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diff --git a/46323.txt b/46323.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3ede1cd..0000000 --- a/46323.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4632 +0,0 @@ - THE SOUL OF THE SOLDIER - - - - -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 Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: The Soul of the Soldier - Sketches from the Western Battle-Front -Author: Thomas Tiplady -Release Date: July 18, 2014 [EBook #46323] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF THE SOLDIER *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover art] - - - - -[Illustration: Captain Guy Drummond, 13th Royal Canadian Highlanders. -Killed in action, April, 1915. -"A SON OF THE MOTHERLAND"] - - - - - The Soul _of_ The Soldier - - _Sketches from the Western - Battle-Front_ - - - BY - - THOMAS TIPLADY - - _Chaplain to the Forces_ - - Author of "THE CROSS AT THE FRONT," etc. - - - - NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO - Fleming H. Revell Company - LONDON AND EDINBURGH - - - - - Copyright, 1918, by - FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY - - - - New York: 158 Fifth Avenue - Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave. - London: 21 Paternoster Square - Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street - - - - - TO THE MEMORY OF THE MANY "WHITE MEN" - -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. - -"These laid the world away; poured out the red -Sweet wine of youth: gave up the years to be -Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene -That men call age; and those who would have been -Their sons they gave--their immortality." - - - - - *THE MOTHER'S ANSWER* - - God gave my son in trust to me. - Christ died for him. He should be - A man for Christ. He is his own - And God's and man's, not mine alone. - He was not mine to give. He gave - Himself, that he might help to save - All that a Christian should revere - All that enlightened men hold dear. - - "To feed the guns." Ah! torpid soul, - Awake, and see life as a whole. - When freedom, honor, justice, right, - Were threatened by the despot's might, - He bravely went for God, to fight - Against base savages, whose pride - The laws of God and man defied; - Who slew the mother and the child; - Who maidens, pure and sweet, defiled; - He did not go to feed the guns, - He went to save from ruthless Huns - His home and country, and to be - A guardian of democracy. - - "What if he does not come?" you say; - Well, then, my sky will be more gray, - But through the clouds the sun will shine - And vital memories be mine. - God's test of manhood is, I know - Not, will he come--_but did he go_? - - JAMES L. HUGHES. - - - - - *PREFACE* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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 _seed_. In the seed the tree reproduces itself. And reproduction, -whether in physical, moral or spiritual life, is the test of vitality. - -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. - -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." - -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. - -I would the flowers were worthier, but such as I have, I give; and they -are taken out of my heart. - - "Where my caravan has rested - Flowers I leave you on the grass; - All the flowers of love and memory; - You will find them when you pass." - - THOMAS TIPLADY. - -BRITISH EXPEDITIONARY FORCE, FRANCE. - - - - - *CONTENTS* - -CHAP. - - I. The Swan at Ypres - II. The Roadmakers - III. The Glamour of the Front - IV. A White Handkerchief - V. The Songs Our Soldiers Sing - VI. Easter Sunday - VII. "Now the Day is Over" - VIII. Sons of the Motherland - IX. The Terror by Night - X. "Eton Boys Never Duck!" - XI. "Missing" - XII. "It Must be Sunday" - XIII. Our Tommies Never Fail Us - XIV. The Cross at Neuve Chapelle - XV. The Children of Our Dead - XVI. A Funeral under Fire - XVII. A Soldier's Calvary - XVIII. The Hospital Train - XIX. After Winter, Spring - - - - - *I* - - *THE SWAN AT YPRES* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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 _that_. 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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *II* - - *THE ROADMAKERS* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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 _Him_. He is there before us, and awaiting our coming. - -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 _did_ "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." - -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, - - "And when my voice is lost in death - Praise shall employ my nobler powers; - My days of praise shall ne'er be past." - - -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?" - -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. - -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. - -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, _Oxford Street_. A little farther -off, and running parallel with it, is _Cambridge_ Road. There is also -an _Eton_ Road, _Harrow_ Road, and _Marlborough_ 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. - -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." - -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: - - "Tiddley-iddley-ighty, - Hurry me home to Blighty; - Blighty is the place for me." - - -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. - - - - - *III* - - *THE GLAMOUR OF THE FRONT* - - -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. - -"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.'" - -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. - -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 _do_ live." - -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. - -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? - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"But, you'll let me come with you, sir?" he replied. - -"Why should two risk their lives," asked the officer, "when one can do -the job?" - -"But you might get wounded, sir," was the quick response; and they went -together. - -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. - -"We haven't long to live," said Captain Ball joyfully, "but we live well -while we _do_ live," and in those words he expressed the glamour of the -Front. Ball found, as thousands of his comrades-in-arms had found, that - - "One crowded hour of glorious life - Is worth an age without a name." - - - - - *IV* - - *A WHITE HANDKERCHIEF* - - -In his _History of the Somme Campaign_ 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. - -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. - -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. - -In the army it is a term of supreme praise to call a man _white_. When -you say a comrade is a "_white man_" 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. - -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 _not defiled their -garments_; and they shall _walk with Me in white_; 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 _blameless_ life." His virtues were -positive, not merely negative. He wore a "white _robe_"; 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. - - - - - *V* - - *THE SONGS OUR SOLDIERS SING* - - -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. - -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. - -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." - -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, - - "We're here because we're here, because - We're here, because we're here." - -Or, - - "While you've got a lucifer to light your fag, - Smile, boys, that's the style. - What's the use of worrying? - It never was worth while, - So pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag - And smile, smile, smile." - -Another favorite is, - - "Oh, there was a little hen and she had a wooden leg, - The best little hen that ever laid an egg, - And she laid more eggs than any hen on the farm, - And another little drink wouldn't do us any harm." - -I have seen them dancing round some old piano singing, - - "Oh, that fascinating Bow Bells' glide, - It's a captivating Bow Bells' slide. - There's a rumor that the puma does it now, - Monkeys have taken to it, - Leopards and lions do it. - All the elephants wear dancing shoes, - They keep hopping with the kangaroos; - Hear them chatter, it's a matter for some talk; - Now the Jungle's got the Bow Bells' walk." - - -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. - -Now another song with verses more expressive of their sentiments has -taken its place. The chorus runs: - - "There's a long, long trail a-winding - Into the land of my dreams, - Where the nightingales are singing - And a white moon beams; - There's a long, long night of waiting - Until my dreams all come true; - Till the day when I'll be going down - That long, long trail with you." - -Then the mood changes, and we hear the lads piping out, - - "Taffy's got his Jennie in Glamorgan, - Sandy's got his Maggie in Dundee, - While Michael O'Leary thinks of his dearie - Far across the Irish Sea. - Billy's got his Lily up in London, - So the boys march on with smiles; - For every Tommy's got a girl somewhere - In the dear old British Isles." - -Again the mood veers round, and we hear, - - "Every little while I feel so lonely, - Every little while I feel so blue, - I'm always dreaming, I'm always scheming, - Because I want you, and only you. - Every little while my heart is aching, - Every little while I miss your smile, - And all the time I seem to miss you; - I want to, want to kiss you, - Every, every, every little while." - - -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: - - "If you were the only girl in the world, - And I were the only boy, - Nothing else would matter in the world to-day, - We could go on loving in the same old way; - A Garden of Eden just made for two, - With nothing to mar our joy; - I would say such wonderful things to you, - There would be such wonderful things to do, - If you were the only girl in the world, - And I were the only boy." - - -Sometimes the imagination will wander into the days that are to be--for -some--and they sing, - - "We don't want a lot of flags flying, - We don't want your big brass bands; - We don't want a lot of speechifying, - And we don't want a lot of waving hands; - We don't want a lot of interfering, - When we've safely crossed the foam; - But we _do_ want to find the girls we left behind, - When we all come marching home." - - -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. - -"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." - -I have caught this yearning in more than one of the songs our soldiers -sing, but especially in the following, which is called "Absent": - - "Sometimes, between long shadows on the grass, - The little truant waves of sunlight pass; - My eyes grow dim with tenderness, the while - Thinking I see thee, thinking I see thee smile. - - "And sometimes in the twilight gloom, apart, - The tall trees whisper, whisper heart to heart; - From my fond lips the eager answers fall, - Thinking I hear thee, thinking I hear thee call." - - -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. - -Another great favorite is, - - "They built a little garden for the rose, - And they called it Dixie-land; - They built a summer breeze to keep the snows - Far away from Dixie-land; - They built the finest place I've known, - When they built my home sweet home; - Nothing was forgotten in the land of cotton, - From the clover to the honey-comb, - And then they took an angel from the skies - And they gave her heart to me. - She had a bit of heaven in her eyes - Just as blue as blue can be; - They put some fine spring chickens in the land, - And taught my Mammy how to use a frying pan. - They made it twice as nice as paradise, - And they called it Dixie-land." - - -Being Londoners, the following song called "Leave" never fails in its -appeal to our Division: - - "I'm so delighted, I'm so excited, - With my folks I'm going to be united. - The train's departing, 'twill soon be starting; - I'll see my mother, my dad and my baby brother. - My! How I'll meet them, My! how I'll greet them. - What a happy happy day. - Just see that bustle, I'd better hustle, - Good-bye--so long--can't stay-- - - Chorus - - "I'm on my way back to dear old Shepherd's Bush, - That's the spot where I was born, - Can't you hear the porter calling, - Queen's Road, Piccadilly, Marble Arch and Bond Street? - Oh, I'll not hesitate, I'll reach the gate; - Through the crowd I mean to push, - Find me a seat anywhere--please anywhere, - Tram, train, tube, 'bus I don't care-- - For mother and daddy are waiting there-- - In dear old Shepherd's Bush." - - -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. - -"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 _for those at home_." That is their constant -refrain, and it finds an echo in a song often sung by them. - - "It's a long long way to my home in Kentucky, - Where the blue-bells grow 'round the old cabin door; - It's a long, long way and I'll be mighty lucky - When I see my dear old mammy once more. - So weep no more, my lady, - Just brush those tears away; - It's a long long way to my home in Kentucky, - But I'm bound to get there some day." - - -But the chief favorite of all Home Songs is, I think, the following: - - "There's an old-fashioned house in an old-fashioned street; - In a quaint little old-fashioned town; - There's a street where the cobble stones harass the feet, - As it straggles up hill and then down; - And, though to and fro through the world I must go, - My heart while it beats in my breast, - Where e'er I may roam, to that old-fashioned home - Will fly like a bird to its nest. - - "In that old-fashioned house in that old-fashioned street, - Dwell a dear little old-fashioned pair; - I can see their two faces so tender and sweet, - And I love every wrinkle that's there. - I love ev'ry mouse in that old-fashioned house - In the street that runs up hill and down; - Each stone and each stick, ev'ry cobble and brick, - In that quaint little old-fashioned town." - - -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: - - "When you come to the end of a perfect day, - And you sit alone with your thought, - While the chimes ring out with a carol gay, - For the joy that the day has brought; - Do you think what the end of a perfect day - Can mean to a tired heart, - When the sun goes down with a flaming ray, - And the dear friends have to part? - - "Well, this is the end of a perfect day, - Near the end of a journey too; - But it leaves a thought that is big and strong, - With a wish that is kind and true. - For mem'ry has painted this perfect day - With colors that never fade; - And we find at the end of a perfect day - _The soul of a friend we've made_." - - -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." - -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. - -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. - - - - - *VI* - - *EASTER SUNDAY* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. Dore 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. - -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 _would_ 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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *VII* - - *"NOW THE DAY IS OVER"* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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: - - "Jesus protects; my fears, be gone! - What can the Rock of Ages move? - Safe in Thy arm I lay me down, - Thy everlasting arms of love. - - "While Thou art intimately nigh, - Who, then, shall violate my rest? - Sin, earth, and hell I now defy; - I lean upon my Saviour's breast. - - "Me for Thine own Thou lov'st to take, - In time and in eternity, - Thou never, never wilt forsake - A helpless soul that trusts in Thee." - -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. - -We were leaving the Arras front and we sang a hymn for those who had -taken our places: - - "O Lord of Hosts, Whose mighty arm - In safety keeps 'mid war's alarm, - Protect our comrades at the Front - Who bear of war the bitter brunt. - And in the hour of danger spread - Thy sheltering wings above each head, - - "In battle's harsh and dreadful hour, - Make bare Thine arm of sovereign power, - And fight for them who fight for Thee, - And give to justice, victory. - O in the hour of danger spread - Thy sheltering wings above each head. - - "If by the way they wounded lie, - O listen to their plaintive cry; - And rest them on Thy loving breast, - O Thou on Whom the cross was pressed; - And in the hour of danger shed - Thy glorious radiance o'er each head. - - "When pestilence at noonday wastes, - And death in triumph onward hastes, - O Saviour Christ, remember Nain, - And give us our beloved again. - In every ward of sickness tread, - And lay Thy hand upon each head. - - "O Friend and Comforter divine, - Who makest light at midnight shine, - Give consolation to the sad - Who in the days of peace were glad. - And in the hour of sorrow spread - Thy wings above each drooping head. - Amen." - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -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." - -"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.'" - -"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." - -"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 _God_ '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. - -"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. - -"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, - - 'My heart leaps up when I behold - A rainbow in the sky.'" - - -After I had finished speaking we sang, at the request of one of the -sergeants, the hymn commencing - - "The Day Thou gavest Lord is ended, - The darkness falls at Thy behest." - -And beautiful indeed was the singing of it. - -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: - - "Now the day is over, - Night is drawing nigh, - Shadows of the evening - Steal across the sky. - - "Jesus, give the weary - Calm and sweet repose; - With Thy tenderest blessing - May their eyelids close. - - "Grant to little children - Visions bright of Thee; - Guarding the sailors tossing - On the angry sea. - - "Comfort every sufferer - Watching late in pain; - Those who plan some evil - From their sin restrain. - - "When the morning wakens, - Then may I arise - Pure and fresh, and sinless - In Thy holy eyes." - -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. - -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." - -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. - -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. - - - - - *VIII* - - *SONS OF THE MOTHERLAND* - - -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. - -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. - -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 _Home_?" 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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - "They came as the winds come - When forests are rended; - They came as the waves come - When navies are stranded." - - - - - *IX* - - *THE TERROR BY NIGHT* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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 _long_ 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. - -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. - -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. - -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.) - -A long silence elapsed, then the lieutenant appeared at the door of the -tent again. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *X* - - *"ETON BOYS NEVER DUCK!"* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Eton boys never duck," replied the young aristocrat. - -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. - -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. - -Our forefathers crossed swords with Caesar 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. - -"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. - - - - - *XI* - - *"MISSING"* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -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." - -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. - -After the attack on Gommecourt 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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *XII* - - *"IT MUST BE SUNDAY"* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -"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. - -[Illustration: "HE WAS RATHER BADLY DONE IN" -_Drawn by F. Matahia for The Sphere, London_] - -"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. - -"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. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -So ended the day which, in the hour of dawn, the dark had told the young -engineer "must be Sunday." - - - - - *XIII* - - *OUR TOMMIES NEVER FAIL US* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -When I returned in the evening to our billet I told the transport -officer of the magnificent bravery of the artillery drivers. - -"Any other drivers would behave just as well, if caught in the same -trap," he replied. - -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. - - - - - *XIV* - - *THE CROSS AT NEUVE CHAPELLE* - - -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. - -The experience of many a gallant soldier is expressed in the following -Belgian poem: - - "I came to a halt at the bend of the road; - I reached for my ration, and loosened my load; - I came to a halt at the bend of the road. - - "O weary the way, Lord; forsaken of Thee, - My spirit is faint--lone, comfortless me; - O weary the way, Lord; forsaken of Thee. - - "And the Lord answered, Son, be thy heart lifted up, - I drank, as thou drinkest, of agony's cup; - And the Lord answered, Son, be thy heart lifted up. - - "For thee that I loved, I went down to the grave, - Pay thou the like forfeit thy Country to save; - For thee that I loved, I went down to the grave. - - "Then I cried, 'I am Thine, Lord; yea, unto this last.' - And I strapped on my knapsack, and onward I passed. - Then I cried, 'I am Thine, Lord; yea, unto this last.' - - "Fulfilled is the sacrifice. Lord, is it well? - Be it said--for the dear sake of country he fell. - Fulfilled is the sacrifice. Lord, is it well?" - - -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, Caesar, 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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *XV* - - *THE CHILDREN OF OUR DEAD* - - -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. - -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. - -"If you are to be killed," he replied, "I am to be killed too, for I -also have broken my mirror." - -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, - - "Fear death? ... - I was ever a fighter, so--one fight more, - The best and the last! - I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore, - And bade me creep past. - No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers - The heroes of old, - Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears - Of pain, darkness and cold. - For sudden the worst turns best to the brave, - The black minute's at end, - And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, - Shall dwindle, shall blend, - Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, - Then a light... - And with God be the rest!" - - -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. - -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." - -"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!'" - -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." - -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. - -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. - -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 _because_ 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. - -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; - - "Those who would have been - Their sons they gave--their immortality." - - -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? - -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." - -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 _his_ 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. - -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. - -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. - -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, - - "If ye break faith with us who die, - We shall not sleep, though poppies blow - In Flanders fields." - - - - - *XVI* - - *A FUNERAL UNDER FIRE* - - -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. - -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. - - "No useless coffin enclosed his breast, - Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; - But he lay like a warrior taking his rest - With his martial cloak around him." - - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *XVII* - - *A SOLDIER'S CALVARY* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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 _do_, 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. - -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 _that_. 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. - -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 _why_ she loved him; nor -would I trust our soldiers not to turn tail in battle if they could -_tell_ just why they are fighting. They cannot _tell_, but with their -poor lipless faces turned defiantly against the foe they can _show_ why -they are fighting. Let those who want to know the soldiers' reason _why_ -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 -_first_, 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. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -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." - -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." - -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. - -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. - - Tears and laughter are never far from one another, - The heart overflows on one side, and then on the other. - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *XVIII* - - *THE HOSPITAL TRAIN* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -We had reached home. - - - - - *XIX* - - *AFTER WINTER, SPRING* - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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 "_from_ everlasting _to_ 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." - -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. - -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 _his_ 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. - - - - _Printed in the United States of America_ - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - _*By CHAPLAIN THOMAS TIPLADY*_ - - _*FIFTH EDITION*_ - - - *The Cross at the Front* - - Fragments from the Trenches. - - 12mo. Cloth. _Net $1.00_. - -"'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."--_Chicago Standard_. - - - - *The Soul of the Soldier* - - Echoes from the Western Front. - - 12mo. Cloth. _Net $1.25_. - -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. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF THE SOLDIER *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46323 - -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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