battle-line, but it is beyond his imagination to -visualize it with any real approach to truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the first day of the Somme Campaign -we had hundreds of casualties and most of -them were classed as "Missing." The soldiers -went "over the top" and did not return, and -no one knew why. They were simply -"missing." Why did no one know their fate? It -came about in this way. The men scrambled -over the parapet and, forming in line, charged -across No Man's Land in extended order. -Some fell immediately. The wounded among -them got back to the dressing station, and the -bodies of the dead were found within a few -days, at least. So far, there are no "Missing." The -rest of the men press on, some falling -at every step; the line thins, and the men get -separated. When a man falls his neighbor -cannot stay with him. He must press on to the -objective, otherwise, if the unwounded stayed -to succor the wounded, there would be none -to continue the attack; and under the hail of -shells and bullets sweeping the open ground, -everyone would perish. The only way to -succor the wounded is to press on, capture the -enemy trench, and stop the rifle and machine-gun -fire. Consequently, the man who presses -on does not, as a rule, know whether his -comrade fell dead, was wounded, or merely took -cover in a shell hole. And even though he -were to know, he may be killed himself later, -and his knowledge die with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If the attack succeeds, and the German trench -is held by us, No Man's Land can be -searched. The wounded and dead are found, -and but few are reported "missing." But if -the attack fail, and the regiment has to retire -to its own line, it becomes impossible for us -to search that part of No Man's Land, adjoining -the German trench (for there is rarely -any truce after a battle in this war), and so, -it is impossible to find out whether those who -have failed to return were killed, wounded, or -taken prisoners. The comrades who saw them -fall are probably killed, for the return is as -fatal as the attack. If they come back wounded -they are taken straight to the hospitals and so -have no chance of reporting to their officers -the fate of those whom they saw fall. Only -the unwounded return to the regiment and, in -a lost battle, these are few and know but little -of what happened to those around them. They -were excited and were fighting for their lives. -They had no leisure to observe the fate of -others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On one occasion our men took some German -trenches opposite them and held them for -some hours by desperate fighting, but before -dusk had to retire. Many were left dead or -wounded in the captured trenches, and many -fell on the return journey. The few who got -back to us unwounded could give very little -information about individuals who were -missing. They had been separated one from -another and fighting hour after hour with -desperation. All therefore who did not return -to the regiment or dressing station, and whose -bodies were not recovered, were reported as -"Missing" unless declared dead by reliable -eye-witnesses. The evidence of eye-witnesses -must be carefully examined before a regiment -dare report a soldier dead on the strength of -it. During an attack a man is in an abnormal -state of excitement and the observations of -his senses are not entirely reliable. Men -imagine they see things, and frequently make -mistakes in identity. I have known many cases -in which a man has sworn that he saw another -being carried to the dressing station, yet the -missing man's body has afterwards been found -near the German lines. The eye-witness -simply mistook one man for another. No end -of pain to relatives has been caused by these -mistakes and a regiment rightly declines on -such evidence to report a soldier as killed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some weeks after the attack just referred to, -we received letters from some of the officers -and men who had been taken prisoners; -information about others came through The -Geneva Red Cross Society. Those of whom -we heard nothing for six months we knew to -be, in all probability, dead. Nine months later, -the Germans retired from the position, and -many of our dead were found still lying out -in No Man's Land. Some were identified. -Others could not be, their discs having -perished by reason of the long exposure. Many -of the dead had been left in the German -trenches. These had been buried by the enemy -and he had left no crosses to mark the graves. -After more than a year there is no direct -evidence of the death of many who fought -on that day. They are "Missing," and we can -only conclude that they were killed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In other cases, men are reported missing for -several weeks, and then reported dead. A -typical case may be cited to show how it comes -about. We attacked one morning at dawn. -The enemy were on the run, and in a state of -exhaustion. An immediate attack would, it -was believed, carry the position without much -loss of life, even though our big guns had not -had time to come up in support. Unfortunately -the Germans were, unknown to us, reinforced -during the night. Their new troops met our -men with a hail of rifle and machine-gun fire, -and the regiment was ordered to retire. -Several failed to return. We knew that some -of the men had been forced to surrender, -especially the wounded. Others had been -killed. Those who returned unwounded were -not able, however, to give us the names of -those who had been killed or of those who had -been taken prisoners. The attack had been -made in the half-light of dawn so that our men -could not be seen distinctly. They had also -advanced in extended order so as to avoid -making themselves an easy target. The -half-light and the distance of one man from another -made it difficult, therefore, for anyone to see -either who fell or why they fell. Most of -those who were killed or taken prisoners were -therefore reported as "missing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days later the whole Division was -moved to another part of the Front. A fresh -regiment took our place, and, a few weeks -later, with adequate artillery support, carried -the German trenches. After the battle, burial -parties were sent out by the regiment to bury -both its own dead and ours who had been left -in the German half of No Man's Land. -Each grave was marked with the soldier's -name, and his disc and paybook were sent to -our regiment as proof of his death. The War -Office was then informed that such and such a -man "previously reported missing, is now -reported killed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There are, however, cases of missing men -which cannot be explained. The facts never -come to light, and we can only guess what -happened. They may have been buried by the -enemy, or they may have been buried in the -dark by some regimental burial party which -could not find their discs. They may even have -been buried by a shell or blown to fragments -by a direct hit. We have no evidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the attack on Gommécourt a youth I -knew had his wound dressed at the Regimental -Aid post and was seen, by more than one of -his chums, passing down the communication -trench to the Advanced Dressing Station where -I happened to be. Yet he never arrived, slight -though his wound was. It was impossible for -him to have got lost. His brother and I made -every possible enquiry about him, but nothing -ever came to light, and we both came to the -conclusion that on his way down the trench -he had been buried by a shell. In another -case an officer was wounded and four stretcher -bearers went out to bring him in. None were -ever seen again, and later, when we came into -possession of the ground, the body of none -of them were found. It was scarcely possible -for them to have been taken prisoners, and -they were never reported as having been -captured. We concluded, therefore, that a shell -had both killed and buried them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day a rifleman reported sick to the -Doctor and was sent down the line to the -Dressing Station whence he would be sent on -to a Rest Camp. He was not seriously ill, -and needed no escort. It was impossible for -him to have wandered into the German lines, -yet he never reported at the Dressing Station -or anywhere else. Loss of memory is very -rare, but even if that had happened to him, -he could not have wandered about behind our -lines without being found and arrested. No -report of his burial ever reached us and we -were led to the conclusion that he was killed -by a shell on the way down, and in such a way -that all means of identification were lost. In -another case a private, wounded in the arm, -was sent down the line in company with a -party of stretcher bearers who were carrying -a "lying case." Evidently he got separated -from them in the dark, and was hit by a shell, -for he never reached any dressing station, and -his fate was never known.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Conditions at the front are such that these -mysterious disappearances must inevitably -occur. Every possible arrangement which -circumstances will allow is made to prevent them; -but they cannot be altogether eliminated. -People at home may sometimes think that more -might have been done, but it is because they -have no conception of the amazing conditions -under which the war is carried on. Every -officer and private knows that he may -disappear without leaving a trace. That being so, -they, if only from common prudence and the -instinct of self-preservation, combine to reduce -the danger to its lowest limits; but, when all -has been done, war is war; and nothing can -rob it of its horrors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every day, officers and men die in trying to -save their comrades, and nothing could be more -unjust than to blame those who survive for -not having done more to prevent others from -being lost; for those who are surviving, to-day, -may become missing to-morrow, and leave no -trace behind. Officers have sometimes shown -me letters from poor distracted relatives which -could never have been written if they could -have imagined the deadly peril in which the -officers stood and the manifold distractions -that wore them down. Sometimes an officer's -letter is short and business-like in reply to an -enquiry, but it must be remembered that his -first duty is to the living. He must hold the -line and save his men; and he has, despite the -tragedy of his position, to answer not one -enquiry but scores. And before he has finished -answering all the enquiries, his own parents, -perhaps, will be making enquiries about his -own fate. Our officers are the bravest and -kindest-hearted men that ever had the lives of -others in their keeping; and when the chaplain -asks them for details about any missing or slain -soldier, they will go to endless trouble for him. -They know what their own death will mean -to their parents; and the knowledge makes their -hearts go out in sympathy to the parents of -their men, and it makes them do all that is -possible to prevent lives being lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Moses died no man knew the place -of his burial. It has not been found to this -day. We know nothing of his last thoughts -or of the manner of his death. His end is a -perfect mystery. But we know that he died in -the presence of God; that God strengthened -him in the dread hour; and that with His own -fingers He closed the lids over the prophet's -brave, tender eyes. God buried Moses in a -grave dug by His own hands and He will know -where to find the poor worn-out body of the -great patriot at the resurrection of the just. -And God was with every one of our missing -lads to the last, and He knows the narrow bed -in which each lies sleeping. The grave may -have no cross above it, but it will often know -the tread of an angel's feet as he comes to -plant poppies, primroses and daffodils above -the resting-place of the brave.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="it-must-be-sunday"><span class="bold large">XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">"IT MUST BE SUNDAY"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Psalmist of Israel tells us that God -has "ordained" the moon and the stars. -These "flaming fires" are "ministers of -His that do His pleasure." Nor are they -the only ones chosen from Nature. Mungo -Park, having laid down in the desert to die, -notices beside him a tiny flower, and it awakens -hope in him. The winter of his despair is -ended. He rises again, and pushes on until -he finds a human habitation where he is cared -for by native women as though he were their -brother. The little flower had been "ordained" -to minister hope to a lost and despairing traveler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the Front such ministering by Nature is -of common occurrence. No Man's Land is -desolate enough to look upon, but there is life -there, and music. Larks have chosen it for -their nests, and amid its desolation they rear -their young. Even the pheasants have taken -to some parts of it. If we could but know -the thoughts of the wounded who have lain -out there waiting for death, we should find -that the moon and the stars, the birds and the -field mice, had not allowed them die without -some comforting of the spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One Sunday our regiment was resting in -reserve trenches after a period in the firing line. -It was a beautiful evening, and as the sun -sank westward I administered the Sacrament -of the Lord's Supper. The day was far spent -but, as the bread was broken, there came to -us a vision of the Face which the two disciples -saw on another such evening in the far-off -village of Emmaus. On the way back to my -billet I met a platoon of Royal Engineers -returning from the baths. One of them had -been a member of my church in London, and -he dropped out to talk with me. Those who -have not been in the Expeditionary Force can -hardly understand the pleasure a man feels -when he meets someone he knew in the days of -peace, or even someone who knows the street -or town out of which he came. He was full -of talk, and as I listened his excitement and -pleasure bubbled over like a spring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Last night," he said, "was the night of -my life. I never expected to see daylight -again. Talk about a 'tight corner,' there was -never one to match it, and as you know, my -chums and I have been in many. The Huns -simply plastered us with shells. The -bombardment was terrific. It was like being in a -hailstorm and we expected every moment to be -our last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know the trench which the infantry -took yesterday? Well, we were there. We -went up at dark to fix barbed wire in front of -it ready for the counter-attack. We were out -in No Man's Land for about two hours, -working as swiftly and silently as we could. -Whenever the enemy sent his lights up, we laid down, -and so far we had escaped notice and were -congratulating ourselves that the work was -nearly done, and that our skins were still -whole. Then, somehow, the Germans spotted -us, and let fly. It was like hell let loose. We -ran to the trench for shelter, but it seemed as -if nothing could save us from such a deluge -of shells. It was just like being naked in a -driving snow-storm. We felt as if there was -no trench at all, and as if the gunners could -see us in the dark. After that experience I -can pity a hare with a pack of hounds after -it. But we just sat tight with such cover as -we had and made the best of it. There was -nothing else to do. If we were to be killed, -we should be killed. Nothing that we could -do would have made any difference. Yet, -though there didn't seem shelter for even a -mouse, only one of us was hit, and that was -the sergeant. He was rather badly 'done in,' -and we could only save his life by getting him -quickly to the dressing station.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 92%" id="figure-30"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE WAS RATHER BADLY DONE IN" Drawn by F. Matahia for The Sphere, London" src="images/img-144.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE WAS RATHER BADLY DONE IN" -<br /></span><em class="italics">Drawn by F. Matahia for The Sphere, London</em></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am one of the taller and stronger men -of my platoon so, of course, I volunteered as -a stretcher-bearer. There was no communication -trench, so we had no choice but to lift -him up and make a dash across the open. -They were shelling us like blazes, but we dare -not delay because, if we were overtaken by -daylight, it would be impossible to get him -away till the next night, and by that time he -would be dead. So we decided to try our luck. -We had just lifted him up when a shell burst -right on top of us, and knocked us all down. -For a minute or two I was unconscious, and -when I came round I thought I must surely -be wounded, so I ran my fingers over my body -but found neither blood nor a rent in my -clothes. I was covered with chalk but that -didn't matter. Except for a touch of -concussion in the brain I was none the worse, and -soon pulled myself together. The sergeant -was a sight! He was half-buried, and we -could scarce see him for chalk; but we dug -him out and got him on the stretcher again. -After that we sat down in the bottom of the -trench till the effect of the shock had worn -off a bit, for we all felt like rats that had been -shaken by a terrier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, as suddenly as it had started, the -shelling stopped. The calm that followed was -wonderful. I never felt anything so restful -before. It was like the delicious restfulness that, -sometimes, immediately follows hours of fever. -Then, as if to make it perfect, a lark rose out -of No Man's Land and began to sing. The -effect on us was magical. It was the sweetest -music I have ever heard, and I shall remember -it to my dying day. The countryside was dark -and silent, and, as I listened to the lark, old -days came back to mind. You remember that -Saturday midnight in the June before the war -when you took us into Epping Forest to see -the dawn break over it? Well, as I listened -to the lark, I was back there in the forest. -Then some impulse seized me and, hardly -knowing what I did, I cried aloud, 'Why bless -me, it must be Sunday,' and so it was, although -I had forgotten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we jumped up for we saw that the -dawn was breaking and, lifting the sergeant -out of the trench, we rushed across the open -ground in the direction of the dressing station. -Talk about 'feeling protected!' Why, I felt -that God was all around us--that no harm -could touch us. A great calm stole over me, -and I felt utterly devoid of fear. We had, -as you know, to bring the sergeant some two -miles to the dressing station, just down the -road there, but we got him safely in, and I -think he will get better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While we were talking, a shell burst near -the trench where my men had been taking of -the Sacrament, and another burst by the -roadside close to the Engineers. With a laugh -and a hearty "Good-night" he shook hands, -saluted, and ran on to rejoin his comrades. -The shells were part of the game. In London -we had been in the same football team. He -had kept goal and I had played full back, and -he regarded the shells that had fallen as bad -shots at goal made by the opposing team. -They might have been serious but, as it -happened, the ball had each time gone out of play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I waited a minute or two in the hope of -getting a lift. A motor car came along; I -stopped it and got in; for at the Front -everything is Government property and more or -less at one's service. I found myself sitting -by the side of a private, who had been wounded -in the face and right hand by the shell that -had just fallen near the platoon of Engineers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had left his horse with a comrade, and -was being driven to the Advanced Dressing -Station by a driver who, happening to pass at -the moment, had kindly offered him a lift. -After a little wait at the Dressing Station I -got on the front of an ambulance car. There -were only two cases inside, and they were being -taken to the Main Dressing Station in Arras. -One of them had his feet and arms tied to -the stretcher, for he was suffering from -shell-shock; and three orderlies were in charge of -him. The poor fellow laughed and cried -alternately and struggled to break loose. "I'm -a British soldier," he cried, "and I will not -be tied up. I've done my bit, and this is the -way you pay me out. I'll not have it." And -time and again he struggled desperately to -break away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The orderlies in charge of him were wise and -tactful as women. They asked him questions -about the fight, and he fought his battle over -again. They praised his regiment and told him -it had done magnificently, and he laughed and -chuckled like a young mother, dandling her -first baby on her knee. And so, without -mishap, we reached the ruined town of Arras -where nightly the shells fall among the forsaken -houses in which our soldiers are billeted. -The wounded private was carried into the -hospital, and I walked away to my room in an -adjoining street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So ended the day which, in the hour of -dawn, the dark had told the young engineer -"must be Sunday."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="our-tommies-never-fail-us"><span class="bold large">XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">OUR TOMMIES NEVER FAIL US</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On Easter Monday, in the Battle of -Arras, I saw two sights such as I shall -never forget. One revealed the kind -and forgiving spirit of our men, the other their -unflinching courage. After burying three -non-commissioned officers who had been killed the -day before, I reached the Advanced Dressing -Station near which our regiment was "standing -to" in a support trench. Other regiments of -our Division were carrying out the attack and, -with small loss, had taken the enemy lines. -The German trenches had been blotted out by -our shells but their deep dug-outs, with -machine-guns at their mouths, remained -untouched, and it was almost impossible for our -soldiers to discover them until they got within -a few yards of the entrances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The German commander's idea was to keep -his men in the shelter of the dug-outs until -our barrage lifted. They were then to rush -out with machine-guns and rifles to destroy our -men who were following it up. If the idea -had been carried out, the German line would -have been impregnable for our men would -have been mown down like corn before the -reaper. It failed because German human -nature could not rise to the occasion. The -German soldiers had been demoralized by the -safety of the dug-outs and by the thunder of -our shells above them. They cowered in the -dug-outs when they should have rushed out. -The critical moment passed, and with its -passing our soldiers leapt to the entrances and -threw down hand grenades. There was a wild -cry of pain and fear from below. Arms went -up and the cry of "Kamerad." The surrender -was accepted and the beaten soldiers -crawled out. From some dug-outs as many as -two hundred prisoners were taken. In other -parts of the line there was a stiff fight, but, on -the whole, our casualties were very light. -From my own observation I should say that -we took more prisoners than we suffered -casualties. Some companies could boast a prisoner -for each man engaged in the attack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Advanced Dressing Station was at the -corner of Cross Roads and the sight around -it was wonderful to behold. A crowd of -prisoners was assembling ready to be marched -to the cages, and wounded officers and men, -British and German, were being bandaged. -The prisoners were hungry. For some days -our artillery had cut off their rations. A -platoon of our soldiers came marching by, and, -to save time, eating their breakfasts as they -passed along. The prisoners looked at them -with hungry eyes. Our men saw the look and -stopped. Breaking rank for a moment they -passed in and out among the prisoners and -shared out their rations. "Here, Fritzy, old -boy, take this," I heard all around me, and -Fritz did not need asking twice. He took the -biscuits and cheese gratefully and eagerly. -The look of trouble passed out of his eyes and -he felt that he had found friends where he -had only expected to find enemies. He began -to hope for kindness in his captivity. The -scene was one of pure goodwill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarcely ever have I seen a crowd so happy. -Our Tommies laughed and cracked jokes which -no German could understand, but I heard not -a single taunt or bitter word. In fact, Fritz -was treated more like a pet than a prisoner. -One who had worked in London, and who -spoke English, asked me for a cup of tea for -a comrade who was slightly wounded, and I -got one in the dressing station. The platoon -of Tommies re-formed and marched away to -the battle and the prisoners were led off to -the cages. There were still large numbers of -prisoners on the road, and they were moving -about without guards. Many of them were -being used as stretcher-bearers and they seemed -to do their work out of goodwill and not of -constraint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their assistance was of great help to the -wounded. The battle was going well with us. -Everyone felt in good heart and kindly -disposed. An officer who lay seriously wounded -and waiting for a car told me of the splendid -work which his regiment had done. His eyes -shone with suppressed excitement and pride as -he told the story. While he was speaking two -soldiers came limping down the road and their -appearance was greeted with a burst of -laughter. One was English, the other German. -Tommy had his arm round the German's neck -and was leaning on him while Fritz, with his -arm round the lad's waist, helped him along. -They came along very slowly for both were -wounded, but they laughed and talked together -like long-lost brothers. Yet neither could -understand a word the other said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I passed down the road towards the line. -Gunners of the Territorials were hurriedly -hitching their guns to the horses ready to -advance to new positions. In the ruined village -a party of engineers was already unloading a -wagon of rails with which to build a light -railway. I continued along the road towards the -next village. It had just fallen into our hands -and not one stone was left on another. There -were scores of wounded men hobbling back -from it and I gave my arm to such as needed -it most. A badly wounded Tommy was being -brought along on a wheeler by two orderlies -and as I helped them through the traffic we -heard the heavy rumble of the advancing field-guns.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The road was cleared with the quickness of -lightning. Out of the village the batteries burst -at a mad gallop and down the road they came -at break-neck speed. With the swiftness of -a fire engine in a city street the rocking guns -swept past. The gunners clung to the -ammunition limbers with both hands and the -drivers whipped and spurred the excited -foam-flecked horses as though they were fiery beings -leaping through the air and incapable of fatigue -or weakness. Suddenly the drivers raised their -whips as a sign to those behind, and the -trembling horses and bounding guns came to a -dead halt. The leading gun had overturned at -a nasty place where the road dipped down into -the hollow. The rest of the batteries stood -exposed on the crest of the ridge. Before -retiring the Germans had felled all the trees that -grew by the roadside so that nothing might -obstruct their line of vision. Such a -catastrophe as this was what the enemy had been -hoping for. The sun shone brilliantly, and -our batteries were a direct target for the -German gunners such as seldom occurs. Our boys -were caught like rats in a trap. By the side -of the road ran a shallow trench and near us -two broad steps into it. We laid the wounded -lad in the bottom of the trench and sat down -by his side. Shells were falling all around and -fountains of dirt and debris rose into the air -and, on five or six occasions, covered us with -their spray.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I covered the lad's face. He was barely -conscious and uttered no word. It seemed as if -nothing could live in such a bombardment. A -shell burst near, and the cry of dying horses -rent the air. The traces were cut and the -horses and gun-carriage drawn off the road. -Every second I expected to see the horses and -drivers in front of me blown into the air and -I watched them with fascinated eyes. Not a -man stirred. They sat on their horses and -gun-carriages as though they were figures in bronze. -Not a man sought the trench and not a man -relieved the tension by going forward to see -what was wrong or to lend a hand. Each -knew his place, and if death sought him it -would know where to find him. The horses -felt that they had brave men on their backs -and, in that mysterious way peculiar to horses, -caught the spirit of their riders. Every shell -covered men and horses with chalk and soil, -but they remained an immobile as statuary. It -was magnificent and it was war. A driver in -the battery beside us got wounded in the leg -and hand. He jumped off his horse and came -to us to be bandaged. Then he leapt back into -the saddle. It seemed an age, but I suppose -it was only a few minutes, before the obstruction -was removed. The whips flashed in the -air and the horses sprang forward. The guns -rocked and swayed as they swept past us and -within a few minutes they were in their new -positions under the hill upon which lay the -ruins of Neuville Vitasse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shelling ceased as suddenly as it had -started and we lifted out our wounded soldier -and went in the direction of the dressing -station. Some distance up the road my attention -was called to one of the drivers whom the -artillery had left in the care of some privates. -He was living, but his skull was broken, and -he would never wake again to consciousness. -He was fast "going West." His day was over -and his work was done. I got him lifted on -to a stretcher and taken to the dressing station -so that he might die in peace and be buried -in the little soldiers' cemetery behind it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I returned in the evening to our billet -I told the transport officer of the magnificent -bravery of the artillery drivers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any other drivers would behave just as -well, if caught in the same trap," he replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke the simple truth. They would. -Such supreme courage and devotion to duty are -common to the army. Their presence among -all ranks and in all sections of the army makes -the fact the more wonderful. Both officers and -men love life, but they love duty more, and -commanders in drawing up their plans know -that they can rely on their soldiers to carry -them out. Our Tommies never fail us whether -in France, Mesopotamia, or Palestine. Devotion -to duty is inwoven with the fibers of their -hearts. They are men who, either in kindness -to captives or courage amid disaster and -destruction, never fail us.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-cross-at-neuve-chapelle"><span class="bold large">XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE CROSS AT NEUVE CHAPELLE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The war on the Western Front has been -fought in a Roman Catholic country -where crucifixes are erected at all the -chief cross-roads to remind us that, in every -moment of doubt as to the way of life, and -on whichever road we finally decide to walk, -whether rough or smooth, we shall need the -Saviour and His redeeming love. We have -seen a cross so often when on the march, or -when passing down some trench, that it has -become inextricably mixed up with the war. -When we think of the great struggle the vision -of the cross rises before us, and when we see -the cross, we think of processions of wounded -men who have been broken to save the world. -Whenever we have laid a martyred soldier to -rest, we have placed over him, as the comment -on his death, a simple white cross bearing his -name. We never paint any tribute on it. -None is needed, for nothing else could speak so -eloquently as a cross--a white cross. White -is the sacred color in the army of to-day, and -the cross is the sacred form. In after years -there will never be any doubt as to where the -line of liberty ran that held back the flood and -force of German tyranny. From the English -Channel to Switzerland it is marked for all -time with the crosses on the graves of the -British and French soldiers. Whatever may -be our views about the erection of crucifixes -by the wayside and at the cross-roads, no one -can deny that they have had an immense -influence for good on our men during the war -in France.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The experience of many a gallant soldier is -expressed in the following Belgian poem:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I came to a halt at the bend of the road;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I reached for my ration, and loosened my load;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I came to a halt at the bend of the road.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"O weary the way, Lord; forsaken of Thee,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My spirit is faint--lone, comfortless me;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O weary the way, Lord; forsaken of Thee.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And the Lord answered, Son, be thy heart lifted up,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I drank, as thou drinkest, of agony's cup;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the Lord answered, Son, be thy heart lifted up.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"For thee that I loved, I went down to the grave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Pay thou the like forfeit thy Country to save;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For thee that I loved, I went down to the grave.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Then I cried, 'I am Thine, Lord; yea, unto this last.'</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I strapped on my knapsack, and onward I passed.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then I cried, 'I am Thine, Lord; yea, unto this last.'</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Fulfilled is the sacrifice. Lord, is it well?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Be it said--for the dear sake of country he fell.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Fulfilled is the sacrifice. Lord, is it well?"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Cross has interpreted life to the soldier -and has provided him with the only acceptable -philosophy of the war. It has taught boys -just entering upon life's experience that, -out-topping all history and standing out against -the background of all human life, is a Cross -on which died the Son of God. It has made -the hill of Calvary stand out above all other -hills in history. Hannibal, Cæsar, Napoleon--these -may stand at the foot of the hill, as -did the Roman soldiers, but they are made to -look mean and insignificant as the Cross rises -above them, showing forth the figure of the Son -of Man. Against the sky-line of human history -the Cross stands clearly, and all else is in -shadow. The wayside crosses at the Front and -the flashes of roaring guns may not have taught -our soldiers much history, but they have taught -them the central fact of history; and all else -will have to accommodate itself to that, or -be disbelieved. The Cross of Christ is the -center of the picture for evermore, and the -grouping of all other figures must be round it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the soldiers it can never again be made a -detail in some other picture. Seen also in the -light of their personal experience it has taught -them that as a cross lies at the basis of the -world's life and shows bare at every crisis of -national and international life so, at the root -of all individual life, is a cross. They have -been taught to look for it at every parting of -the ways. Suffering to redeem others and make -others happy will now be seen as the true -aim of life and not the grasping of personal -pleasure or profit. They have stood where -high explosive shells thresh out the corn from -the chaff--the true from the false. They have -seen facts in a light that lays things stark -and bare; and the cant talked by skeptical -armchair-philosophers will move them as little -as the chittering of sparrows on the housetops. -For three long years our front-line trenches -have run through what was once a village -called Neuve Chapelle. There is nothing left -of it now. But there is something there which -is tremendously impressive. It is a crucifix. -It stands out above everything, for the land -is quite flat around it. The cross is immediately -behind our firing trench, and within two -or three hundred yards of the German front -trench. The figure of Christ is looking across -the waste of No Man's Land. Under His right -arm and under His left, are British soldiers -holding the line. Two dud shells lie at the -the foot. One is even touching the wood, -but though hundreds of shells must have swept -by it, and millions of machine-gun bullets, it -remains undamaged. Trenches form a labyrinth -all round it. When our men awake and -"stand-to" at dawn the first sight they see is -the cross; and when at night they lie down in -the side of the trench, or turn into their -dug-outs, their last sight is the cross. It stands -clear in the noon-day sun; and in the moonlight -it takes on a solemn grandeur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I first saw it on a November afternoon when -the sun was sinking under heavy banks of -cloud, and it bent my mind back to the scene -as it must have been on the first Good Friday, -when the sun died with its dying Lord, and -darkness crept up the hill of Calvary and -covered Him with its funeral pall to hide His -dying agonies from the curious eyes of -unbelieving men. I had had tea in a dug-out, and -it was dark when I left. Machine-guns were -sweeping No Man's Land to brush back -enemies that might be creeping towards us through -the long grass; and the air was filled with a -million clear, cracking sounds. Star-shells rose -and fell and their brilliant lights lit up the -silent form on the cross.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For three years, night and day, Christ has -been standing there in the midst of our soldiers, -with arms outstretched in blessing. They -have looked up at Him through the clear -starlight of a frosty night; and they have seen -His pale face by the silver rays of the moon -as she has sailed her course through the -heavens. In the gloom of a stormy night they -have seen the dark outline, and caught a -passing glimpse of Christ's effigy by the flare -of the star-shells. What must have been the -thoughts of the sentries in the listening posts -as all night long they have gazed at the cross; -or of the officers as they have passed down -the trench to see that all was well; or of some -private sleeping in the trench and, being -awakened by the cold, taking a few steps to -restore blood-circulation? Deep thoughts, I -imagine, much too deep for words of theirs -or mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when the Battle of Neuve Chapelle was -raging and the wounded, whose blood was -turning red the grass, looked up at Him, what -thoughts must have been theirs then? Did -they not feel that He was their big Brother -and remember that blood had flowed from -Him as from them; that pain had racked Him -as it racked them; and that He thought of -His mother and of Nazareth as they thought -of their mother and the little cottage they were -never to see again? When their throats -became parched and their lips swollen with thirst -did they not remember how He, too, had cried -for a drink; and, most of all, did they not -call to mind the fact that He might have saved -Himself, as they might, if He had cared more -for His own happiness than for the world's? -As their spirits passed out through the wounds -in their bodies would they not ask Him to -remember them as their now homeless souls -knocked at the gate of His Kingdom? He had -stood by them all through the long and bloody -battle while hurricanes of shells swept over -and around Him. I do not wonder that the -men at the Front flock to the Lord's Supper -to commemorate His death. They will not go -without it. If the Sacrament be not provided, -they ask for it. At home there was never such -a demand for it as exists at the Front. There -is a mystic sympathy between the trench and the -Cross, between the soldier and his Saviour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet, to those who willed the war and -drank to the day of its coming, even the Cross -has no sacredness. It is to them but a tool -of war. An officer told me that during the -German retreat from the Somme they noticed -a peculiar accuracy in the enemy's firing. The -shells followed an easily distinguishable course. -So many casualties occurred from this accurate -shelling that the officers set themselves to -discover the cause. They found that the circle -of shells had for its center the cross-roads, and -that at the cross-roads was a crucifix that stood -up clearly as a land-mark. Evidently the -crosses were being used to guide the gunners, -and was causing the death of our men. But -a more remarkable thing came to light. The -cross stood close to the road, and when the -Germans retired they had sprung a mine at the -cross-roads to delay our advance. Everything -near had been blown to bits by the explosion -except the crucifix which had not a mark upon it. -And yet it could not have escaped, except by -a miracle. They therefore set themselves to -examine the seeming miracle and came across -one of the most astounding cases of fiendish -cunning. They found that the Germans had -made a concrete socket for the crucifix so that -they could take it out or put it in at pleasure. -Before blowing up the cross-roads they had -taken the cross out of its socket and removed -it to a safe distance, then, when the mine had -exploded, they put the cross back so that it -might be a landmark to direct their shooting. -And now they were using Christ's instrument -of redemption as an instrument for men's destruction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But our young officers resolved to restore -the cross to its work of saving men. They -waited till night fell, and then removed the cross -to a point a hundred or two yards to the left. -When in the morning the German gunners -fired their shells their observers found that the -shells fell too far wide of the cross and they -could make nothing of the mystery. It looked -as if someone had been tampering with their -guns in the night. To put matters right they -altered the position of their guns so that once -more the shells made a circle round the cross. -And henceforth our soldiers were safe, for the -shells fell harmlessly into the outlying fields. -Nor was this the only time during their retreat -that the Germans put the cross to this base use -and were foiled in their knavery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When a nation scraps the Cross of Christ -and turns it into a tool to gain an advantage -over its opponents, it becomes superfluous to -ask who began the war, and folly to close our -eyes to the horrors and depravities which are -being reached in the waging of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is a new judgment of the nations now -proceeding and who shall predict what shall -be? The Cross of Christ is the arbiter, and -our attitude towards it decides our fate. I -have seen the attitude of our soldiers towards -the cross at Neuve Chapelle and towards -that for which it stands; and I find more -comfort in their reverence for Christ and -Christianity than in all their guns and impediments -of war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Cross of Christ towers above the wrecks -of time, and the nations will survive that stand -beneath its protecting arms in the trenches of -righteousness, liberty and truth.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-children-of-our-dead"><span class="bold large">XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE CHILDREN OF OUR DEAD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There are times when we get away from -the Front for a rest. We hear no -more the sound of the guns, but give -ourselves up to the silence and charm of the -country. Before going into the Somme -fighting we were billeted for ten days in the -neighboring village to Cressy; and as the anniversary -of the battle came that week the colonel chose -the day for a march to the battlefield. The -owner of the field, when the old windmill -stood, from which King Edward III directed -his army, came to meet us and describe the -battle. When the war is over he is going to -erect a monument on the spot to the memory -of the French and British troops who in comradeship -have died fighting against the common foe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were happy days that we spent around -Cressy. The last that some were destined to -know this side of the Great Divide. The -bedroom next to mine was occupied by two fine -young officers of utterly different type. One -was a Greek whose father had taken out -naturalization papers and loved the country of -his adoption with a worshiping passion that -would shame many native born. The other -was a charming, argumentative, systematic, -theological student of Scots parentage. The -night before we left, the Greek accidentally -broke his mirror and was much upset. It was, -he said, a token that Death was about to claim -him. The Scot laughed heartily, for he had -not a trace of the superstitious in him; or, if he -had--which was more than likely--it was kept -under by his strong reasoning faculties.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you are to be killed," he replied, "I am -to be killed too, for I also have broken my -mirror."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke the words in jest, or with hardly -a discernible undercurrent of seriousness; but -they were true words nevertheless. The two -bed-mates were killed in the same battle a week -or two later. I had tea with them in their -dug-out on the eve of the fight. They were -to take up their positions in an hour, but the -student could not resist having just one more -argument. He directed the conversation to the -New Theology, and to German philosophers -and Biblical scholars. He simply talked me -off my feet, for he possessed the most brilliant -intellect in the regiment, combined with -self-reliance and perfect modesty. Then the -conversation turned to the question of taking a tot -of rum before going over the parapet. He -was a rigid teetotaler, "for," said he, "drink -is the ruin of my country." He was opposed -to the idea of taking rum to help one's courage -or allay his fears. He would not, he said, go -under with his eyes bandaged. He would -take a good look at Death and dare him to -do his worst. He was superb, and Death never -felled a manlier man. Browning would have -loved him as his own soul for he had Browning's -attitude to life exactly, and could have -sung with him,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"Fear death? ...</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>I was ever a fighter, so--one fight more,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>The best and the last!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And bade me creep past.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>The heroes of old,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Of pain, darkness and cold.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>For sudden the worst turns best to the brave,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>The black minute's at end,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Shall dwindle, shall blend,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Then a light...</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And with God be the rest!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He was found with his "body against the -wall where the forts of folly fall." His brave, -intelligent face was completely blown away. -His Greek friend was wounded, and while -being dressed in a shell-hole by his servant, was -hit again and killed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some weeks later all that remained of the -regiment was drawn out to a little village some -miles from Amiens, and very similar to the -one we had occupied near Cressy. We were -taken to it in motor-'buses for the men were -too exhausted to march, and the days spent -there were days of great delight. We had a -glorious, crowded-out service on the Sunday. -It was both a thanksgiving and a memorial -service, and I spoke to the men on "The -Passing of the Angels."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When the music ceased," I said, "and the -herald-angels departed, the sky became very -empty, cold and gray to the Shepherds; and -they said one to another, 'let us now go even -unto Bethlehem.' And they went and found -out Jesus. If the angels had stayed the -shepherds would have stayed with them. The -angels had to come to point them to Jesus but, -that done, they had to go away to make the -shepherds desire Jesus and seek Him. 'When -the half-gods go the gods arrive.' The angels -had to make room for Jesus and the second -best had to yield place to the best. When John -the Baptist was killed his disciples went in their -sorrow to Jesus; and having lost our noble -comrades, we must go to Him also. The best -in our friends came from Jesus as the sweet -light of the moon comes from the sun; and we -must go to the Source. If we find and keep -to Jesus, sooner or later we shall find our lost -friends again, for 'them also which sleep in -Jesus will God bring with him!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In some such words I tried to comfort those -who had left their comrades behind in the -graves on the Somme; for I know how deeply -they felt the loss. During the week we had -dinner parties, and all kinds of jolly social -intercourse. It was amusing to see the delight -everyone felt at having a bed to sleep in. -"Look Padre, at these white sheets," an officer -cried as I passed his window. He was as -merry over them as if a rich maiden aunt had -remembered him in her will. Some got "leave" -home, and were so frankly joyful about it that -it made the rest of us both glad and envious. -We made up for it somewhat by getting leave -to spend an occasional day in Amiens. There -I went into the glorious cathedral. Almost the -whole of the front was sandbagged, but even -thus, it was a "thing of beauty" and has -become for me a "joy forever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Except Rouen Cathedral I have seen nothing -to equal it. Notre Dame, with its invisible -yet clinging tapestry of history, is more deeply -moving. But it is sadder--more sombre. -Something of the ugliness and tragedy of -by-gone days peep out in it; but Amiens Cathedral -is a thing of pure joy and beauty. It suggests -fairies, while Notre Dame suggests goblins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While I was looking at its glorious -rose-windows which were casting their rich colors -on the pillars, a father and his two children -came in. The man and son dipped their -fingers in the shell of holy water, crossed their -foreheads and breasts with the water, and were -passing on; but the little girl who was too -short to reach the shell, took hold of her -father's arm and pulled him back. She, too, -wished to dip her fingers in holy water, and -make the sign of the cross over her mind and -heart. The father yielded to her importunity -and touched her hand with his wet fingers. -She made the sacred sign and was satisfied. -The father and son had remembered their own -needs but forgotten the child's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After all the tragic happenings on the -Somme why should this little incident linger in -my memory like a primrose in a crater? Did -it not linger </span><em class="italics">because</em><span> of the tragedy of the -preceding weeks? I had been living weeks -together without seeing a child and after the -slaughter of youth which I had witnessed the -sight of a child in a cathedral was inexpressibly -beautiful. The father's neglect of its finer -needs gave me pain. We have lost so many -young men, that every child and youth left to -us ought to be cared for as the apple of our -eye. We have lost more than our young men. -We have lost those who would have been their -children. The little ones who might have been, -have gone to their graves with their fathers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old recruiting cry, "the young and single -first" was necessary from a military standpoint -but, from a merely human point of view, -I could never see much justice in it. The young -had no responsibility, direct or indirect, for the -war. They were given life and yet before -they could taste it, they were called upon to -die in our behalf. We who are older have -tasted of life and love; the residue of our years -will be much the same as those that have gone -before; there will be little of surprise or -newness of experience. Perhaps, too, we have -living memorials of ourselves, so that if we die, -our personality and name will still live on. -Our death will only be partial. While William -Pitt lived could it be said that Lord Chatham -had died? His body was dead, truly, but his -spirit found utterance in the British House of -Commons every time his son spoke, and -Napoleon felt the strength of his arm as truly -did Montcalm on the Heights of Abraham. I -should not have mourned the loss of the young -Scot and the Greek so much, had they left to -the world some image and likeness of -themselves. In dying, they gave more than -themselves to death;</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Those who would have been</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their sons they gave--their immortality."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After a summer on the Somme, I have come -to understand something of how fear of the -devouring maw of Time became almost an -obsession with Shakespeare. Death had taken -from him some of the dearest intimates of his -heart, and taken them young. And so, like the -sound of a funeral-bell echoing down the lane -where lovers walk, there is heard through all -his sonnets and poems of love the approaching -footsteps of death. Sometimes the footsteps -sound faintly, but they are seldom absent. -How then would he have felt in a war like -this, in which the "young and single" have gone -out by the hundred thousand to prematurely die?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Others, however, who have given their lives -were married men, and they have left images -of themselves in trust to the nation. We know -the last thoughts of a dying father. Captain -Falcon Scott as he lay dying at the South Pole -has expressed them for all time. "Take care -of the boy," he said, "there should be good -stuff in him." He found comfort in the -reflection that he would, though he died, live on -in his son; but he was saddened by the thought -that the son would have to face the battle of -life without a father to back him up. The -boy would therefore need special "care."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the evening of the first battle of the -Somme I spoke to a young officer as he lay in -a bed at the Field Ambulance. He had lost -his right arm and he told me how it had -happened. He was charging across No Man's -Land when a shell cut it off near the shoulder, -and flung it several yards away. As he saw -it fall to the ground the sight so overcame him -that he cried aloud in distress, "Oh my arm! -My beautiful arm." He was still mourning -its loss, so, to comfort him, I told him that -Nelson lost </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> right arm and won the Battle -of Trafalgar after he had lost it. Like -Nelson, I told him, he would learn to write with -his left hand and still do a man's job. He -would not be useless in life as he feared. -When the children of our dead soldiers charge -across No Man's Land in the battle of life -they will think of their lost fathers, and the -agonizing cry of the young wounded soldier -will rise to their lips, "Oh my arm, my -beautiful arm." The State is providing artificial -arms for our wounded soldiers. Will it be a -right arm to the children of its dead? Will -it be a father to the fatherless and a husband -to the widow? Unless it is ready for this -sacred task, it had no right to ask for and -accept the lives of these men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The State, with the help of the Church, must -resolve that no child shall suffer because its -father was a hero and patriot. The State must -help the child to the shell of holy water without -the little one having to pull at its arm to -remind it of its duties. If the children of our -dead soldiers lack education, food, moral and -spiritual guidance, or a proper start in life, -no words will be condemnatory enough to -adequately describe the nation's crime and -ingratitude. They are the sons and daughters -of heroes and there "should be good stuff" in -them. It is the nation's privilege, as well as -its duty, to take the place of their fathers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days later I walked into Arras from -the neighboring village. There were guns all -along the road, and there was not a house but -bore the mark of shells. Some of the civilians -had remained, but these were mostly old people -who could not settle elsewhere, and who -preferred to die at home rather than live in a -strange place. One house impressed me -greatly. It had been badly damaged but, its -garden was untouched and in it were half a -dozen rose-trees. It was the beginning of -spring, and each tree was covered over with -sacking to preserve it from the cold and -fragments of shells. The owner did not care -sufficiently for his own life to move away, but he -cared for the life of his roses. And so, when -the summer came there were roses in at least -one garden in Arras.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The noise of the guns was terrific and the -old man had to live in the cellar, but he found -leisure of soul to cultivate his roses. His action -was one of the most beautiful things I have -seen in the entire war. The children of our -homes are more beautiful than Arras roses, -and more difficult to rear. May we trust our -country not to neglect them? Will she save -them from the mark of the shell, and help -them to grow up to a full and perfect loveliness? -Our dying soldiers have trusted her to do it. -From their graves they plead,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"If ye break faith with us who die,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We shall not sleep, though poppies blow</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In Flanders fields."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-funeral-under-fire"><span class="bold large">XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A FUNERAL UNDER FIRE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was in a ruined village behind the -trenches. A fatigue party had just come -out of the line, and was on its way to -rest-billets in the next village. The men were -tired so they sat down to rest in the deserted -street. Suddenly, a scream, as from a -disembodied spirit, pierced the air. There was a -crash, a cloud of smoke, and five men lay -dead on the pavement, and twelve wounded. -Next morning I was asked to bury one of the -dead. Under a glorious July sky a Roman -Catholic chaplain and I cycled between desolate -fields into the village. A rifleman guided -us down a communication-trench till we came -to the cemetery. It was a little field fenced -with trees. There we found a Church of -England chaplain. He and the Catholic -chaplain had two men each to bury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A burial party was at work on the five graves. -It was the fatigue party of the evening before, -and the men were preparing the last resting -place of those who had died at their side. -They worked rapidly, for all the morning the -village had been under a bombardment which -had not as yet ceased. Before they had -finished they were startled by the familiar but -fatal scream of a shell and threw themselves -on the ground. It burst a short distance away -without doing harm, and the soldiers went on -with their work, as if nothing had happened. -When the graves were ready, two of the bodies -were brought out and lowered with ropes. -The Church of England chaplain read the -burial service over them, and we all stood round -as mourners. Two more bodies were brought -out and we formed a circle round them while -the Roman Catholic chaplain read the burial -service of his Church--chiefly, in Latin. There -now remained but one, and he, in turn, was -quietly lowered into his grave. He was still -wearing his boots and uniform and was wrapped -around with his blanket.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"No useless coffin enclosed his breast,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he lay like a warrior taking his rest</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With his martial cloak around him."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>All his comrades who had been with him in -the dread hour of death were mourning by his -grave, and standing with them were his officer -and two chaplains. I read the full service as -it is given in our Prayer Book. It was all -that one could do for him. The Catholic -chaplain had sprinkled consecrated water on the -bodies and I sprinkled consecrated soil. Was -it not in truth holy soil? Behind me was one -long, common grave in which lay buried a -hundred and ten French soldiers; "110 Braves" -was the inscription the cross bore. In front of -me were three rows of graves in which were -lying British soldiers. French and British -soldiers were mingling their dust. In death, as in -life, they were not divided.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt led to offer no prayer for the lad at -my feet, nor for his dead comrades. He needed -no prayer of mine; rather did I need his. He -was safe home in port. The storm had spent -itself and neither rock, nor fog, nor fire would -trouble him again. His living comrades and -I were still out in the storm, battling towards -the land. He had no need of us, but his parents -and comrades had need of him. We were -there to pay a tribute to his life and death, to -pray for his loved ones, and to learn how frail -we are and how dependent upon Him who is -beyond the reach of the chances and changes -of this mortal life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was half way through the recital of the -last prayer--"We bless Thy Holy Name for -all Thy servants departed this life in Thy -faith and fear"--when that fatal, well-known -scream, as of a vulture darting down on its -prey, again tore the air. The men, as they -had been taught, dropped to the ground like -stones. My office demanded that I should -continue the prayer, and leave with God the -decision as to how it should end. There was a -crash, and the branches of the trees overhead -trembled as some fragments of shell smote -them. But there was nothing more. The men -rose as quickly as they had fallen, and all were -reverently standing to attention before the last -words of the prayer found utterance. The -graves were filled in and we went our several -ways. Next day white crosses were placed -over the five mounds, and we bade them a long -and last farewell.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-soldier-s-calvary"><span class="bold large">XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A SOLDIER'S CALVARY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There is one afternoon on the Somme -that stands out in my memory like a -dark hill when the sun has sunk below -the verge and left a lingering bar of red across -the sky. It was a Calvary thick with the bodies -of our men. I was looking for the -Westminsters and they were difficult to find. I -passed over one trench and reached another. -There I asked the men if they knew where the -Westminsters were, and they expressed the -opinion that the regiment was in the trench -ahead. There was no communication trench -so I followed a fatigue-party for some distance -which was marching in single file, and -carrying hand-grenades to the firing line. They -turned to the right and I kept straight on. -Every few yards I passed rifles reversed and -fastened in the ground by their bayonets. They -marked the graves of the dead. A few -soldiers, but newly killed, were still lying out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last I reached a trench and found in it -a number of Westminsters. They were -signalers on special duty, and they told me that -I had already passed the regiment on my left. -The poor fellows were in a sad plight. The -weather was cold and they were without -shelter. There were German dug-outs but they -were partly blown in and full of German dead. -The stench that rose from these, and from the -shallow graves around, was almost unbearable. -Yet there amid falling shells, the lads had to -remain day and night. Their rations were -brought to them, but as every ounce of food -and drop of water, in addition to the letters -from home, had to be brought on pack mules -through seven or eight miles of field tracks in -which the mules struggled on up to the knees -in sticky mud and sometimes up to the belly, -it was impossible for the regiment to receive -anything beyond water and "iron rations," i.e., -hard biscuits. Water was so precious that not -a drop could be spared to wash faces or clean -teeth with, and I always took my own -water-bottle and food, to avoid sharing the scanty -supplies of the officers. After a little time -spent with the signalers I moved up the trench -and looked in at the little dug-out of the -Colonel commanding. All the officers present, -bearded almost beyond recognition, were sitting -on the floor. The enemy had left a small red -electric light, which added an almost absurd -touch of luxury to the miserable place. Farther -up the trench I found the Brigade Staff -Captain in a similar dug-out and after making -inquiries as to the position of the Queen's -Westminster Regiment which was my objective, I -left to find it; for the sun was already setting. -The path was across the open fields, and the -saddest I have ever trod. I was alone and -had but little idea of location, but it was -impossible to miss the path. On the right and -left, it was marked at every few steps with -dead men. Most of them were still grasping -their rifles. They had fallen forward as they -rushed over the ground, and their faces--their -poor, blackened, lipless faces--were towards -the foe. There had, as yet, been no -opportunity to bury them for the ground was still -being shelled and the burial parties had been -all too busily engaged in other parts of the -field. I longed to search for their identity -discs that I might know who they were and -make a note of the names; but I had to leave -it to the burial party. I was already feeling -sick with the foul smells in the trench and the -sights on the way, and lacked the strength to -look for the discs around the wrists and necks -of the poor, decomposed bodies. It had to be -left to men of the burial party whose nerves -were somewhat more hardened to the task by -other experiences of the kind. It was a new -Calvary on which I was standing. These poor -bodies miles from home and with no woman's -hands to perform the last offices of affection -were lying there as the price of the world's -freedom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Would that all who talk glibly of freedom -and justice might have seen what I saw on that -dreary journey, that they might the better -realize the spiritual depths of liberty and -righteousness, and the high cost at which they are won -for the race. It is fatally easy to persuade -ourselves that there is no need for us to tread the -bitter path of suffering and death--that we can -achieve freedom and justice by being charitable, -and by talking amiably to our enemies. We -try to believe that they are as anxious to -achieve liberty for the world as we are, that -they are striving to bind mankind in fetters of -iron, only through lack of knowledge as to -our intentions. Their hearts and intentions are -good but they are misled, and after a little talk -with them around a table they would put off -their "shining armor" and become angels of -light carrying palm branches in place of swords -and fetters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This is a mighty pleasant theory, only it is -not true; and we cannot get rid of evil by -ignoring it, nor of the devil by buying him a new -suit. There are men willing to die to destroy -liberty, just as there are others willing to die -in its defense. It is not that they do not -understand liberty. They </span><em class="italics">do</em><span>, and that is why they -wish to destroy it. It is the enemy of their -ideal. Whether liberty will survive or not, -depends upon whether there are more men -inspired to die in defending liberty, than there -are willing to die in opposing it. A thing lives -while men love it sufficiently well to die for it. -We get what we deserve; and readiness to die -for it is the price God has put on liberty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Words are things too cheap to buy it. When -someone suggested establishing a new religion -to supersede Christianity, Voltaire is reported -to have asked if the founder were willing to -be crucified for it? Otherwise, it would stand -no chance of success. It was a deep criticism, -and showed that Voltaire was no fool. Blood is -the test, not words. A nation can only achieve -liberty when it is determined to be free or die. -"Whosoever shall seek to save his life shall -lose it." "Never man spake" as Christ spake, -but He did not save the world by talking to -it, but by dying for it. Outpoured blood, not -outpoured words, is the proof of moral -convictions and the means of their propaganda; -our soldiers may not be learned in some things, -but they have learned </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>. They know the -cause will win which has most moral power, and -that the cause with most moral strength will -prove itself to be the one with most martyrs. -And the side with most men ready to be -martyrs will outstay the other. The spirit of -martyrdom, not negotiation, is the path to -liberty and peace. You cannot negotiate with -a tiger. The dispute is too simple for negotiation. -You have to kill the tiger, or yourself be -killed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While I was on leave, a man told me that -he had asked some soldiers from the Front -why they were fighting, and they could not tell -him. Probably. All the deepest things are -of life beyond telling. No true man can tell -why he loves his wife or children. This trust -in words, in being able to "tell why," is truly -pathetic. I would not trust a wife's love if -she could tell her husband exactly </span><em class="italics">why</em><span> she -loved him; nor would I trust our soldiers not -to turn tail in battle if they could </span><em class="italics">tell</em><span> just why -they are fighting. They cannot </span><em class="italics">tell</em><span>, but with -their poor lipless faces turned defiantly against -the foe they can </span><em class="italics">show</em><span> why they are fighting. -Let those who want to know the soldiers' -reason </span><em class="italics">why</em><span> they fight go and see them there on -the blasted field of battle, not ask them when -they come home on leave. The lips of a soldier -perish </span><em class="italics">first</em><span>, as his dead body lies exposed on -the battlefield; his rifle he clutches to the last; -and it is a lesson terrible enough for even the -densest talker to understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dead lads lying out in the open with -their rifles pointing towards the enemy voice -their reason why loud enough for the deaf -to hear and the world to heed. Ideals must -be died for if they are to be realized on -earth, for they have bitter enemies who -stick at nothing. And we have to defend our -ideal with our lives or be cravens and let it -perish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>History, with unimportant variations, is -constantly repeating itself; and in nothing is it -so consistent as in the price it puts on liberty. -The lease of liberty runs out; the lease has -to be renewed, and it is renewed by suffering -and martyrdom. The dear dead lads whom -I saw on that terrible afternoon were -renewing the lease. With their bodies they had -marked out a highway over which the peoples -of the earth may march to freedom and to -justice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The view, all too common, that our soldiers -regard the war as a kind of picnic, and an -attack as a sort of rush for the goal in a game -of football, is false--false as sin. It is a view -blind to the whole psychology of the war, and -misses the meaning of our soldiers' gayety as -much as it ignores their fear and sorrow. The -trenches are a Gethsemane to them and their -prayer is, "Our Father, all things are possible -unto Thee: take away this cup from me: -nevertheless not what I will, but what Thou wilt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day, when I went into a mess-room in -which letters were being censored, an officer -said to me, "Read this, Padre, there's a -reference to you, and a candid expression of a man's -attitude towards religion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took the letter and it read: "Our chaplain -isn't far out when he says, in his book, that -though we may speak lightly of the church we -don't think or speak lightly of Christ. -However careless we may be when we are out of -the trenches, when we are in we all pray. -There is nothing else we can do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have been eighteen months with a fighting -regiment on the Front, and I have never spoken -to any officer who did not regard it as a -mathematical certainty that, unless he happened to -fall sick or be transferred--neither of which -he expected--he would be either killed or -wounded. And I agreed with him without -saying it. He does not even hope to escape -wounds. They are inevitable if he stays long -enough; for one battle follows another and his -time comes. He only hopes to escape death -and the more ghastly wounds. He hopes the -wound when it comes will be a "cushy one." The -men take the same view. The period before -going into the trenches, or into battle, is -to them like the Garden of Gethsemane was -to Christ; they are "exceeding sorrowful" and -in their presence I have often felt as one who -stood "as it were, a stone's throw" from them. -They are going out with the expectation of -meeting death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the 1st of July, 1916, twenty officers in -our regiment went over the top. Nineteen -were killed or wounded and the one who -returned to the regiment was suffering from -shell-shock and had to be sent home. Although -our losses are much lower now, the officers and -men experience the agony and bloody sweat -of Gethsemane rather than the pleasure of a -picnic in Epping Forest. This explains, too, -their gayety. It is the happiness of men who -know that they are doing their bit for the -world's good, and playing the man, not the -cad. The rise of happiness into gayety is the -natural reaction from the sorrow and alarm -which have been clouding their hearts. In -peace time they will never know either the -intensity of joy or sorrow they know now. A -man never feels so truly humorous as when he -is sad. Humor is a kind of inverted sadness. -The most exquisite sadness produces the most -exquisite humor as the deepest wells give the -sweetest, purest and coldest water.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Tears and laughter are never far from one another,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The heart overflows on one side, and then on the other.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Our soldiers' minds are not filled with -thoughts of Germans, but with thoughts of the -friends they have left behind them. Nor do -they often think of killing Germans. They -neither think so much of the Germans nor so -bitterly of them as do the people at home. -The Germans have not the same prominence -in the picture. Deeds relieve their emotions in -regard to the Germans and leave their hearts -open for the things and folk they love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is commonly supposed (and this idea is -fostered by some war correspondents), that -when our men go over the top they are -possessed with a mad lust to kill Germans. The -ultimate aim of a general planning a battle is -to kill Germans no doubt, for that is the only -way to achieve victory; and if the Germans do -not want to be killed they know what to do. -Let them surrender or retire. The private -agrees with the general in the necessity for -killing Germans, but that is not what he is -thinking of when he goes over the top; nor is -it what we should be thinking of in his place. -He is thinking of the Germans killing him. -Life is sweet at nineteen or one-and-twenty. It -pleads to be spared a little longer. A lad does -not want to die; and as he goes over the parapet -he is thinking less of taking German lives than -of losing his own. He knows that German -heads will not fit English shoulders, and that, -however many enemy lives he may take, none -of them will restore his own if he loses it, as -he is quite likely to do. He is going out to -be mutilated or to die. That is his standpoint -whatever may be the general's or the -war-correspondent's. He goes for his country's sake -and the right. It is his duty, and there is an -end of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most of the killing in modern war is done -by the artillery and machine-guns. Comparatively -few men have seen the face of an enemy -they know themselves to have killed. A -regiment goes out to be shot at, rather than to -shoot. Unless this simple fact be grasped, the -mentality of the soldier cannot be understood. -The lust for killing Germans would never take -a man out of his dug-out; but the love of his -country and the resolve to do his duty will take -him out and lead him over the top. It is what -he volunteered for, but it goes hard when the -time comes for all that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The unburied men I saw had, but a short -while ago, no idea of becoming soldiers. They -were the light of a home and the stay of a -business. With that they were content. But -the challenge came; and they went out to -defend the right against the wrong--the true -against the false. They toiled up a new -Calvary "with the cross that turns not back," and -now they lie buried in a strange land. They -have lost all for themselves, but they have -gained all for us and for those who will come -after us. Yet although they saved others, -themselves they could not save.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hospital-train"><span class="bold large">XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">THE HOSPITAL TRAIN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We were carried from our regiments to -the hospital in ambulance cars. I, -and several others, had trench fever. -Some were suffering from gas poisoning. One -lovely boy--for he was nothing more--was -near to death with "mustard" gas. The doctor -at the Dressing Station had opened a vein and -bled him of a pint of blood. It was the only -hope of saving him. But as the car bumped -over the rough roads and the gas in his lungs -grew more suffocating he almost despaired of -reaching the hospital alive. Others were -wounded; and one had appendicitis. After a -period in hospital, during which we were -honored with a visit by General Byng, it was -decided that we should go to the Base. We lay -down on stretchers, and orderlies carried us to -the waiting cars. At the station we were lifted -into the hospital train. The racks had been -taken down and stretchers put in their places. -These were reserved for the "lying cases." The -"sitting cases" occupied the seats--one to -each corner. It was afternoon and as soon as -the train began to move tea was served. The -train sped on and, about sun-set, a most -excellent dinner was provided by the orderlies on -board.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the time of the new moon. "Keep -the window open," said one, "it is unlucky to -see the new moon through glass, and we need -all the good luck we can get," and he avoided -looking through the glass until he had seen the -moon through the open window. We chatted, -read our magazines, or slept--just as we felt -inclined. The night wore on and at about two -o'clock we reached Rouen. Cars rushed us to -one of the Red Cross hospitals. A doctor -slipped out of bed, examined our cards, decided -in which wards we should be put, and orderlies -led or carried us thither. A nurse showed each -of us to his room. We were got to bed and -another nurse brought some tea. Next -morning we were examined and put down for -removal across the Channel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The nurses are radiant as sunshine, and -diffuse a spirit of merriment throughout the -hospital. It was a pure joy to be under their -care. At three o'clock the following morning, -without previous warning, a nurse came and -awakened us. We had half an hour to dress. -Another nurse then came round with a dainty -breakfast. We were then put into cars and -taken to the hospital train. It left as dawn -was breaking, and we were on our way to -"Blighty." We had a comfortable journey and -reached Havre about nine. Orderlies carried -us on board ship and we were taken to our -cots. Breakfast was served immediately. We -felt a huge content; and hoped to be across by -night. But the ship remained by the quay all -day. In the evening it moved out of the harbor -and lay near its mouth. Towards midnight it -slipped its anchor and headed for home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All had received life-belts and a card directing -us which boat to make for, should the ship -be torpedoed. Mine was "Boat 5, Starboard." My -neighbor on the right had been on a torpedoed -boat once and had no desire to be on -another. The lights of the ship were obscured -or put out, and we silently stole over the waters -towards the much desired haven. There was -no sound but the steady thump of the engines, -and we were soon asleep. Shortly after dawn -we awoke to find ourselves in Southampton -Water. A water-plane drew near, settled like -a gull on the water, and then plowed its way -through the waves with the speed of a motor-boat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About nine o'clock we were carried off the -boat to the station. Women workers supplied us -with telegraph forms, confectionery and -cigarettes; orderlies brought us tea. We were then -taken to the train. It was even more comfortable -than the hospital trains in France; and we had -women nurses. On each side of the train, for -its full length, were comfortable beds and we -were able to sit up or recline at our pleasure. -Lunch was served on board, and of a character -to tempt the most ailing man. No shortage -of food is allowed to obtain on the hospital -train. It has the first claim on the food supply -and it has the first claim to the railroad. It -stops at no station except for its own -convenience. Even the King's train stops to let -the hospital train pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were under the care of a nurse who had -reached middle life. She had been on a -torpedoed hospital ship! on one that struck a -mine without bursting it; and on another that -collided with a destroyer in the dark. She was -greatly disappointed at the decision which had -removed nurses from the hospital ships because -of the danger from submarines. She fully -appreciated the chivalry of the men who would -not let their women be drowned; but it had -robbed the women of a chance of proving their -devotion, and she could not see why the men -should do all the dying. The women were -ready to meet death with the men and as their -mates and equals. Their place was with the -wounded whatever might befall, and they were -ready.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hospital trains have run daily for three -years now, and human nature can get used to -anything. We thought, therefore, that the -people would have become used to the hospital -train. But greater surprise never gladdened a -man's heart than the one which awaited us as -we steamed out of Southampton. All the -women and children by the side of the railway -were at their windows or in their gardens, -waving their hands to us. And all the way to -Manchester the waving of welcoming hands -never ceased. At every station the porters -doffed their caps to the hospital train as it sped -past. There was not a station large or small -that did not greet us with a group of proud -smiling faces. Our eyes were glued to the -windows all the way. For one day in our lives, -at least, we were kings, and our procession -through "England's green and pleasant land" -was a royal one. We passed through quiet -country districts but at every wall or fence -there were happy faces. We wondered where -they all came from, and how they knew of our -coming. There were tiny children sitting on -all the railway fences waving hands to us. -One little girl of four or five was sitting on the -fence by a country station and waving her little -hand. We had not seen English children for -months and Pope Gregory spoke the truth -ages ago when he said that they are "not -Angles but Angels." The sight of them after -so long an absence was as refreshing to the -spirit as the sight of violets and primroses -after a long and bitter winter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Birmingham the train made its only stop. -Men and women of the St. John Ambulance -Association boarded the train and supplied us -with tea; and, as the train moved out, stood -at attention on the platform. At Manchester -we received a warm welcome that told us we -were in Lancashire. Men and women helped -us to the waiting cars and handed cups of tea -to us. It was raining of course--being -Manchester--but as we passed near a railway arch -a waiting crowd rushed out into the rain and -startled us with a cry of welcome which was also -a cry of pain. Most of the men in the cars -were Lancashire lads and in the welcome given -them there were tears as well as smiles. -Lancashire has a great heart as well as a long head. -It suffers with those who suffer and the cry of -the heart was heard in the welcome of its -voice. There was a welcome too, at the door -of the hospital and at the door of each ward. -Water was brought to our bedside, and then -a tray bearing a well-cooked dinner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had reached home.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="after-winter-spring"><span class="bold large">XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">AFTER WINTER, SPRING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A man's heart must be dead within him -if, under the summer sun, he can look -on the desolated ground of the Western -battle-front without feeling emotions of -joy and hope. In the winter-time the clumps -of blasted trees looked like groups of forsaken -cripples. Their broken branches stood out -against the gray sky in utter nakedness, as if -appealing to heaven against the inhumanity of -man. In a way, it was more depressing to -pass a ruined wood than a destroyed village. -Some of the trees had all their limbs shattered; -others, thicker than a man's body, were cut -clean through the middle; others, again, were -torn clean up by the roots and lay sprawling -on the ground. It seemed impossible that spring -could ever again clothe them in her garments -of gladdening green. We imagined the trees -would appear amid the sunshine of the -summer black, gaunt and irreconcilable; pointing -their mangled stumps towards those who had -done them such irreparable wrong and, as the -wind whistled through them, calling on all -decent men to rise up and avenge them of their -enemies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, suddenly, we found that the reconciling -spring was back in the woods exercising all -her oldtime witchery. Each broken limb was -covered with fresh foliage and each scarred -stump put out sprouts of green. The broken -but blossoming woods grew into a picture of -Hope, infinitely more sublime and touching -than the one to which Watts gave the name. -It was a picture drawn and colored by the -finger of God, and it made the fairest of man's -handiwork look weak and incomplete. Uprooted -trees lay on the ground in full blossom, -and shell-lopped branches again took on the -form of beauty. The transformation was -wonderful to behold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it all happened in a week. When our -men went into the trenches the trees were -black, bare and bruised, but when they came -out of the front line into the support-trenches -the wood behind them was a tender green and -had grown curved and symmetrical. It seemed -as if the fairies of our childhood had returned -to the earth and were dwelling in the wood. -Although two long-range naval guns lay hidden -behind it, which, with deep imprecations opened -their terrible mouths to hurl fiery thunderbolts -at the enemy, the fairies seemed unafraid and -daily continued to weave for the trees beautiful -garments of leaf and blossom. I have seen -nothing that brought such gladness to both -officers and men. A new spirit seemed abroad. -We were in a new atmosphere and a new -world. The war seemed already won, and the -work of renewal and reconstruction begun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the summer had done for the -ground what the spring did for the trees. One -Sunday, I was to hold a service on ground -that was, in the springtime, No Man's Land. -Having ample time I left the dusty road and -walked across the broken fields through which -our front-line trenches had run. There were -innumerable shell holes and I had to pick my -way with care through the long grass and -lingering barbed wire. I had been over the -ground on the day following the advance. -Then it was a sea of mud, with vast breakwaters -of rusty barbed wire. Now, however, -Nature's healing hand was at work. Slowly -but surely the trenches were falling in, and the -shell-holes filling up. The lips of the craters -and trenches were red as a maiden's--red with -the poppies which come to them. Here and -there were large patches of gold and white -where unseen hands had sown the mud with -dog-daisies. There were other patches all -ablaze with the red fire of the poppies, and as -the slender plants swayed in the wind, the fire -leaped up or died down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the war broke out I was in "Poppyland" -near Cromer, in East Anglia. There I -first heard the tramp of armed men on the way -to France, and there first caught the strain of -"Tipperary"--the farewell song of the First -Seven Divisions--a strain I can never hear -now without having to stifle back my tears. -As I passed by these patches of blood-red -poppies I thought of those old and stirring days -at Cromer when we watched a regiment of the -original Expeditionary Force singing -"Tipperary" as it marched swingingly through the -narrow streets. The declaration of war was -hourly expected and the pier and some of the -Sunday-school rooms were given to the soldiers -for billets. By morning every soldier had -vanished and we could only guess where, but -a remark made by one of them to another -lingers still. They were standing apart, and -watching the fuss the people were making over -the regiment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said to his comrade, "they think -a great deal of the soldiers in time of war, -but they don't think much of us in days of -peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The remark was so true that it cut like a -knife and the wound rankles yet. I have often -wondered what became of the lad that went -out to France to the horrors of war, with such -memories of our attitude towards him in the -times of peace. I hope he lived long enough -to see our repentance. His memory haunted -me among the poppies of Beaurains. In the -English Poppyland there was nothing to -compare with the red-coated army of poppies now -occupying our old front line. In these trenches -our gallant men had for nearly three years -fought and bled, and it seemed as if every drop -of blood poured out by them had turned into -a glorious and triumphant poppy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The spring and summer have taught me -afresh that there is in our lives a Power that -is not ourselves. It is imminent in us and in -all things, yet transcends all. "Change and -decay in all around we see," and still there is -One who changes not; He "</span><em class="italics">from</em><span> everlasting -</span><em class="italics">to</em><span> everlasting is God." He is the fountain of -eternal life that no drought can touch. He -heals the broken tree and the broken heart. -He clothes the desolate fields of war with the -golden corn of peace, and in the trenches that -war has scored across the souls of men, he -plants the rich poppies of memory. He drives -away the icy oppression of winter with the -breath or spring, and in His mercy assuages -"the grief that saps the mind for those that -here we see no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He who turns rain-mists into rainbows and -brings out of mud scarlet poppies and -white-petaled daisies without a speck of dirt upon -them, is at work in human life. Out of mud -He has formed the poppy and out of the dust -the body of man. Who then can set Him -limits when He works in the finer material of -man's soul? Eye hath not seen nor heart -conceived the beauty that will come forth when -His workmanship is complete. "If God so -clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, -and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall He -not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith" -who were made for immortality? His ways -are past finding out, but they are good. He -puts out the sun but brings forth millions of -stars in its stead. At His call they come -flocking forth as doves to their windows. He -blinds Milton but brings into his soul a flood -of light such as never shone on sea or land, -and in its rays he sees Paradise, lost and -regained. He shuts Bunyan in a noisome prison, -and closes against him the door to his beloved -Bedford, but He opens to him a magic window -that looks on heaven, and the years pass swiftly -as he watches the progress of the pilgrims -towards the Celestial City. In the mud that -has been stained and even saturated with the -life-blood of our soldiers, He has made poppies -to spring to loveliness. It is a parable He is -speaking to us, that the heart of man may feel -and believe that which it is beyond the power -of the mind to grasp, or the tongue to explain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wounds of France are deep and deadly -but they are not self-inflicted and they will heal. -She will blossom again with a glory greater -and purer than all her former glories. She -is even now finding her soul, and revealing a -moral beauty and endurance such as few, even -of her dearest friends, could have foreseen or -foretold. For ashes, God has given her beauty, -and it is worth all her suffering. Not Voltaire, -but Joan of Arc is her pride to-day. When -I was in Rouen I saw the fresh flowers which -the people daily place on the spot where she -died. France knows where her strength lies. -Over Napoleon she has built a magnificent -tomb of marble, but in it, she has not placed -a single flower. As I walked through it, some -time ago, I felt depressed. It made me shiver. -It is magnificent, but dead. One of Joan of -Arc's living flowers would be worth the whole -pile. It is the most tremendous sermon ever -preached on the vanity of military glory and -the emptiness of genius when uninspired by -moral and spiritual worth. France knows. -She gives Joan of Arc a flower, but Napoleon -a stone. France was never so great as now, -and never of such supreme importance to the -world. We could not do without her. On her -coins she represents herself as a Sower that -goes forth sowing. It is a noble ideal, and -truly, where she scatters her seeds of thought -the fair flowers of liberty, equality and -fraternity spring up as poppies spring, where the -blood of our soldiers has watered her fields. -France is the fair Sower among the nations, and -it will be our eternal glory that when she was -suddenly and murderously attacked in her fields -by her brutal and envious neighbor--who -shamelessly stamps a bird of prey on his coins -for </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> symbol, and a skull and cross-bones on -his soldiers' headgear as the expression of his -ambition--England came to her rescue, and -not in vain. The German sword has gone -deeply into the heart of France, but it will leave -not a festering wound but a well of water at -which mankind will drink and be refreshed. -Wound the earth, and there springs forth -water; wound France and there springs forth -inspiration. Trample France in the mud, and -she comes forth pure again, passionate and free -as a poppy blown by the summer wind.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics small">Printed in the United States of America</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics large">By CHAPLAIN THOMAS TIPLADY</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics large">FIFTH EDITION</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Cross at the Front</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">Fragments from the Trenches.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">12mo. Cloth. </span><em class="italics medium">Net $1.00</em><span class="medium">.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"'Vivid' is too dim a word to express -the living pictures which this chaplain has -seen in France. Some of the chapters are -among the finest pieces of pathos we have -read anywhere. Read the book and you -will be a better man for all your -tasks."--</span><em class="italics">Chicago Standard</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Soul of the Soldier</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">Echoes from the Western Front.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">12mo. Cloth. </span><em class="italics medium">Net $1.25</em><span class="medium">.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>An astonishing story Chaplain Tiplady -here has to tell--one in which the very -foundations of existence seem temporarily -uprooted, and the world turned upside-down. -Yet never, in the telling, does he lose the -unswerving faith and cheering optimism which -formed the prevailing note of THE CROSS -AT THE FRONT, nor for a moment relaxes his -belief that the cause of justice, truth and -righteousness is that for which the Allied -armies are now fighting.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE SOUL OF THE SOLDIER</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46323"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46323</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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