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 WITH THE IMMORTAL SEVENTH DIVISION

 By the Rev. E. J. KENNEDY Chaplain Major to The Expeditionary Force. 

 With a Preface by the Right Reverend the LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER

 HODDER AND STOUGHTON LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO MCMXVI

 TO MY WIFE AND HELP-MATE OF MANY YEARS. 

PREFACE

This little record bears the impress of the character of itswriter--simple, manly, open-hearted towards man, and devout towards God. 

I have read a great part of it with keen interest. Written withoutstrain, from fresh personal experience, and with great sympathy for theofficers and men of our Army, it gives a very lively picture of achaplain's work at the Front, and the scenes and conditions under whichit is done. 

Mr. Kennedy's commanding stature, and fine physical manhood, gave himadvantages which his fine character and genial nature used, by God'sgrace, to the best effect. 

Having known him, and admired him from the time when I admitted him toPriest's Orders in South London, down to the day when at my request headdressed our Diocesan Conference upon the challenge given to the Churchby the war, and the claims and needs of the men of our Army returningfrom the Front, --a subject on which he glowed with eagerness, --it is ahappiness to me to bespeak for his words an attention which willcertainly be its own reward. 

I trust the book may do a little to lessen the loss which (to humanvision) the best interests of our country and her people have sufferedby his early and unexpected death. 

 EDW. WINTON. 

 FARNHAM CASTLE, _November, 1915. _

EDITOR'S NOTE

Chaplain Major E. J. Kennedy, the writer of this little book, returned tohis parish of St. John the Evangelist, Boscombe, in September 1915, having completed his year's service with the Expeditionary Force. Firedwith a deep sense of the need of rousing the Home Church and Land to aclearer realization of the spiritual needs of 'Our Men' and armed withthe approval of the Archbishop of Canterbury and the approval andconsent of his Diocesan, he determined to spend a certain amount of histime in the strenuous work of lecturing up and down the country, inaddition to his many parochial duties. Immediately on his return heplunged into this work, without taking any rest after his arduouslabours at the Front. On Tuesday, October 19, he was lecturing inLiverpool and Birkenhead. On Wednesday he was taken ill, and on Thursdayhe returned home. On the following Monday he succumbed to the diseasewhich doubtless he contracted at the Front. 

In the passing of Major Kennedy the Church and Nation have lost a manwho could ill be spared. So simple in his faith, so fearless andpowerful in his preaching, he was a man who wielded an influence almostunique in this country. Those who have been benefited by his ministryare not counted by hundreds but by tens of hundreds. His influence withthe men at the Front was extraordinary. A soldier writes, 'I was awfullysorry to hear of Mr. Kennedy's death. It came so sudden too. I expect hewould not wish for a better death than dying practically in hiscountry's cause. He will be greatly missed, his place will not be easilyfilled. Unfortunately there are not many men of his stamp in the world. He was "white" all through, a thing as rare as it is valuable. He was areal manly Christian gentleman. ' This letter is typical of hundredswhich have been received from all parts of the world, including theFront, so wide and far reaching was the sweep of his influence. 

Of him it may be truly said, 'He was God's man. ' Many in all schools ofthought and walks of life, as they think of him to-day willunconsciously say to themselves what the poet has expressed--

 "This is the happy warrior, this is he Whom every man in arms should wish to be. "

Well done! thou good and faithful servant. 

 J. H. 

CONTENTS

 PAGE

CHAPTER ITHE SEVENTH DIVISION 3

CHAPTER IITHE TREK THROUGH BELGIUM 27

CHAPTER IIITHE WELCOME OF A PEOPLE 69

CHAPTER IVA CHAPTER OF INCIDENTS 79

CHAPTER VTHE FIRST BATTLE OF YPRES 99

CHAPTER VICONCERNING OFFICERS AND MEN 121

CHAPTER VIITHE WORK OF A CHAPLAIN IN THE FIELD 139

CHAPTER VIIITHE CARE OF THE WOUNDED 159

CHAPTER IXWORK AT THE BASE 177

CHAPTER XA CLOSING WORD 195

THE SEVENTH DIVISION

CHAPTER I

THE SEVENTH DIVISION

'A telegram, sir!' and a mounted orderly who had ridden over fromLarkhill, stood outside my tent at the Bustard's Camp, Salisbury Plain, at 5 a. M. , on September 17, 1914. 

In that remote part of the world so removed from the benefits ofordinary life, we were yet in receipt of our daily papers at that earlyhour in the morning, and I was enjoying a twenty-four hours' history ofthe world, at the moderate price of a penny, when the brief tones of theorderly aroused me from its perusal. Its contents were startling: 'Youhave been selected for immediate foreign service. Report yourself earlyto-morrow morning at the War Office. ' For some days past I had beendoing duty with my Territorial Battalion, the 7th Hants; but daily I hadbeen hoping that I might be able to throw in my lot with the great massof men, who had volunteered at the call of King and country. 

During the month of August I had been shut up at the Riffel Alp withsome seventy other unfortunates; kicking our heels in enforced ignorancewhen we would fain have been near the centre of information, if not ofservice. Unable to travel owing to the railways of Switzerland andFrance being required for the mobilization of troops, we could onlypossess our souls in patience. It was a time never to be forgotten, foralthough our English blood was stirred by the rumours that reached us ofan expeditionary force being landed in France, under General Sir JohnFrench, and of even greater significance, the mobilization of theEnglish Fleet, yet our only source of information was derived from theCorriere della Sera, the communiqués of which were supplied by the WolffAgency. Our state of mind can be readily imagined when I mention suchpoints of _reliable_ news as the 'Destruction of the English Fleet;Death of Sir John French; Invasion of England; London taken; Bank ofEngland in flames. ' Of course we knew that this was false, and yet therewas no possibility of rebutting the statements. 

For nearly a month we alternated between hope and fear. The effect ofthe bright Swiss sunshine would at times render us optimistic, and thenthe fall of night would once more see us plunged into the depths of ahelpless pessimism. However, the time came when the little Englishcolony struggled through the difficulties of railway transport, andarrived once more in the region of authentic information. The journeyhome, which occupied three days, was full of interest, for France wasthrobbing with 'la guerre' and 'la gloire'; train after train withtroops bound for the Front, swept by us; while at Lyons we encounteredan ambulance train full of wounded, and another of German prisoners. Myparty had the advantage of travelling with the wife and son of a CabinetMinister, and through Sir E. Grey's kind solicitude for his colleague'speople, the best possible accommodation was provided for us, but eventhat powerful interest was not always sufficient to prevent delay anddiscomfort. On reaching Creil, the junction for Belgium, we found thestation full of English troops in their retreat from Mons, and many werethe stirring stories gathered from our retiring, but not disheartenedmen. The spirit of the French troops much impressed us; unaccompanied, my ladies went among them with confidence, and on every hand weretreated with the consideration of gentlemen. I remarked on this to aFrench gentleman who was travelling with us, and he said with warrantedpride, 'But they are gentlemen, monsieur. ' Some of the wounded Frenchtook the greatest interest in describing to us the circumstances underwhich they had been hit, --some, as the manner of soldiers is, displayedthe bullet or piece of shrapnel which had laid them low. 

Nearly all the troop trains going to the Front were decorated withflowers and evergreens, whilst the stations and villages were alive withenthusiastic people assembled to cheer their men onward to theirglorious and dangerous task. 

It was with thankful hearts and very travel-stained persons that wefinally reached home, heartily agreeing after our exciting experiencesthat a little goes a long way. 

I had at the earliest moment possible volunteered my services to theArmy Chaplains Department, but was informed that there was no prospectat that time of my being called upon; accordingly I joined myTerritorial Battalion, under Colonel Park, and was awaiting a summons toservice, here, there, or anywhere, when, as I have described, the callcame. I have often wondered why the War Office always springs upon onewith such alarming suddenness; possibly it is the way of the Army; it iscertainly disconcerting, although it is educational, for it teaches oneto be always ready and alert for any emergency. 

And now the order had come, and there was hurrying to and fro; a rapiddash home; a putting together of kit which would be required in theunknown life about to be entered upon. A last night at home; and thenthe reporting of oneself at the War Office; the signing of a contractfor twelve months' service; a medical examination as to physicalfitness; an hour or two's shopping at Harrods (where one developed atendency to think of everything not wanted, and to forget what wasreally useful); and finally Waterloo Station, that scene of manyfarewells. 'Good-bye' has so many significations. It may be uttered atthe parting for a couple of hours; it may be uttered, and often is, inthese days as the final word on earth to much loved ones. Oh, thesepartings! how they pull a man's heart to pieces; and yet, with thatremarkable insularity which characterizes our race, --or should I sayraces--it is one of the things seldom or never mentioned among men onservice; and yet I suppose it is always uppermost in a man's mind. Againand and again I have lit upon men in out of the way corners, reading awell worn letter, or perchance gazing at a photograph, every faciallineament of which was already well stamped upon the mind of the gazer. It is one of the mental attitudes which go to form a spirit ofcomradeship; the feeling that it is all part of the game, and we aremost of us tarred with the same brush. 

I had received my orders at the War Office, to join the Seventh Divisionthen mobilizing at Lyndhurst. 

The Seventh Division! that meant very little to me, and indeed to thepublic generally at that time, but what it signified to the nation willbe more fully appreciated when the history of this war is written. 

It may be interesting to give particulars of the composition of that, which I believe is the first Division ever to march out of an Englishcamp fully equipped. 

Under the command of Major-General T. Capper, C. B. , D. S. O. , [1] now SirThomson Capper, K. C. M. G. , C. B. , D. S. O. , it represented the very flowerof our Army, possessing a Staff of most capable officers. 

It consisted of:--

 Divisional Signal Company; Divisional Mounted troops; Northumberland Hussars; Cycle Company; Four Brigades of Artillery (R. H. A. , R. F. A. , R. G. A. ); Two Batteries R. G. A. ; Divisional Ammunition Column; Divisional Engineers, two Field Companies; 20th Infantry Brigade, -- Brig. -General H. G. Ruggles Brise, M. V. O. ; Brigade-Major A. B. E. Cator. 

 2nd Scots Guards; 1st Grenadier Guards; 2nd Border Regiment; 2nd Gordon Highlanders; 21st Infantry Brigade, -- Brig. H. E. Watts, C. B. ; Brigade-Major Captain W. Drysdale. 2nd Bedford Regiment; 2nd Yorks; 2nd Royal Scots Fusiliers; 2nd Wiltshire Regiment; 22nd Infantry Brigade-- Brig. S. T. B. Lawford; Brigade-Major Captain G. M. James, The Buffs. 

 2nd The Queens; 2nd Royal Warwick Regiment; 1st Royal Welsh Fusiliers; 1st South Staffs Regiment. 

 Divisional Train; Four Companies Divisional Medical Units; 21st Field Ambulance; 22nd " " 23rd " "

The mobilization of a Division for Active Service is a vast business;everything has to be thought of and provided; there must be a thoroughequipment for the men, horses, and transport; medical stores, saddlery, farriery, etc. , etc. , not a thing must be forgotten, for in those earlydays of the war there was no well-equipped Ordnance Department on theother side. Each Field Ambulance is a dispensary on wheels, comprisingthe hundred and one field comforts which warfare rightly provides forthe lamentable wrecks that pass through the hands of the R. A. M. C. 

The question of horses is no slight undertaking, and certainly givesrise to no little heartburning, as every mounted officer naturally triesto secure a good mount. To me it was a specially serious matter; when aman walks 15. 8 and rides another two stone at least, considerable carehas to be exercised in the selection of his equine friend, who has tobear with him the fatigues, trials and risks of a campaign. I shall everfeel the deepest obligation to Captain Kennedy Shaw, O. C. , RemountsDepartment, Salisbury, for supplying me with one of the best horses Ihave ever ridden; a big upstanding bay, with black points; deep chested;good quarters; with the most perfect manners, even under the heaviestfire, which could be desired. Strangely enough his name (which was tiedto his halter) was 'Ora Pro Nobis, ' a not inapt cognomen for a padré'shorse. He must have come out of a good stable, and I often felt thatsomeone must have hoped that he would fall into good hands. Should thisby any chance be read by the owner, let me say that both my groom and Itook the greatest care of my good steed until the day when Germanshrapnel ushered him into 'the eternal hayfield. '

They were happy days at Lyndhurst, where the Division remained for afortnight. The future stress of awful losses was only a bare possibilitythen, although it was on the horizon of many men's hearts; but at thetime it was ignored, for many of the officers had their women folkstaying, either in the village, or near at hand; and the lawn of the'Crown, ' the Divisional Head-quarters, was a bright and happy centre ofpleasurable intercourse. 

It was a strange experience to be ushered into the very vortex of asoldier's life, although my experience of military camp life was not anew one; in far back years happy service in a kilted regiment had left amark which time has not effaced. 

A very cordial reception from General Capper set me at my ease; whilstBrig. -General Ruggles Brise, to whose Brigade I was attached, and towhose kindness and courtesy I owe much, assured me of the good will ofthe powers that be. The General posted me to the 20th Brigade--a nobleappointment indeed; for such troops as the Grenadier Guards, ScotsGuards, Gordon Highlanders and Border Regiment were good enough for anyman. 

The Parade Services I held while at Lyndhurst were an inspiration. Theprayer card issued by the Chaplain-General was greatly appreciated byofficers and men. I arranged for the distribution of 15, 000 of them inthe Division, and they were eagerly accepted by all from the Generalsdownwards. On many an occasion in the after days I came across thesecards tucked away in the lining of the caps of dead and wounded men. Nothing can exceed the beautiful simplicity of the prayer, a copy ofwhich I venture to insert:--

A SOLDIER'S PRAYER. 

 Almighty and most Merciful Father, Forgive me my sins: Grant me thy peace: Give me thy power: Bless me in life and death, For Jesus Christ's sake. 

 Amen. 

 (On the reverse side. )

 Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, As it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; But deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, The power, and the glory, For ever and ever. 

 Amen. 

The other Chaplains of the Division were:--

 Church of England: The Rev. Hon. T. George Maurice Peel, 21st Brigade. 

 Presbyterian: The Rev. W. Stevenson Jaffray. 

 Roman Catholic: The Rev. Father Moth. 

It was on October 4 when my wife, daughter and myself were about totake tea with Captain Douglas of the Staff--alas! now dead--and hiswife, that he hurriedly rode out of the 'Crown' saying, 'The order hascome to stand by. ' The news was welcome, for we were growing weary ofwaiting. Immediately the troops began to move off; the unit to which Iwas attached--23rd Field Ambulance which served the 20th Brigade--leftat 2. 45 a. M. , reaching Southampton about six. It is of interest to notethat a Division of troops of over 15, 000 men makes a brave show upon theroad, its length from the van to the rear being not less than twelvemiles. 

Apparently the cheering folk along the road passed a sleepless night, for at every hamlet and village people lined the road, waving us theirfarewells; and from many a cottage window kindly faces could be seensilhouetted against the light of the room, cheering us onward withhearty words. 

The embarkation at Southampton was a busy scene, and took many hours toaccomplish, but finally fourteen huge transports got under way, andsteamed up Channel for Dover. There we 'stood off and on' until 9 p. M. On October 6, when picking up our pilot we steamed out into the Down inthe quiet of the autumn night. 

The names of the officers who composed the mess of the 23rd FieldAmbulance were: Major Crawford (now Lieut. -Colonel), Major Brown, Captain Wright, Lieut. McCutcheon, Lieut. Mackay, Lieut. Hart, Lieut. Priestly, Lieut. Wedd, Lieut. Beaumont, Lieut. Jackson (quartermaster), Col. The Rev. W. Stevenson Jaffray, and the writer; on the whole a verycheery, hard-working set of officers, whose work met with highappreciation of Head-quarters, in due course. 

Many conjectures were on foot as to our destination, but when we foundthe course was north-east, we knew that France was out of the question, and Belgium loomed large in our imagination. 

The scene was an eerie one as the black hulls of the vessels movedquietly over the placid sea, with a protective squadron of torpedodestroyers surrounding us. It was sufficiently risky to give a piquanceto the experience. 

The Admiralty had laid mines from the Goodwin Sands to the Belgiumcoast, and it was a remarkable feat of pilotage which took the wholefleet through this mine zone in safety to its destination. The navalofficer who acted as pilot to the _Victorian_, on which I was aboard, informed me the next morning that it had been the most anxious night ofhis life, and I can well understand it, for the responsibility upon aman, under such circumstances, was a heavy one. 

Coming on deck in the early hours of the following morning I saw thelow-lying Belgium coast bathed in sunlight; Zeebrugge lying a couple ofmiles to the east. It was with a very thankful heart that I realizedthat the first risky stage of our movement towards the Front was over. 

In due course we warped in alongside of the massive Mole at Zeebrugge;and admired the huge proportions of a quay, which I understood had beenbuilt by the Germans. Large as it was, there was not sufficient room forall the fleet of transports, so half the Division landed at Ostend andjoined us later. 

The landing scene was stirring, and full of interest. All sorts oftroops were mixed together in apparently inextricable confusion;Guardsmen, Highlanders, Linesmen, Sappers, Gunners, Cavalry and theubiquitous A. S. C. Were moving about in the keen delight of being on thesoil that they had come to free from the oppressor; but the miracle ofmilitary order and discipline soon evolved order out of chaos; and thewhole column moved off for its nine or ten mile trek to Bruges. 

With elastic step and cheery voice the men swung along to the inspiringstrains of 'Tipperary. ' The road was typical of Belgium; the long avenueof poplar trees, flanked by broad ditches, being the distinguishingfeature of this and most Belgium roads (the centre being composed ofcobbles, with macadam tracks on either side). Every one felt keen, andthe horses, fresh from forty-eight hours' confinement in their veryclose quarters between decks, enjoyed the freedom as much as the men. 

On reaching Bruges, which was in total darkness, owing to the fear ofenemy aeroplanes, we received our instructions to proceed to an outlyingsuburb of the city; and presently drew up in a field, bounded by housesof the humbler description. The early morning was distinctly autumnal, and a ration of biscuit, bully beef and steaming hot tea was not to bedespised. Late though it was, many people were about, occupyingthemselves by gazing, half in wonderment and half in admiration, at thefirst visit of khaki to their neighbourhood. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This brilliant officer was killed in action at the end of September, 1915. 

THE TREK THROUGH BELGIUM

CHAPTER II

THE TREK THROUGH BELGIUM

My first experience of billeting was sufficient to prove the veryarbitrary character of the whole proceeding. Imagine some one hundredand fifty men, and twelve officers, suddenly appearing in a smalloutlying street of the far-famed Belgian city, at the untimely hour of 4a. M. , and all clamouring for a night's lodging. To begin with, it wasnot an easy matter to arouse the slumbering people; and the billetingparty had to wait long before each door, ere slippered feet were heardalong passages, and drowsy voices inquired suspiciously as to ourbusiness; then appeared more or less clad figures, who gazed anxiouslyat the cloaked men standing at the door (for the Germans lay at the backof every mind). However, the talismanic charm of 'Englishmen' didwonders. It was 4. 30 a. M. Before I tumbled into an extremely comfortablebed, and had barely laid my head upon the pillow--so it seemed--when agreat knocking at the door aroused me with a start from vivid dreams ofhome, as an orderly entered the room with the alarming statement thatthe column was moving off in ten minutes. It was seven o'clock, and Ifelt inclined for another twelve hours in bed; there were no ablutionsthat morning. A flying leap into my clothes; a most indiscriminatepacking of my valise, which I left my servant struggling with, in aninexperienced attempt to roll it up correctly, and I swallowed a cup ofcoffee which my kind hostess had provided for me (why is coffee alwaysso hot when one is in a hurry?), and I mounted my horse in the nick oftime to fall in with my column as it moved off. 

It was a long weary march over a very flat country, intersected withdykes, and only broken by the ubiquitous poplar trees; and one had ampletime to think, and sometimes doze, as we marched along on ourtwenty-five mile trek. At the midday halt, a little diversion enlivenedthe proceedings in the shape of pulling two bogged horses out of anarrow cut where they had been 'watered. ' We managed with the help ofropes and planks to get the poor brutes on to terra firma again, moredead than alive. 

Then on and on, hour after hour, halting ten minutes each hour for aneeded breather and rest, until Ostend hove in sight. Visions of acomfortable billet rose before one's luxurious mind, but no such luck;right through the city we marched, finding the station square crammedwith terror-stricken and most wretched-looking refugees; until, somefour miles out, we lighted upon the most filthy and forsaken place to befound on the map of civilization--Steene. The houses were so vile andmalodorous, that it was with great reluctance the O. C. Allowed the mento enter. By this time it was very dark and very cold, and it was withpurely animal instinct that we found the way to our mouths in thedarkness, and tried to make believe that we enjoyed the biscuit andbully beef which formed our rations. 

Then came the somewhat important question of where to sleep. I deemedmyself among the fortunate in securing a stretcher, and dossed in atransport wagon; a tired man might have a worse bed than that, and Islept the sleep of the weary and, as I would fain hope, of therighteous. 

The following morning, as it seemed likely that we should remain atSteene for at least another day, I cast round for something morecomfortable in the way of a billet, and had secured three rooms at theworthy Burgomaster's for the O. C. , Mr. Jaffray and myself, and was aboutto enjoy a more or less comfortable tea in the open, when an orderlyrode up with orders to trek back to Bruges. 

In a few minutes the camp was struck, and once more we moved on. I feltthat I could enter into the spirit of the well-known refrain--

 The brave old Duke of York, He had ten thousand men. He marched them up to the top of a hill, And he marched them down again. And when they were up, they were up; And when they were down, they were down: And when they were half-way up the hill, They were neither up or down. 

As we retraced our steps through Ostend, we found a large and acclaimingcrowd lining the route. As I rode just behind the Gordons, who weremarching with their usual swinging step, I was amused to hear a Belgianwoman ask her friend, 'And who are those?' pointing to the Highlanders. 'Oh, ' was the reply, 'those are the wives of the English soldiers. ' Thegay Gordons were greatly incensed on my setting before them their newstatus. 

In the centre of the city I came across my friend Peel (padré of the22nd Brigade; he has since won a military cross, and gained theuniversal love of his men by his gallant conduct and splendid ministry). He had somehow or other lost his Brigade, and being thus stranded, hadslung his batman up behind him on his horse and was proceeding withunruffled dignity in the direction of the line of march. 

It was late at night and raining as it seldom rains in dear old England, when we splashed ankle deep in water, over the cobbled streets ofBruges, the stones being too slippery to permit of riding. Hungry andtired we slouched along, until we came to the Monastery of St. Xavier, at St. Michel, some two miles out of the city. Never shall I forget thekindness extended to us by the lay brothers; especially one, BrotherSylvester. I hope if these lines should ever reach his eye, that he willaccept the grateful thanks of those who benefited by the charitablegoodness of the Order, and especially his own. 

The men were speedily billeted in sweet straw, laid down in the upperdormitories of the building; whilst the hundred and twenty horses werestalled in the spacious stables; and beds provided for the officers inthe dormitories. But what was better still, after the men had beenattended to (and this is the invariable rule, men first) we regaledourselves upon tea and bread and butter in the bakehouse, where, infront of the huge fire, we toasted our benumbed extremities and driedour sodden clothing. After such a night's rest, as only comes tofagged-out men, we awoke to a golden-tinted autumn morning, whichbrought to us the joy of living; and once more we felt ready for theonward trek. I have since learned that the Division was originallydestined to relieve Antwerp, but the sudden fall of the city set theenemy free to march on Calais; and so the Seventh Division, with theThird Cavalry Division, under Sir Julian Byng, the whole commanded bySir Henry Rawlinson, was sent post haste to intercept his advance in theneighbourhood of Ypres. And thus the small force of under thirtythousand men pressed on to the heroic task of holding up the main bodyof the enemy; not less than two hundred and forty thousand men. 

Later on I shall have something to say about the prolonged encounterwhich is historically known as the 'first battle of Ypres. ' Butmeantime it may be of interest to my readers to give an outline of ourrapid trek through Belgium. 

Leaving our hospitable quarters at Bruges, the column, which seemedinterminable, marched to Beernem. At this place I was fortunate enough, with my brother chaplain, Mr. Jaffray, through the forethought of Mr. Peel, to secure a bed. The accommodation was rough, and the littleestaminet was crowded with officers, who were only too thankful to sleepon any floor where there was a chance of putting down a valise. Iparticularly remember this billet, for I thought that I had a chance ofdistinguishing myself by capturing a spy. Orders had been issued, stating that a certain 'Captain Walker, ' posing as a R. A. M. C. Officer, was visiting our troops, and picking up stray crumbs of information;should such a person be encountered he was to be immediately arrested. Ihad just turned in, when amid the babel of conversation which came fromdownstairs, I caught the name 'Walker. ' Slipping quietly down the ladderwhich served as a staircase, I listened for a moment or two at the door, and from what I heard, gathered that I had spotted my man; and suddenlyappearing as an apparition in pyjamas, I inquired in somewhat stentoriantones which was Captain Walker? A rosy-cheeked subaltern somewhatsheepishly admitted that he was Lieut. Walker, and I found my hopesdashed to the ground. This was not my only encounter with spies, supposed or real, of which more anon. 

A morning stay at Beernem enabled me to improvise a Parade Service, itbeing Sunday; which was apparently heartily joined in by thoseattending. The opportunities for such work by chaplains on the trek arefew and far between, and it is a question of

 Seizing the current when it serves, Or losing our ventures. 

Leaving Beernem, our route led us through Wynghene. It was here I seizedthe opportunity of displaying my undoubted ability as mess president, towhich post I had been appointed. At the midday halt in this village, Iwas anxiously looking about for bread, eggs, vegetables or any othercommodity which would embellish the festal board of the mess, and thuswin the gratitude of my always hungry brother officers, when, through anopen door, I caught sight of fowls in a backyard. I promptly jumped offmy horse, and entered into negotiations with the owners of the chickenrun, which speedily resulted in the decapitated corpses of three plumpfowls being slung from my saddle. Amid the envy of the column, I proudlyrode down to the transport of my unit with my spoil, the result beingthat in a short time not a fowl remained alive in the village; and thatnight every mess was redolent with the delicious scent of roast fowl. 

Our next billet was at Eeghem, where a stone kitchen floor was theutmost we could secure for the officers, after having bedded the men inbarns on luxurious beds of sweet straw. In the early morning, in companywith Mr. Peel, I enjoyed a brief stroll in the neighbourhood. In thecourse of our walk we passed one of those small wayside chapels, whichare dotted here and there all over Belgium; not larger than some eightfeet square, it offered all the facilities that we needed for prayer andquiet thought. 

As we approached Roulers, we found the town alive with people who hadassembled to welcome that which they regarded as an army of deliverancefrom the dreaded Germans. 

After billeting the officers with considerable difficulty--for naturallypeople at times resented the intrusion of hungry and travel-stained meninto their spic and span houses--I secured a most comfortable room formyself in the house of an old widow lady; one of those charming oldworld persons who are occasionally met with on life's journey, and who, by their innate courtesy and sympathy, accentuate the oneness of thehuman family. When a country is under martial law one cannot, of course, take 'no' for an answer in applying for a billet, and therefore, in thecase of Belgium, one made the demand with the authority of 'in theking's name, ' which invariably brought about the desired result. My dearold hostess could not do enough for me; with quavering accents sheremarked, 'Thank God you English have come, for now we feel safe. ' Imust confess I felt very much of a hypocrite, for I knew that the enemywas pursuing us in hot haste. Indeed, a few hours afterwards theymarched into the city, which they have held ever since. 

As we pressed on to Ypres, via Zonnebec, our route ran alongside of therailway, and it was a stirring sight to see the naval armoured traindash along, seeking for a pot shot at the enemy who was not far distant, the sailors forming the crew regarding the work as a sporting venture. 

The first view of Ypres was glorious. As we marched through the greatsquare in front of the Cloth Hall, I was struck with the mediæval aspectof the place. The gabled houses carried one's imagination into the longago; whilst the glorious Cloth Hall of the eleventh century, backed upby the equally fine cathedral of similar age, presented a picture noteasily to be forgotten. Alas! when I next saw it, the place was a heapof crumbling ruins. 

The Germans had passed through the city four days before we arrived; andaccording to their wont, had helped themselves very liberally to whatthey fancied. Many of the shopkeepers were loud in their complaints ofthe shameful manner in which they had been robbed. 

I was able to secure most excellent billets for the mess in the house ofMonsieur and Madame Angillis. These good people were in a state ofconsiderable fear, for, not only had they two sons fighting in theBelgian army, one of whom had been wounded, but as the owners ofconsiderable property in the city and the neighbourhood, they wereanxious as to what the future would bring. Their worst fears have beenrealized, and I am afraid they are among the great mass of sufferers inunhappy Belgium. Their daughter was rendering splendid service in theBelgian Red Cross, and proved a great help in directing me to woundedBritish soldiers, who might otherwise have been lost sight of. 

By this time fighting was in full swing, and our men had thrown up thefirst line of trenches in semi-circular form, some six or seven miles tothe east of the town. 

Very soon the wounded and German prisoners made their appearance, anddoctors and chaplains were busily engaged. Most of the prisoners had avery scared look, for we learned afterwards that they had been told thatwe cut our prisoners' throats, or shot them out of hand, and their joywas great at finding even their personal belongings restored to them. 

I was much struck with the characteristic behaviour of 'Tommy Atkins' tothese men; even to the extent of sharing his rations with them, andhanding out his 'fags, ' which was an act of real self-denial. 

I owe my grateful thanks to one Uhlan, whose saddle fell to my lot, andwhich I henceforth used, and regarded as one of the most comfortable Ihave ever ridden on. 

A singularly unfortunate case came under my notice among the first batchof wounded brought in. An officer of the 'Borders' in the dead ofnight, hearing as he thought a German advance, left his trench toreconnoitre, and after a fruitless search was returning to his men inthe thick early morning mist, when a sentinel, ignorant of his havinggone out, shot him as he approached the trenches. The poor chap wasbadly hit in the lungs, and made a brave struggle for life, but alas!died a few hours afterwards. 

The Divisional Head-quarters being established at Ypres, my unit movedout to its Brigade, which occupied the line of trenches in theneighbourhood of Zandvoorde. 

Arriving at our position in the dusk of a quickly parting day, we foundourselves actually posted in front of the firing line. Disagreeable asthe experience was, there was nothing for it but to stick it. In a woodclose by, the enemy had machine guns, supported by a body of Uhlans. Disturbing sniping took place at intervals through the night, whichrendered the bivouac unpleasant in the extreme. We slept on the groundbetween the wagons; and under the circumstances I felt it wise to keepas low down as possible, as 'fire' is in no sense discriminating. 

Our Brigade Head-quarters were at Kruiseck, to which place I rode earlyone morning with our Major, to inspect farmhouses, with a view toarranging Field Dressing Stations. Later in the day calling atHead-quarters to inquire if there were any funerals requiring myattention, I found the whole place in extreme excitement; Uhlans wereadvancing in force. Every hedgerow and wall was lined with our men; thescared inhabitants, utterly unnerved by shell fire, were fleeing fromthe place. Their appearance was heartrending, and revealed theunutterable horror of war as carried into the midst of a peacefulpopulation. 

My ride back to my unit in the gloaming was sufficiently adventurous toplease the most reckless man, owing to the proximity of the Uhlans, andgave a zest not often met with to the three or four miles which had tobe traversed. Never did I strain my eyes more eagerly, and somewhatafter the fashion of Jehu of yore I made my way along the deserted trackinto a place of comparative safety. 

From the neighbourhood of Zandvoorde my unit was hurriedly moved toGheluvelt, which was then threatened by a German force approaching fromthe direction of Bercelaire. 

Here the whole population was in a state of indescribable anxiety andfear, which it was impossible to remove, for the shells were moreconvincing than any arguments we could bring to bear. 

Our Head-quarters were established at a Xaverian Brotherhood; thesuperior of which--a dear old gentleman--did his utmost to ensure ourcomfort. It was weary work hanging about all day awaiting results. Towards evening I thought it wise to get a sleep, and so turned in aboutfive o'clock. During these days of constant anxiety, owing to theproximity of the enemy, we seldom or never removed our clothes, --I hadnot had mine off for over a week at that time--thus we were ready forany emergency, at any time. 

From the village of Gheluvelt we moved on a mile nearer to Ypres, wherewe billeted in the Chateau de Gheluvelt, from which the owner (MonsieurPeerebone) and his family had evidently departed in great haste. Finelysituated in a well wooded park, the house was most splendidly equippedin every respect. The pictures, statuary and furniture were in keepingwith the outward appearance of the place. It was interesting to noticethe different manner of dealing with other people's property in voguewith the British, in contrast with the German method; so rigid was ourO. C. That not even a vegetable was allowed to be taken from thewell-stocked walled garden, close by the mansion; a sentry being placedto prevent any hungry 'Tommy' gratifying his desire in that quarter. 

Towards evening a general engagement took place, and there was veryheavy shelling. Several shells struck the house, but none of us wereinjured. On the following morning I was called to an advanced outpost ofthe Scots Guards, to bury Sergeant Wilson, of Lord Esmé Gordon'sCompany. On reaching the line I found the Battalion about to advanceinto action in extended order, and the man had been hurriedly buried. Onmy way back I joined Captain Hamilton Wedderburn, Adjutant, who had beenordered to the rear suffering from appendicitis. I had met thisofficer's father, Colonel Hamilton, who resided in my neighbourhood athome. 

During the night several wounded men came in, and the large salonpresented a weird appearance as the doctors attended the suffering men. No cooking was allowed, and all windows were carefully curtained, inorder not to draw the fire of the enemy, who were in very unpleasantproximity to the house. I well remember next morning, because theGermans had got the range to a nicety, and the otherwise enjoyable placewas rendered unbearable by the crash of shells. So unhealthy grew theposition, that the transport was moved a mile away; but we who composedthe tent section remained to deal with any men who were brought in. Itis astonishing how quickly one grows accustomed to 'fire, ' and a veryshort experience enabled us to go about our work, under riskycircumstances, in the most ordinary manner. 

The nights at this time were very dark, and at several points we couldsee burning farm homesteads and villages, which to the thoughtful minddenoted the awful destruction and suffering envolved by the ghastlyoutrage upon humanity, being perpetrated by the enemy. 

We left the château very suddenly, owing to heavy shelling. Some of ourmen were hit, and two of our 'mess' had horses killed under them, butotherwise we managed to get clear from a decidedly dangerous position. That night it was pitch dark, and we halted on the roadside, some two orthree miles west of Gheluvelt. It was pouring with rain as we ate ourmeal of cold rations; we could not even enjoy a comforting smoke, as thelighting of a match would have been certain to draw the fire of ourvigilant foe. Mr. Jaffray and I both agreed that a night's lodging in adamp ditch was hardly consonant with our wishes, and therefore we setout for the hamlet of Halte, where the railway crosses the road, inhopes that we might find cover of some sort. 

Leading our horses very cautiously along the road, for sentinels wereposted in every direction, and at such 'nervy' times men frequently firebefore they challenge, we made our way to a small estaminet which wefound crammed with French soldiers. I pleaded hard for even a chair, butthe proprietor assured me of the impossibility of offering even thisvery slender hospitality. I was fortunate to meet MacKenzie, theTransport officer of the Scots Guards, who introduced me to a Frenchofficer, who in turn interested the landlady's daughter in our forlorncondition. This kind angel of mercy informed me that her married sisterlived at a farm near by, and she thought that there was a bedroom thatMr. Jaffray and I might make use of. Accordingly, holding my reins inone hand and my fair guide's hand in the other, I was led through pitchdarkness for some distance, and presently found myself in a huge Belgianfarm kitchen, crammed with French soldiers and smelling horribly ofgarlic. Yes! the farmer could let us have his bedroom for the night, ata small remuneration, as he and his wife had decided to stay up;accordingly, we were shown into an exceedingly small room, some eightfeet square, in which was a bed the covering of which made one shudderto look at; but any port in a storm; and we accordingly doubled up thebest way we could on a bed some two feet too short for us. As we vainlytried to fall asleep, my batman suddenly turned up, --how he found ourquarters will always be a mystery to me--with the news that the columnhad moved off to some place which he could not pronounce. I showed himmy map and asked him if he recognized any name in the locality, butfinding that he was as much at sea as to the destination of the unit asI was, I determined that it was useless to attempt to explore that partof Belgium in the darkness of a soaking night; so stowing my servantaway in the corner of the kitchen, we did our best to get a few hours'sleep. In the first grey of the dawn we arose and ate a little blackbread and very salt bacon, washed down with some execrable coffee, thenleading our horses out of the cowhouse in which we had installed themthe night before, and from which we had had to turn out a couple of veryevil-smelling beasts, we sallied forth to the apparently hopeless taskof discovering the direction in which the column had moved. One'sdeductive faculty had to be drawn upon largely. Presently we foundourselves at Zillebeke, where we were held up by the NorthumberlandHussars, who came by in splendid order on their way to entering action. Standing by my side was a Staff officer who had dismounted from his car, awaiting the passage of the cavalry. I explained to him our difficulty, and he said that he rather thought our unit was with the 10th Hussarsat Zandvoorde, some four miles away, and very kindly offered me a lift. My horse had contracted a terrible cold and was hardly fit to ride, soplacing him in charge of my batman, I arranged to drive on in the car, leaving Mr. Jaffray and my servant to follow. The friendly officerturned out to be Lord Nairne, who was, unfortunately, killed a few daysafterwards. 

On reaching the village of Zandvoorde, I encountered a terrible sight. The enemy was approaching from two sides, and shelling hard. The placewas a slaughter-house; never have I seen so ghastly a sight. Thedoctors, with their coats off and shirt sleeves rolled up, looked morelike butchers than medical men, and for an hour or two I found my handsfull in the saddest of all work, dealing with dying men. 

As I was eating a hasty breakfast--for in campaigning one learns thevalue of sleeping and eating whenever a chance presents itself--theO. C. Came to me saying that some one must get through to Ypres, to stopthe transport that was about to come out, and also to warn the major ofthe serious condition of affairs at Zandvoorde. Would I go? Such anopportunity of doing 'a real bit' only comes now and again, therefore itwas not difficult to decide. 

I had a foretaste of what I was presently to pass through, as, sittingon the doorstep of a cottage, I was changing into riding boots, out ofthe heavy Swiss climbing boots that I had been wearing, and whichthreatened to be awkward in the stirrups, if by any chance I was thrown, a not unlikely event under fire, when a shrapnel burst some twenty feetfrom me, with an explosion which almost lifted me from the ground. Thedoor before which I sat, and the front of the cottage, were liberallystudded with bullets and pieces of the casing, but in a mostprovidential manner I was untouched. Very quickly I completed my changeof boots, and got my kit-bag once more stowed away in a transport wagon. Strictest orders had been given that no kits were to be removed from thewagon, and I hope that the O. C. , if ever he discovers my delinquency, will take into consideration the urgency of my desire to fulfilinstructions in the carrying of his orders into Ypres. 

For three miles, right over 'Hill 60, ' I had the ride of my life. Shellswere bursting in every direction, but my good horse struggled on gamely. By this time he had come to know the import of the shrieking whistlewhich betokens the approach of a shell, but he displayed no more concernthan a momentary quiver as it burst. As for me I could only place myselfin God's hands, and well remember how, as each shell approached, Irepeated that comforting word from Isaiah xxvi. 3, 'Thou wilt keep himin perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth inthee. ' Over and over again I repeated 'because he trusteth in thee. ' Andthen bang! bang! and once more the danger was past. 

The road was crowded with terrified people, literally fleeing for theirlives, and as I got out of the range of fire, I tried to comfort them inthe best way I could. 

Reaching Ypres I delivered my message, and then sank down and fell intoa deep sleep for four hours. I suppose it was a kind of reaction fromthe nervous strain. 

I found Ypres crammed with wounded men, and worked hard there for thenext day or two. Many were the distressing cases that came under myattention. 

It was on October 23 that I received my first batch of letters fromhome, and the first opportunity I stole away into a quiet corner andenjoyed myself to my heart's content. 

Those were wonderful days, in which all sorts and conditions of men, from officers of the Household Troops downwards, passed through myhands. Of course there were many funerals to conduct, and in connexionwith the funeral arrangements and the system of tabulating I came muchinto contact with Major the Hon. ----. Collins, one of the most charmingand courteous of men. 

On October 31--that fateful day, when it seemed impossible for the thinline of khaki to further withstand the tremendous onslaught of the enemywhich had placed the Prussian Guard in its front line--the sad duty ofburying young Prince Maurice of Battenburg fell to my lot. It was astrange coincidence, for I had met him in bygone years when he was abright, attractive boy. Such a task awakened the greatest interest inmy heart, for sad as the ceremony was, I keenly felt the privilege ofrendering this last act of tender duty to a young prince so universallybeloved. One of his men, in relating the manner of his heroic death, afterwards said to me, 'I loved him, sir, as a brother. ' The funeral, which was attended by Prince Arthur of Connaught and several Generals, took place under heavy fire. So continuous indeed was the roar of theshells, that an officer, writing to the papers some time after, relatedthat it was impossible to distinguish the chaplain's voice. The servicewas therefore necessarily brief, and at its conclusion the crowd ofofficers quickly dispersed. 

An order had been issued for a withdrawal from the Front, and the Meninroad into Ypres was blocked with troops and transport. 

A short time previous to this I had the misfortune to be somewhatseriously injured, for my horse--frightened or struck by a shell whichburst near by, I have never been able to determine which, --fell heavilyon me, severely crushing my left leg. I had been taken in a Staff car tothe 6th casualty clearing station and attended to, but the injured limbgrew steadily worse. In the course of the afternoon, to my great joy, the 23rd Field Ambulance passed me on its way from Hooge, and I waspromptly placed on an ambulance wagon, on which I trekked through Ypres;until we reached Dickebusch, some three miles on the south of the city. 

As we halted for a time at the square at Ypres, a young officer, seeingme in the ambulance, came up with a cheery 'Hallo, padré! what's up?Last time I saw you was in your pulpit at St. John's, Boscombe; life's afunny game, isn't it?'

Such interviews are of frequent occurrence at the Front, where livesmomentarily touch, and then, possibly, for ever separate. 

Lying on a stone floor of a deserted cottage in Dickebusch that night, Ipassed one of the most painful, wretched and sleepless nights of mylife. My brother officers were all snoring comfortably, when suddenly aknock at the door placed me on the alert. My first thought was that theGermans had got through, accordingly I made no reply; presently a gruffvoice said, 'An orderly, sir, ' and I cried out, 'Come in. ' He hadbrought a dispatch to say that the whole German line had been forcedback, and that the Ambulance was immediately to take up its old positionon the farther side of Hooge. 

In a very short time an early breakfast was quickly disposed of and thecolumn was ready to move off. 

The O. C. , finding me utterly incapacitated by reason of my injuries, decided that I must go into hospital, for wounded men are not much usein a life where a man's fullest powers are daily called for. 

Fortunately, at that moment, Colonel Swan, A. D. M. S. , and Lieut. -ColonelGuy Moores, D. A. D. M. S. , came up in their car, and learning my condition, very kindly brought me and my kit into Ypres; saying that I must proceedto the Base. 

Accordingly I was deposited at Ypres station, where the R. T. O. Mostkindly had me cared for in his office. 

During the long hours of Sunday, November 1, I spent a miserable timewaiting for the hospital train to start. In the course of the day, anofficer in my Brigade, Lord Bury, had a chat with me, and committed tome an urgent telegram for his wife. In the course of the morning he hadbeen arrested as a spy; and seemed very amused at the uncommonexperience. At 6 p. M. I was placed on the train, and with some two orthree other fellow sufferers, gradually rolled away from the sound offire, which for three weeks past had been the daily accompaniment ofone's life. 

I cannot speak too highly of the great care and solicitude bestowed uponthe wounded in the train. For the first time one came into touch withthose splendid women, literally angels of mercy, the nursing sisters. Never shall I cease to remember their loving care, and the skilful wayin which they bandaged up my crushed leg. 

It was a long journey. Leaving Ypres at 6 p. M. On Sunday night, wedidn't reach Boulogne until 3 p. M. On the Monday afternoon, a distanceof not more than eighty miles. 

On reaching the Base I was informed that I was to be sent to England, ona hospital ship about to leave. Accordingly, with some twenty or thirtyother officers, and a large number of men, we were conveyed to theambulance, through a dense crowd of sympathizing French people. 

I have certainly never seen such a collection of scarecrows as wepresented to the public gaze; and in much pain though we were, we couldnot help being struck with the ludicrousness of our condition. Bespattered with mud; filthy in appearance; beards of several days'growth; legs of trousers, and sleeves of coats cut away; bandaged andbloody; we must have presented a truly remarkable sight. 

On the hospital ship, the _Carisbroke Castle_, the arrangements wereperfect. It was almost worth being injured to lie in such a comfortablebed; and the food was beyond description of delight. 

On board, every case was speedily dealt with by medical men, andeverything done to ensure the comfort of the sufferers. 

Whilst the life at the Front is exceedingly rigorous and claims theutmost of one's strength, and the word and act of sympathy does not comemuch to the surface of men's lives, yet, when once a man is bowled over, a careful country certainly does its best to alleviate his suffering. 

On reaching Southampton the following morning, finding that I lived inthe area of a military hospital (The Royal Victoria and West Hants), ofwhich I have been chaplain for many years, the senior officer, as agreat concession, very kindly allowed me to be sent home. 

Home! Do those who always live in the blessed shelter of this sweetspot, really know the fulness and sweetness of 'home. ' Truly the Englishclassic song, 'Home, sweet Home, there is no place like Home, ' comeswith a new, full, deep meaning to men who have passed through the ordealof fire. 

Bed claimed my presence for many a weary day, and it was March 16before a Medical Board permitted me to resume my duties with theBritish Expeditionary Force. My further experience of service must berelated in the subsequent chapter on 'Life at the Base. '

THE WELCOME OF A PEOPLE

CHAPTER III

THE WELCOME OF A PEOPLE

There was no mistaking the enthusiastic welcome accorded to the SeventhDivision, as it moved south through the well cultivated country, thriving villages, and prosperous towns of Belgium. 

Already the deeds of German 'kultur' had reached the ears of theinhabitants; indeed, many of those who had fled from the barbarous enemybore signs of the gross ill-treatment inflicted by the 'kultured' foe, in furtherance of the advice of General Bernhardi and others to carry'terror' into the hearts of the invaded people. And nearly all of themhad some dread story to relate, of wanton destruction to public andprivate property, and of vile wrongs perpetrated upon an unoffendingpeople. Small wonder that they welcomed us; for Great Britain meant moreto them than the name of a powerful nation; it rather conveyed the ideaof the strong, active principles of liberty and justice, which they feltwere about to be set free in their unhappy country. 

In contradistinction to the Germans, this people of a small countryseemed to unconsciously uphold the marked differentiation between thelaws of might and right, as exhibited by the two nationalities, Germanyand Belgium. 

Germany, the former land of light and learning, has gradually slippeddownwards from her high ideals. A sure and sad process of religious andmoral declension has ensued; until, under the baneful influences ofNietzsche, Treitschke, Bernhardi, and their like, the land of thereformation has become the land of militarism, employing forces withoutjustice, discipline without pity, and annexation without consideration. 

All this lies at the back of the mind of the best part of Europe to-day, and more especially of Belgium. 

Belgium is a Christian country. The religious houses have the words ofScripture prominently inscribed upon them. On one house of a ReligiousOrder I saw painted, 'All for God. ' On the cross roads there isfrequently found a life-size crucifix, which points its wondrousteaching to many a weary soul. 

A valued friend of mine, --an officer in a kilted regiment--writing homea short time ago described his sensations, as, emerging from the bloodyruck of his first engagement, he presently found himself, worn andspent, gazing at the figure of the Crucified One. And as he verybeautifully said, 'Jesus came afresh into my heart. '

Again, one has not to travel far along any main road withoutencountering a small shrine, open day and night, for those who desireto draw aside from the ordinary pursuits of strenuous life, and enjoyprayer to God; and that almost lost art, meditation. 

Thus we see a striking contrast between the conquerors and theconquered, exhibited in the ruthless invasion to which Belgium has beensubjected. Roman Catholics as they are, the Belgians whom I met--and Iconversed with many--seemed to realize that England, Protestant England, is honestly striving to exhibit 'the righteousness that alone exalteththe nation. '

It was in a state of the deepest gratitude, based upon such principlesas I have set forth, that the people flocked to receive us. True, attimes they revealed their feelings in very unorthodox fashion. Forexample, I remember at a midday halt one day, while the men stoodpreparatory to breaking off, an ecstatic Belgian girl rushed up to a'Tommy, ' and flinging her arms round his neck, kissed him warmly. I haveno doubt that on occasion the man could have returned the salute withinterest, but the suddenness and the publicity of the attack renderedhim both speechless and powerless. There he stood blushing like a schoolgirl; the while his comrades urged him to retaliate. He bore himselflike a martyr; but when a man immediately afterwards proceeded to kisshim on both cheeks, --as foreigners often do--then 'Tommy' recovered hismental equilibrium; and his language, well! it was more forcible thanelegant. 

A far more pathetic welcome fell to my lot, as I walked across thesquare at Ypres, in the early days of the British occupancy. Whiletalking to a brother officer, I suddenly felt my hand seized, kissed, and then stroked; and looking down, I saw a sweet little blue-eyed maidof some five years, not much above the level of the bottom of my tunicin height, who said in the prettiest broken English, 'Brave Ingleese. 'The memory of a certain other blue-eyed kiddy, away in England, was toomuch for me, and this time _I_ was the aggressor, for I took the littlemaid up in my arms and kissed her, much to the amusement of thepassers-by I have no doubt. 

Nothing seemed too good for the people to offer us. In our billets, indeed, the very best the house could produce was set before us. 

As we marched through one town--I think it was Wynghene, which wasevidently the centre of the tobacco industry, for tobacco is largelygrown in that part of Belgium--thousands of cigars were handed to thecolumn, and for days after the men would not look at the humble 'fag. 'In country districts, too, the people were not to be outdone, forstrapping farm wenches and men lined the road and literally showeredapples and pears upon us. 

At the gates of one fine park, the owner, his wife and servants bestowedcigarettes, matches and other acceptable gifts upon the men as theymarched past. Oh, yes! those were brave days, and made us feelconsiderably pleased with ourselves, but do not grudge us such joys, forjust below the horizon of that time dark clouds were fast rising, whichsoon darkened the skies of many and many a life. Anyhow, I willundertake to say that none who were on that trek will ever forget theenthusiasm of the people, as day by day we marched on to do battle forthem, and the great principles which surely have made our nationgreat. 

A CHAPTER OF INCIDENTS

CHAPTER IV

A CHAPTER OF INCIDENTS

Life at the Front cannot fail to be full of stirring incidents; indeed, I very much question whether any experience comes up to it for interestand excitement. I am not speaking of the ding-dong trench warfare whichhas characterized the campaign on the Western front for so many monthspast, but refer more particularly to those early days when both armieswere exceedingly active; and the operations very much resembled a gameof chess, with not too long an interval between the moves. 

In the early days of the war in Flanders, the times were wondrouslystirring; one never knew where an attack would be launched, and whatwould happen next. With such huge and mobile opposing forces in front ofus, every day had some fresh surprise in store. 'From early morning tilldewy eve' we lived on the tiptoe of expectation; for, indeed, the earlymorning carried its message, but generally of discomfort, for not theleast discomfort of a campaign is the very early hour at which reveilleis sounded, usually at five, but sometimes at four; or, in the case ofemergency, at any hour of the night. But generally it comes just as theattitude necessary to comfort has been discovered, and the somnolentindividual is ready for the luxury of what I may call a half and halfsnooze. It is at that moment, in that mysterious borderland of sleepingand waking, that the strident and compelling sound of the bugle fallsupon the unwilling ear. There is no turning over for another spell. Onecomfort is, there is always very little toilet to perform; and in a fewminutes the place is alive with dishevelled and half-awake men. Wherewater can be easily procured, cleanliness is the order of the day; andwith all our faults, one essential feature stands to the credit of theBritish soldier: he _is_ a clean man. Never does Tommy miss his wash andshave if there is half a chance of gratifying this admirable instinct. 

All visitors to the Front are struck with the glorious health andfitness of our lads. In fact, I have never seen such a collection ofhealthy manhood in my life. This is attributable in the first place tothe natural open-air life which the men lead, but in the next place tothe excellent sanitary arrangements and precautions adopted and insistedupon by the authorities, which very largely account for the remarkableimmunity from disease enjoyed by the troops. 

Behind all this, comes the most important question of 'grub. ' Thecommissariat of the British Expeditionary Force is a marvel oforganization. During the last six months of my military service Ienjoyed the advantage of travelling up and down the lines from Ypres toBethune, and everywhere I was most profoundly impressed by the marvel ofsupply. Scattered over the whole front are units, large and small, eachof which has to be fed daily; and woe to the unlucky A. S. C. Officer whois responsible for delay in forwarding or conveying rations. 'Tommy' isnothing without a good 'grouse, ' but in this respect he is not alwayslogical; bread which is stale will give him cause to grumble for hours;but he will rush into the most desperate and bloody work, and sufferuntold misery, without a murmur. 

Alluding to the masterpiece of organization, which enables our army tobe fed while in the battle front, Mr. Philip Gibbs, writing in the_Daily Chronicle_, says: 'The British soldier has at least this in hisfavour, in spite of all the horrors of war which has put his manhood tothe test, he gets his "grub" with unfailing regularity, if there is anypossible means of approach to him, and he gets enough and a bit more. Itis impossible for him to "grouse" about that element of his life on thefield. The French soldier envies him and says, --as I have heard one ofthem say--"Ma foi! our comrades feed like princes! they have even jamwith their tea! The smell of bacon comes from their trenches and touchesour nostrils with the most excellent fragrance, more beautiful than theperfume of flowers. The English eat as well as they fight, which isfuriously. "'

It may interest my readers to see what a man's daily ration consists of. This table refers to officers and men alike, for there is no differencein this respect:--

 1-1/4 lb. Fresh meat, _or_, 1 lb. Preserved meat; 1-1/4 lb. Bread; 4 oz. Bacon; 3 oz. Cheese; 4 oz. Jam; 3 oz. Sugar; 1/2 lb. Fresh vegetables, _or_, 2 oz. Dried; 5/8 oz. Tea, coffee, _or_ cocoa; 2 oz. Tobacco per week, _or_ 50 cigarettes. 

This ration is more scientifically arranged than its recipient imagines;as a matter of fact, it comprises all the essentials which go to buildup the stamina of the fighting man; and thus, well provided with freshair, good food, to say nothing of hard exercise, the animal side of Mr. Thomas Atkins is kept in the pink of condition, and he is able to facethe burdens of life which are incidental to his calling, and which arenot a few, with remarkable ease and success. 

Life at the Front is a strange compound of the grave and the gay. One ofthe most appealing features is witnessed in the sad lot of the Belgianrefugees, who, often at a moment's notice, have fled from their homes, leaving all their property to the devastation of war. I have frequentlyseen mournful processions on the road, consisting of old and young. Itis heartrending to witness the pitiable look of an aged couple, whothrough a long life have lived in some happy homestead, taking theirlast gaze at the house with its trim garden, which one knows in a fewhours will be shattered past recognition; women, sometimes in a mostdelicate condition, struggling bravely on; children crying; and the menwith set teeth and despairing faces striding on, carrying the fewarticles which they have hurriedly snatched up, as the whole family hasescaped from the hell which has so suddenly befallen them. Where arethey to go to? God only knows what becomes of them. I have seen themlining the road on a pouring wet night, outside a town already full tooverflowing with like unhappy sufferers; the while Belgian soldiers, with fixed bayonets, have prohibited any further entrance to that whichpromised a lodging place. Soldiers are not proverbially given toovermuch sensitiveness where human suffering is concerned, for a dailyintercourse with terrible scenes cannot fail to harden a man, but Ideclare that I have seen strong men burst into tears as they have gazedat one of these processions of great mental and bodily agony. 

One serious aspect of life at the Front is found in the remarkablesystem of espionage which unfortunately abounds. One lives in a constantstate of suspicion, for in this respect the enemy is as daring as he isresourceful. 

The first time I passed through Hooge we suddenly saw a homing pigeonlet out of the loft of a cottage; immediately the house was surroundedand entered. I speedily made for the back of the premises, hoping tointercept any one who had been responsible for a most suspicious act. Aboy of some eighteen years was discovered in the loft, with a largenumber of carrier pigeons, which were immediately confiscated, and theboy was arrested. I rode off to Head-quarters, some mile and a halfaway, and reported the occurrence, with the result that the boy wasmarched off for close examination. The pigeons, however, formed a veryagreeable addition to the men's menu that night. I believe the boy wasreleased; but whilst he was under arrest, a very personable andwell-dressed individual approached, and introduced himself as Count----, stating that he had known the boy for years, and that the keepingof pigeons formed his hobby. Something in the manner of the man arousedour suspicion, and after careful examination it was found that hehimself was a spy; and in due course he was shot. 

Another somewhat remarkable instance of the ramifications of this aspectof warfare occurred in a certain well-known town; one of the highofficials of which--whom I knew well--a most courteous gentleman--provedto be in close touch with the enemy. He, too, was shot. Daily there aremen, and sometimes women, who risk their lives in securing items ofinformation as to the disposition of troops, guns, etc. , which arelikely to prove of value to the enemy. Notwithstanding the strictestorders, I am afraid our men are not always wise in their intercoursewith strangers. On one occasion, very stringent orders fromHead-quarters had been read out to the men, prior to moving off in theearly morning, informing them that on no account were they to discloseany information whatsoever as to the movements or disposition oftroops; and yet, during a ten minutes' halt later in the day, as I rodeby a transport wagon, I heard the driver gassing on with refreshinginnocence, as he retailed to a civilian where we had come from; where wewere going to; where our Brigade was situated, etc. I am afraid I raisedmy voice in hot anger, and riding round to the other side of the wagonwas just in time to see the eager listener disappearing across country. It was impossible to arrest him, and the incident closed; not altogetherto the satisfaction of the thoughtless purveyor of news I imagine. 

Amid men so full of such animal life as our brave lads, it will bereadily imagined that existence is not wholly composed of shadow;indeed, few careers are so full of brightness and geniality as those ofour fighting men. 'Tommy Atkins' is a unique creation. I know not fromwhence he springs. There is something in his environment which evolveshim, I suppose; it is not a question of years of association with men ofhis like, for the New Army which has only been in being for a few monthsproduces precisely the same type; and men whom this time last year werefar removed from the very thought of soldiering, are now found topossess all the attributes and qualities--good, bad andindifferent--which formed the traditional soldier in the ranks. Hischeeriness is unbounded. For some time the pronunciation of Ypresbothered him seriously, but he soon settled the difficulty by calling it'Wypers. ' Étaples was also another stumbling block, but 'Eatables' soonrevealed Tommy's way out of another difficulty. Ploegstreete, which forcenturies has been an insignificant hamlet, is now known throughout theBritish Army as 'Plug Street'; well known for possessing some of thefinest trenches along the line. 

One afternoon I had ridden back into Ypres to purchase a note-book, andhad procured what I wanted, when two privates who stood by my side inthe little stationer's shop determined on the purchase of some smallarticle; the difficulty at the moment was to find out its cost. One ofthem, who acted as spokesman, held up his selection, and astonished thewoman at the other side of the counter by saying, 'How mooch monnee?'Naturally enough the woman gazed at him with a bewildered air, when'Tommy' turned to the pal by his side and said, 'Silly swine, they don'tknow their own language. '

A remarkable feature which I frequently encountered in connexion withwhat I may call the soldier's social life, is the great facility withwhich he introduces himself to the native inhabitants. In a very fewminutes he seems to be thoroughly at home with them, girls and all, andis in some mysterious way holding conversation, or at all eventsconveying his meaning, to the satisfaction of both parties. In thegloaming you will see him strolling about with the girls of the village, as much at home as in the lanes of his own countryside. What they talkabout I can't tell, but talk they do; and as far as one can determine, to their mutual pleasure. 

Even in the deadliest moments, the wit of the man is to the front. Atthe battle of Neuve Chapelle, at the beginning of March, a bomb-thrower, rushing through the village, came upon a cellar full of Germans inhiding. Putting his head in at the door, at the risk of his life hecried: 'How many of yer are there in there?' The answer came, 'Ve vostwelve. ' Then said Tommy, throwing in a bomb, 'Divide that amongst yer, 'with the result too ghastly for words. 

Such humour, coarse though it may be, is not by any means confined toterra firma. On the first of April, a British aeroplane sailed over theGerman lines, and when over the first line of trenches, dropped afootball. The Huns were simply terrified, as they saw this new kind ofbomb slowly descending, and fled right and left. With amazement they sawit strike the ground, and then bounce high up, until it graduallysettled down; then very cautiously the bolder elements amongst themcrept up and found a football, on which was written, 'The first ofApril, you blighters. '

It is strange to see this remarkable spirit evinced in the mosthazardous moments of life. Right out in front of the trenches one nighta man was badly hit, and his chum, at the risk of his life, rushed outto his help, saying, 'Get on my back, mate, and I will carry you in, 'only to be met with, 'Not darned likely; I shall be shot in the back, and you will get the V. C. '

A further illustration of this most remarkable military productionoccurs in the following incident. A friend of mine, who has himself beentwice wounded, on the last occasion of injury was in the trenches, whensuddenly a man by his side was hit in the wrist; clapping his hand uponthe wound he exclaimed, 'Got it! I've been waiting for this since lastAugust. ' Then, putting his left hand into his pocket, he pulled out amouth-organ and played 'Home, Sweet Home. ' Who but an English 'Tommy'could, or would, do that. No wonder that the French are puzzled by thisstrange composition of humanity with which they are fighting as allies. 

The enemy, too, wonders, as he comes across a foe so remarkable in hiswords and methods. A German officer--a most charming man--lying in thenext bed but one to me, on the hospital ship which brought me home fromFrance, was asked what he thought of the comparative fighting values ofthe allies, and he remarked, 'Well! we can manage the Belgians, and weunderstand the French, but we cannot comprehend you English, for byevery known law of war you are beaten again and again, but you neverseem to know it!' This is, of course, not an original utterance, butderived from one of Napoleon's great Generals; but at all events itshows the estimate placed upon our fighting capacity by an enemy who atone time styled us as 'that contemptible little army. ' There issometimes a weird sense of disproportion revealed, as in the case of aHighlander who was visited by a brother chaplain at a Base hospital sometwo or three months ago, and who remarked to the patient, 'Well, Jock, what do you think of Jack Johnsons? They put the fear of God into yourheart, don't they?' 'Aye, sir, they do, but let's hope it will soon wearoff. '

My readers will see that we are a strange compound of grave and gay atthe Front, as I have already said. There is, however, a deeper side ofthe soldier's life, which after all is even more correctlycharacteristic of the man than that which only appears upon thesurface. 

THE FIRST BATTLE OF YPRES

CHAPTER V

THE FIRST BATTLE OF YPRES

Until October, 1914, Ypres was generally regarded as a quiet Belgiantown, celebrated for its most interesting and valuable buildings, andrelics of a past age; but owing to its strategic importance in this war, it has from that time onwards been lifted out of its somnolent life intoa world-wide importance, as one of the greatest battle-fields of theworld. 

In explaining the great part which the Seventh Division took in thisfront-rank battle, I cannot do better than quote from _The Times_ ofDecember 16, 1914, in describing the heroic effort of our troops inresisting the furious onslaughts of the Germans in their vain endeavourto reach Calais; to which point the Kaiser had commanded a road 'to beforced at all costs. ' Under the heading--

 THE DEFENCE OF YPRES BRILLIANT WORK OF THE SEVENTH DIVISION STUBBORN VALOUR AND ENDURANCE

the writer proceeds to say:--

 'The full story of the gallantry shown by British troops in their stubborn defence of Ypres has yet to be told, but the orders which we publish below, with the detailed official narrative of events in Flanders which accompanies them, give some indication of the fine work which has been done by the Seventh Infantry and Third Cavalry Divisions. 

 The following order, which accompanied an order issued by General Sir Douglas Haig, published in _The Times_ of November 30, was issued to the Seventh Division by Lieut. -General Sir H. S. Rawlinson:--

 In forwarding the attached order by G. O. C. First Corps, I desire to place on record my own high appreciation of the endurance and fine soldierly qualities exhibited by all ranks of the Seventh Division from the time of their landing in Belgium. You have been called to take a conspicuous part in one of the severest struggles in the history of the war, and you have had the honour and distinction of contributing in no small measure to the success of our arms and the defeat of the enemy's plans. 

 The task which fell to your share inevitably involved heavy losses, but you have at any rate the satisfaction of knowing that the losses you have inflicted upon the enemy have been far heavier. 

 The Seventh Division have gained for themselves a reputation for stubborn valour and endurance in defence, and I am certain that you will only add to your laurels when the opportunity of advancing to the attack is given you. 

 * * * * *

 Such Army orders are necessarily written in general terms, and are invariably marked by a disciplined self-restraint. It may be of interest, therefore, to give some account of the circumstances in which "the stubborn valour and endurance" of which Sir Henry Rawlinson speaks were displayed. The work of the Seventh Division and the Third Cavalry Division to the date of the issue of this order at about the end of November, was of a kind which strains the mental and physical strength of troops, beyond any other form of operations. The two Divisions were sent to the aid of the Naval Division at Antwerp, and they were landed at Ostend and Zeebrugge about October 6. They occupied the regions of Bruges and Ghent, and they had to suffer the initial disappointment of finding that they arrived too late. Two days later Sir Henry Rawlinson moved his Head-quarters from Bruges to Ostend. The enemy were advancing in great force, and the position of our troops became untenable; indeed, the situation was so serious that the troops which had been detailed for lines of communication at the base were forced to embark again and return to Dunkirk. 

 A POSITION OF GRAVE DANGER

 The position of the two Divisions from this point onwards was one of grave danger. They were forced by the overwhelming superiority in numbers of the enemy to retire. From Ghent all the way to Ypres it was a desperate rearguard fight. They had to trek across a difficult country without any lines of communication and without a base, holding on doggedly from position to position, notably at Thielt and Roulers, until they took up their final stand before Ypres. What that stand has meant to England will one day be recognized. What it cost these troops, and how they fought, will be recorded in the proudest annals of their regiments. 

 After the deprivations and the tension of being pursued through day and night by an infinitely stronger force, these two Divisions had yet to pass through the worst ordeal of all. It was left to a little force of 30, 000 to keep the German Army at bay for some days while the other British Corps were being brought up from the Aisne (the First Corps did not come to their assistance till October 21). Here they hung on like grim death, with almost every man in the trenches holding a line which was of necessity a great deal too long--a thin, exhausted line against which the prime of the German first line troops were hurling themselves with fury. The odds against them were about eight to one, and when once the enemy found the range of a trench, the shells dropped into it from one end to the other with the most terrible effect. Yet the men stood firm and defended Ypres in such a manner that a German officer afterwards described their action as a brilliant feat of arms, and said that they were under the impression that there had been four British Corps against them at this point. 

 When the two Divisions were afterwards withdrawn from the firing line to refit, it was found that in the Infantry alone, out of the 400 officers who set out from England, there were only forty-four left, and out of 12, 000 men only 2, 336. So far, little has been published about the work of these Divisions--probably because the bulk of the various dispatches is so great. It may be well, therefore, to place on record now an achievement which will one day be reckoned, no doubt, among the finest of the kind in British military history. '

One's own view and conception of so huge a movement was necessarilysmall, for in a 'far-flung battle line' the ordinary individual couldonly see very little of the main operations. Yet the little I sawrevealed to me the splendid heroism of our men, and the carefullythought out disposition of our troops; a heroism so perfect that oneattenuated line of khaki, consisting of under 30, 000 men, held 240, 000Germans at bay. For a week this small force clung to their positions bydint of magnificent fighting and dauntless pluck, until the main armyfrom the Aisne under General Sir John French joined forces with them. 

During these stirring and most eventful days the scenes of ordinary lifeoften came before me in striking contrast to what was being thus enactedin the very forefront of England's effort. For instance, sometimes amida very hell of noise and carnage, the thought of Regent Street orCheapside in their work-a-day aspect, or again, the peacefulsurroundings of 'home, sweet home, ' would find a momentary lodgment inmy mind, only to be dispelled by the sounds and signs which betokenedthat the sternest game of life was being played before my eyes. Eachhour seemed to promise the break of our lines by the vast masses of theenemy, which were always pressing us hard, and indeed the promise wouldhave been fulfilled but for the grit of men who never acknowledgeddefeat. 

I have always been proud of being a Briton, but seeing what I did, andknowing what I know, I feel immeasurably prouder now, than ever before, of belonging to a nation which can produce such men. Even naturepresented its remarkable contrast to the clamour of war, for in theinterlude of the firing of a battery of eighteen pounders I have heardthe birds singing as peacefully and merrily as in quiet English fields. 

It is difficult to convey to my readers the prodigies of valour whichdaily took place in the course of the great struggle in front of Ypres. One dark night a young R. A. M. C. Officer, who until quite recently hadbeen pursuing his quiet round of work as a medical practitioner inEngland, but who at the call of country had pressed to the front, wasout with his bearer company attending the dying and wounded men, whensuddenly a Battalion, which had lost all its officers, momentarily brokefrom the trenches. Quickly gathering the dread import of their act, thisyoung hero rushed into the ruck of men, who amid that awful hell hadbeen seized with panic. Calling to a sergeant he directed him to shootthe first man that came by, then rushing into the disorganizedrabble--for it was little else at that time--he shouted to them, 'Men!men! have you forgotten that you are Englishmen, ' and quickly bringingthem into order headed them back again to their grim work. I have beenpleased to see that this brave lad has received a well meriteddistinction from his Sovereign, but at the time the only comment madeupon his behaviour by his O. C. Was, 'The young beggar ought to get a rapover his knuckles for exceeding his duty. ' Such feats are constantlyoccurring, so often indeed as to hardly excite comment. 

Two officers from a Guards Battalion in my Brigade died the death ofheroes in the dark hours of one early morning, endeavouring to fulfilthe hopeless task of capturing a German gun, the while they had only sixmen with them. The whole party was blown to pieces in the endeavour. Some may think it a useless waste of valuable life; in degree it is, butthese daring deeds go far to preserve that glorious spirit of heroicventure which characterizes the whole fighting line of our men. Thevalue of systematic training, which at the time it is being undergone isoften regarded as a weariness of the flesh by the men undergoing it, isstrikingly exhibited in actual warfare. I was much struck with this lateone afternoon, as I saw the 2nd Gordons enter action in extended order. Their 'dressing and distance' was most admirably preserved, the whilethey took advantage of every inch of cover that presented itself. Itwas indeed a thrilling sight to see these brave lads advancing under amurderous fire, with as great a steadiness as if they were in the LongValley at Aldershot. 

Moving about near the firing line requires considerable circumspection, and a fairly accurate knowledge of the disposition of troops. For lackof this, I once found myself in a most unenviable position. I had beencalled to bury an officer of the Guards, who had died undercircumstances of singular gallantry--alas! leaving a wife and twocharming children. On nearing the spot where I had been told the bodywas lying, I was informed that it had been arranged to convey theremains to England. There was nothing for it but to retrace one's steps, but by this time the firing which had been unpleasantly heavy on the wayout, had waxed in intensity, when suddenly emerging from the shelter ofa wood, I found myself between the two lines of opposing forces. ABritish sergeant roared lustily to me to stay where I was and lie down, and I never obeyed instruction with greater alacrity. Fortunately forme, the line of battle steadily shifted and I was enabled to rideonwards with some degree of security; but I inwardly registered a vowthat in the future I would make sure of what was taking place before Irode into such a mare's nest. 

The methods of warfare, as now conducted, are entirely removed fromthose of previous campaigns; for instance, the ranging of guns to-day ismost correctly determined by aeroplanes. But not only do these warscouts render this important service; from the air they are enabled todetect the disposition of troops, gun emplacements, and all othermovements of the enemy, which heretofore it has been difficult todetermine. 

Very frequently most thrilling duels take place between opposingaviators, and certainly nothing is more exciting than to watch such astruggle in mid air. One is lost in wonderment at the pluck and theskill of the aviators, as one sees them man[oe]uvring for place, thewhile subject to heavy fire. One of the most notable aviators at thattime was Commander Samson, commonly known as Captain Kettle, owing to alikeness to that far-famed character of fiction, which was to be faintlytraced in the hero of real life. Commander Samson was not only a 'flyer'possessed of intrepid courage and great skill, but he further possessedan armour-plated car, in which was a high velocity gun; this hemanipulated in a manner which struck terror to the German's heart; andone was not surprised to hear that the Kaiser had offered a reward offour thousand marks to the man who brought him down, or put him out ofaction. I enjoyed a marked illustration of his prowess one afternoon, near Hooge. A German aeroplane was sailing majestically over our lines, the observer no doubt making notes of everything which he beheld, whensuddenly Samson dashed up in his car, and after very deliberate aim, hitthe aircraft in the oil tank, which resulted in the whole falling to theground a burning and crumpled mass. Such episodes appeal to the sportingnature which characterizes most men, and tend to relieve any monotonywhich may at times threaten to settle upon the men. 

From boyhood one has delighted in reading the vivid accounts of suchcampaigns as the Peninsular, or Crimea; and in later days in taking partin the autumn man[oe]uvres held in such open country as Dartmoor, orSalisbury Plain. One well remembers the fascination of watching aGeneral, surrounded by his Staff, sending orders and receivingdispatches at the hands of his 'gallopers. ' But all this has changed. No longer do we see cocked hat Generals, on the summit of rising ground, spying the position of troops through his field-glasses. To-day some ofthe most notable actions are fought by a General who the whole time maybe three or four miles away from the seat of the struggle. Picture him, pipe in mouth, working out the movements of the troops on a large map infront of him. Every moment the Field telephone is at work; dispatchriders breathlessly deliver their messages, the while the Staff arecarefully noting every fresh movement reported. Not an unnecessary wordis spoken, and all hinges upon one figure whose whole attention iscentred, by the aid of his vivid imagination and definite information, upon a battlefield, the ground of which he probably knows, but which atthe moment is far out of sight. Such is the science of war up to date. 

Since the early days of the war methods have considerably changed. Bothsides have dug themselves in, until the allied lines stretch in onecontinuous chain of over 500 miles. The trenches to-day are monuments ofmasterly skill and construction. Gazing over a line of such earthfortifications--for that is what they are--from the summit of a hill, itis very difficult to realize that at one's feet there are thousands ofmen lying hidden from each other, but ready at a moment's notice tospring into deadly activity. An occasional shell bursts here and there, but beyond that the characteristics are apparently peaceful; such is theappearance at the present stage of warfare. But it must be always bornein mind this is only preparatory to great and far-reaching movements. 

Ever and again a scrap takes place, and a few hundreds or thousands ofyards of trenches are taken or lost. To the ordinary civilian mind thisall seems very haphazard, but it is not so; every movement is made witha purpose, and the result carefully noted by the master mind behind thewhole. 

The first battle of Ypres lasted somewhere about a month. Since thenother sanguinary battles have taken place on the ground which has becomehistoric. But October and November, 1914, will ever stand in the annalsof war as the occasion of one of England's greatest triumphs, fornotwithstanding Germany's costly endeavours to reach the coast, shefailed. 

CONCERNING OFFICERS AND MEN

CHAPTER VI

CONCERNING OFFICERS AND MEN

In considering the constituent elements of an army, the first avenue ofthought must lead to the primary essential--discipline. The realizationof this most important military virtue is one of the most difficult forthe young soldier to apprehend and appreciate, and yet it must underlythe whole system of the army. By discipline, I do not merely meansmartness, which is involved in quick and correct response to the wordof command; that, of course, is part of it; but I refer moreparticularly to that grip of self which enables a man to force himselfinto subjection to authority, which may be entirely inimical to his ownwill. One of the most striking illustrations of this remarkable mentalcondition came under my notice on October 27, 1914. I had ridden up tothe front to see some of the men in my Brigade. The Grenadier and ScotsGuards had for days been holding the line with dogged pluck, and now hadwithdrawn from the trenches for a brief respite from their most arduousduties. Falling back a mile or so, they were rejoicing in the prospectof a hot meal. Very speedily the trench fires were dug, and thedixies[2] were filled with a savoury stew; the while the men were lyingabout enjoying their well-earned rest. In the midst of their brief lazean urgent order came down from General Capper, commanding the men toreturn to the trenches immediately, as the enemy were approaching instrong force. At once the brave lads kicked out the fires and stood toattention, and moved off to a task from which many of them neverreturned. An eyewitness assured me that the Brigadier[3] gave the orderin a voice which was broken with emotion, for he knew full well thedesperate nature of the task he was setting his men. In this grandresponse to a most unpalatable order, the very highest discipline isnoticeable; it embodies such an act of devotion to duty as reveals thatmastery over self which lies at the very root of success in warfare. Such a discipline cannot fail to evoke admiration wherever it iswitnessed. It is noticeable among officers and men alike, and tends toweld both in that splendid spirit of comradeship which is so peculiarlya feature of our army at the present time. 

In considering the relationship of those in command and those commanded, I must deal with them separately. 

(1) Officers: Many years ago--I think it was during the Crimeanwar--_Punch_ gave a very admirable setting of the British officer in twophases. In one picture was a ball-room in which the whiskered exquisitesof that period were seen in the mazes of a dance, and underneath waswritten: 'Our officers can dance. ' The next picture revealed the samemen charging up to the guns at the head of their men, and underneath thewords: 'But by jingo they can fight too. ' There is no doubt that theEnglish officer is good at enjoying himself, and no small blame to him, but when it comes to the stern days of war, he is as keen and gallant asever. It must have struck the most casual observer that the proportionof officer casualties during this war is entirely disproportionate tothe numbers engaged. Again and again this striking fact has met with thesevere stricture of those competent to judge; but it is useless toattempt to alter the glorious traditions of the English army in thisrespect: our officers will lead; and although it may be at a terriblecost, the results are seen in the splendid backing up of the men. In theearly days of the war, on more than one occasion, I met with such aremark from working men as 'Let the rich do their bit. ' I hold that theyhave done it, and done it magnificently. No one can read the list ofcasualties without being struck with the enormous number of what I maycall the cultured classes which have fallen in the operations we areengaged in. Indeed, there is hardly a titled family in England but ismourning its dead. Our young officers are entering action with a wildabandonment which it is impossible to realize unless witnessed. Writinghome to his people, a subaltern recently declared that he was at the topof the fulness of life. Small wonder that our men will go anywhere anddo anything behind such magnificent leading as our officers are givingthem. 

But this splendid attribute of the British officer is not only seen amidthe excitement of conflict. At the end of a weary march when all alikeare fagged out and ready to throw themselves upon the earth and rest, the first consideration on the part of the officers is the men; theirfood, their billets; and when these important questions are dealt with, then, and not till then, with wearied frames, these gallant gentlemenbegin to think of themselves. This evokes a feeling which I may notinaptly style, hero worship, on the part of the men. Frequently, indescribing the glorious death of some favourite officer, a man has saidto me, 'I loved him like a brother'; and this condition of regard ismutual, for it is no uncommon thing (on the occasion of the departure ofthe 'leave' train) to see an officer, frequently of senior rank, onspotting in the crowd a non-commissioned officer, or private, from hisregiment, go up to him and with a hearty grip of the hand, say, 'Well, my lad, hope you have had a good time!' Such a state of things would, ofcourse, be impossible in the German army, but we Englishmen have provedthat the most solid foundation of a true relationship between officersand men is respect and love, and right happy are the results attained. 

(2) Our men: It is not possible to speak too highly of the splendidmanhood embodied in our ranks to-day. Their language is certainlyreprehensible, but after all we must realize that their vocabulary isnot an extensive one, and the employment of adjectives which, to arefined ear, sounds deplorable, is only used by them to describe anintensity which no other words they possess would be capable ofrendering. I am, of course, not referring to blasphemy or obscenity, which is immediately checked by every right-minded man in authority. 

During the whole of my experience in Flanders, I did not come acrossone case of drunkenness; my experience may be peculiar, but I do notthink so. To begin with, there is, of course, the very strong deterrentof rigid punishment for such an offence. Again, there are not thefacilities for the purchase of strong drink, such as unhappilycharacterizes the condition of affairs in Great Britain; but away andbeyond these preventives lies the fact that every man is imbued with theidea that he must keep himself fit and 'play the game, ' and the resultis that at the Front to-day we have a sober army. I cannot too stronglywarn the men who are at home, preparing for the Front, to watchthemselves closely in this respect, and for the following reasons:--

 (a) A man who drinks renders himself physically unfit for the tremendous strain involved by a campaign. A short time ago I was travelling in France, from General Head-quarters to Bailleul, and riding past a certain Brigade which had landed two days prior, I was struck with the very considerable portion of men who had fallen out on the march. This was partly due to the very painful process of marching over cobbled stones to which they were new, but I knew full well that it was also attributable to the fact of the soft condition which some of the foolish fellows were in, through the unwise use of stimulants in the near past. 

 (b) Sobriety is an absolute essential, for again and again the security of a Platoon, a Company, a Battalion, a Brigade, or even of Division, may depend upon the alertness of a sentinel. 

We observe, therefore, the urgent importance of a man placed in soresponsible a position being in the fullest possession of his powers ofmind and body; therefore, I say with emphasis, and I say it to every mangoing out, keep clear of the drink. 

One cannot fail to be struck with the supineness of certain Generalswho, possessing the power of placing public houses out of bounds, excepting for one hour morning and evening, yet allow the men undertheir command to soak in bar parlours for hours at a time. There aremagnificent exceptions to this, and all honour to those DivisionalCommanders who have taken the trouble to ascertain the conditions ofsocial life under which their men exist when off duty, and who makeadequate provision for the ordinary means of recreation and enjoyment. 

But to pass to the men of whom we are all so justly proud. Theircheerfulness is truly remarkable, and indeed it requires somewhat ofthe spirit of a Mark Tapley to 'stick it' in such weather ascharacterized the campaign of last winter. 

Their hopefulness, too, is a glorious possession, and a grand incentiveto any man. _Nil desperandum_ is the watch-word which flashes down theranks of our men, even in the tightest corners. 

Their courage! who can describe it? for it stands at the very apex ofhuman glory. Again and again the enemy has paid admiring tribute to thesplendid dash and invincible determination evinced by our men. I amconfident that if it were only a question of man against man, the warwould speedily be ended. 

I have had many opportunities of watching the fortitude of our bravelads. I should be sorry indeed to attempt to describe what one haswitnessed in field dressing stations; suffice it to say that in momentsof greatest agony I have seen men bite their lips almost to the flow ofblood, rather than emit a groan. Such are the men to whom England hascommitted her honour, her prestige, even her destiny; and the commissionhas not been made in vain. 

In dealing with 'our men' it would be a serious omission not to pay atribute to the remarkable collection of Imperial manhood which is nowgathered together under our flag. I need not refer to the Canadians orAustralians, for they are of our own flesh and blood, but the Indiansoldier deserves a word of high appreciation. Side by side with hiswhite brother in arms he has fought magnificently. True, his methods ofwarfare are different, but in their own particular manner they are justas effective. One of their officers described to me the very greatrelish with which the Ghurkas approach a German trench. Slinking overthe ground with the stealthiness of tigers, kukri between their teeth, they lie silently under the thrown up earth, then flipping a piece ofdirt into the air, wait for the German's head to be suspiciously raised;a flash of the keen knife, and the German ceases to exist! No wonderthat such men are regarded with terror by the Huns. One day, when abatch of prisoners were brought in, an Indian approached one of themwith a broad grin; displaying his teeth, which shone like pearls, heproceeded to show his good feeling towards the German by stroking theman, as a token of amity; but the poor fellow before him imagined thathe was seeking a soft place in which to insert his deadly knife, andfairly howled with terror. 

From a military point of view one of the strangest aspects of thiscampaign has been the little use made of cavalry during the first battleof Ypres, and indeed right up to the present the horses of our cavalryhave, for the most part, not been required. It was strange to see theHousehold Cavalry working in the trenches side by side with infantry ofthe Line, but doing their work as effectively, and uncomplainingly, asany other section of the army. 

As the winter draws on apace, the heart of England will once more openin a response to the necessary comforts which her brave sons call for ather hands, and for which they will not call in vain. Let me give a fewhints: Tobacco and cigarettes are, of course, always in demand, andunder the peculiar circumstances of this nerve-racking campaign, aremore or less of a necessity. Socks, too, are needed, for whether theweather is hot or cold, socks will wear out. The men dearly love sweets, such as toffee, chocolate, peppermints. Cardigan jackets--not tooheavy--are largely called for; a packet containing writing paper, envelopes and an indelible pencil are very acceptable; woollen sleepinghelmets, and, of course, mittens will not be refused; boracic acidpowder for sore feet; anything to do with a shaving outfit (especiallysafety razors) are gladly welcomed. From country districts a local papermeans a great deal to a man, for it keeps him in touch with homeaffairs. But above all, keep up a regular correspondence with your men;it is difficult for the home folk to realize how much a letter means. Astriking object lesson is afforded on the arriving of a mail, by thehurried withdrawal of the fortunate receivers of letters from the mailbag, like the lions at the Zoo which, on receiving their food, withdrawto enjoy it in solitude. In a word, our men are worth all you can do forthem; do not spare yourselves in alleviating the inevitable discomforts, privations and trails which are involved in such work as they have setthemselves to accomplish. 

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Dixies: camp kettles. 

[3] Brigadier-General Ruggles Brise, who was very badly wounded shortlyafterwards, and returned to England. 

THE WORK OF A CHAPLAIN IN THE FIELD

CHAPTER VII

THE WORK OF A CHAPLAIN IN THE FIELD

In the care of an army on active service the most complete arrangementsexist for every requirement of the soldier. As far as possible nothingis omitted that will conduce to his comfort, well-being and usefulness. 

 His food is, as we have already seen, most scientifically devised. 

 His equipment is adjusted on the most anatomical principles. 

 His arms are the most up to date that science and money can provide. 

 His medical and surgical supplies are the most perfect that science can apply. 

 And not least, his spiritual needs are increasingly well attended to. There are over six hundred chaplains now in the field. 

Many people have queer notions as to the methods and objects of achaplain's work. Some years ago I was on my way to conduct a Mission inYorkshire, when I happened to meet an R. A. M. C. Friend. On my telling himof the errand upon which I was bound, he expressed some surprise, anddisplayed complete ignorance as to the character of my intending duty. Accordingly I endeavoured to remove his ignorance by establishing aparallel between his work and mine. I pointed out that in the visitationof the hospital wards at Aldershot he doubtless became interested inhis patients, especially any uncommon or obstinate cases, and to thesehe would pay especial attention, applying every specific which laywithin his knowledge. In pursuance of my purpose I then proceeded topoint out that a clergyman's work proceeded upon precisely the samescientific lines. First of all a diagnosis of the difficulties was made, then the specific was applied, but with this difference; medical scienceis again and again beaten by the ignorance of the precise remedy toapply, even presuming that it has been discovered; whereas the clergymansets before his patient the unfailing Christ, Who is sufficient forevery need of sinful man. I left him I hope somewhat enlightened as tothe definite character of a clergyman's ministry. The difficulty of myfriend is much the same as that experienced by a large number of peopleas regards the work of a padré in the field. Let me set before you thedifferent phases of the work which commonly fall within the allottedsphere of a chaplain's duty at the Front. 

To begin with there are now two[4] chaplains appointed to a Brigade (inthe early days of the war there was only one, and he was usuallyattached to a Field Ambulance), the one is more particularly responsiblefor the active men of the Brigade, whilst the other works with the FieldAmbulance. (Each Brigade consists of from three to five thousand men andhas a Field Ambulance attached to it. )

 (1) As occasion offers church parades are held, to which the attendance is compulsory. But many a time the padré will arrange voluntary services of the most informal character; in barns, in a wood, sometimes in the reserve trenches. The chaplain, by order, has no right in the firing trenches except on urgent duties: such as ministering to the men, or conducting funerals. 

 (2) Men who are communicants greatly value the Means of Grace, and possibly the great sacrament of the Lord's Supper is never administered under more remarkable circumstances than at the Front. At times the setting of the service is of the very crudest form, but none the less it is highly prized. I know full well the objection that is felt by some clergy to Evening Communion, but in the British Expeditionary Force at times it is absolutely necessary, unless the Church is prepared to practically excommunicate men for a longer or shorter period. I may add that personally I have no sympathy with limiting the Means of Grace instituted by our Blessed Redeemer to any particular hour of the day, and certainly the Divine Institution was made after the Last Supper, or during that meal. 

 (3) One of the saddest features of the padré's round of duty is the burial of the dead. Funerals often take place in the firing line, or immediately behind it, when, of course, the ceremony is of the very briefest duration. At others the remains of the brave dead are interred in the nearest cemetery, but in either case, as far as possible, a cross is placed on the grave recording the name, number and regiment of the interred. The visitation of the dying, especially during a 'push, ' entails a great deal of time on the part of the chaplain. If the dying man is conscious and realizes his position, there will be the last messages for the loved ones at home; the disposition of property; the setting right of some existent wrong; for as the moment of dissolution approaches, men's minds are usually keenly alive to the urgency of the position. 

 (4) One of the most harrowing duties is ministering to the wounded, especially in the Field Dressing Station of an Ambulance, where the men are first attended to after being brought in from the field. Their condition is often indescribable, and opportunities of a word of comfort abound. Even as a man lies upon the table, his wounds being probed and dressed, the Message of God, coupled sometimes with so material a solace as the placing of a cigarette between the lips of the sufferer, will help him to bear his agony. In Casualty Clearing and Base Hospitals there are, of course, always a number of sick to be visited, and this work falls within the region of ordinary civilian hospital work. In many cases where a man is first hit and he is not in a too collapsed condition, his first thought is of home; and a painful anxiety is often evinced by the sufferer to get a message through, describing his condition, before his name appears in the casualty list; for, unhappily, no distinction is made in the published lists between slight and serious cases. 

 (5) All this involves a large amount of correspondence on the part of the chaplain, and there are busy times when a 'scrap' is proceeding. Every spare moment is occupied with writing letters for those who are unable to do so themselves. On the top of all his other work the padré is constantly receiving letters from home, asking him as to the whereabouts of this or that man, who may be dead, wounded or missing; and this phase of the work of itself takes up a great deal of time. 

 (6) A not unimportant duty which falls to a chaplain's lot is the recreation of the men, and if he is a good sort he will endeavour, during periods of rest, to enliven the lot of his men with sing-songs, boxing competitions, football matches, athletic sports, etc. , etc. --anything to buck up the men and keep them cheery. In addition to this, many nondescript duties fall to the chaplain's lot. Sometimes he is mess president, and that will give him an anxious half hour. The solicitude of a young wife who asked a matron of mature experience as to the best method of keeping the affection of her husband and preserving his interest in the home, was answered by, 'Feed the brute. ' A mess president knows to the full what this means. The padré will sometimes have difficult and perchance dangerous work allotted to him, such as carrying messages under fire, or tending wounded men in exposed places. He must also be prepared to lend a hand in carrying the wounded; and, in short, render himself as useful as possible, and thus prove himself a friend of officer and man. 

The question is often asked, 'Should a chaplain be under fire?' It isimpossible to avoid it if he is serving troops under fire, and he musttake his chance with every one else. Many times I have been asked, 'Wereyou afraid?' I am only a normal person, not conspicuous for undue pluckon the one hand, or, I hope, undue funk on the other, but I never gotover my fear; of course one grew accustomed to the deadly visitantswhich were constantly in our midst. After all, if there is no fear, there is no courage. I sometimes hear of men, of whom it is said, 'Theydo not know what fear is. ' Well, if that is so, such an individual isdevoid of courage, for the very essence of courage consists in theappreciation of fear, and a persistence in duty notwithstanding. DoctorJohnson was passing through a cathedral when he noticed a tomb on whichwas written, 'Here lies the body of a man who never knew fear. ' 'Then, 'said the witty Doctor, 'he never tried to snuff a lighted candle withhis fingers. ' General Gordon has told us that he was always subject tofear. 'For my part, ' he once said, 'I am always frightened and very muchso. ' And yet no one in history has a reputation more honestly earned forthis real kind of courage, a courage won by personal victory over fear. Herein lies the essence of the experience of the vast majority of ourmen; fearing fire, and loathing it as they do, they yet 'stick' it, because it is their duty. 

It is astonishing how soon one grows accustomed to death at the Front. It cannot well be otherwise; the man you have been chatting to fiveminutes before is presently borne along dead. The officer who was thelife and soul of the mess on the previous night, in some ruinedfarmhouse, is gone before the morning; and as a man well put it, 'Dyingmen out here are as common as falling leaves in autumn. '

The religious atmosphere at the Front is unique. I can hardly say thatthere is what one may term a general turning to God, but certainly therealization of the nearness of God and eternity are very present to mostmen's minds. As a man said up at the Front, 'Out here every man puts upsome kind of a prayer every night. ' The superficial scepticism which isso largely ethical, or the result of indifference, and which is assumedby many men in England, has no hold at the Front. One of our best knownBishops was telling me when I met him 'somewhere in France' that a shorttime back he was about to conduct a service in a hospital ward, in hisown city, and upon handing a hymn-book to one of the patients lying inbed, he was met with, 'Thank you, I would rather not, I am an agnostic'Hearing this, the man in the next bed raised himself up on his elbow, and looking at the objector, tersely remarked, 'You silly young fool, aweek at the trenches would take that nonsense out of you. ' Undoubtedlyour men are being awakened to the tremendous reality of eternalverities, and it behoves us to help them all we can. In this respect theexperience of the padré is intensely happy; no work on which he engagesis more fruitful than that of upholding Christ before men who have comenear the end of their earthly course. Said an officer to me--who hadjust been brought in badly wounded, and I had written to his wifeassuring her that all was being done to alleviate his suffering and toeffect his recovery (which happily took place)--'Padré, I have been awild man all my life, but last night as I lay wounded in the trenches, for the first time I realized God, and perfect peace came into myheart. '

A captain in the Guards, badly hit through the lungs with shrapnel, demanded a good bit of my attention. When he was sent to the Base Ihardly thought that he would survive the journey; however, in due coursehe reached England. Some months afterwards I received a letter from hismother, stating that her boy was slowly climbing back to recovery, andthanking me for what I had been able to do for him; which was littleenough. At the bottom of the letter was a postscript: 'My darling boydied at twelve to-day. Just before he passed away he said, "Mother, I amin perfect peace with God. Give my love to padré. "' Those are the kindof things that make a man thank God for having volunteered to do one's'bit' in that particular line of life in which he has been placed. Nowork is grander than a chaplain's; but I must lay it down as a generalaxiom, that no man should undertake this particular kind of work unlesshe knows that he is charged with a message from God. 

In the Neuve Chapelle dispatch, Sir John French writes: 'I have oncemore to remark upon the devotion to duty, courage and contempt of dangerwhich has characterized the work of the chaplains throughout thiscampaign. ' The padré's work is not to fight; indeed, he is not armed(anyhow, he is not allowed to be by the authorities); and certainly oneof the difficulties experienced is to withhold oneself as one sees thebrave lads go to their daring and glorious work. 

 Ambassador of Christ, you go Up to the very gates of hell, Through fog of powder, storm of shell, To speak your Master's message: 'Lo, The Prince of Peace is with you still, His peace be with you, His goodwill. '

 It is not small, your priesthood's price To be a man and yet stand by, To hold your life while others die, To bless, not share the sacrifice, To watch the strife and take no part-- You with the fire at your heart. 

 W. M. LETTS, in the _Spectator_. 

FOOTNOTES:

[4] There are now three appointed to each Brigade. 

THE CARE OF THE WOUNDED

CHAPTER VIII

THE CARE OF THE WOUNDED

Among the many sad sights witnessed in modern warfare, I questionwhether there is any more pathetic than a train of wounded men passingdown from the Front. Every description of injury is noticeable, for shotand shell are not discriminating. From cases of the severest abdominaland head wounds, the patient being in a more or less collapsedcondition, one turns to the laughing lad, with only a clean shot throughhis forearm, and who still has the exciting influence of the 'scrap'thickly upon him. But slight or dangerous, each requires attention, forowing to the grave danger of septic trouble, the smallest scratch mayprove fatal. In their handling of the enormous number of casualties, the work of the R. A. M. C. Will stand out in luminous letters when thehistory of the war is written. From sanitation, to a major operation, this Department is equal to the occasion, and one is lost in admirationat the splendid devotion to duty exhibited by this strictly scientificbranch of the service. 

Wounded men always possess a sad and enthralling interest to the publicmind. It is not morbid curiosity alone which draws men and women to gazeupon the unhappy sufferers, rather I think it is a feeling akin to awe, for it is recognized that these men have been in the thick of it, andthe imagination of the onlookers sees the courage they have displayed, and peering through the veil beholds the terrible sights they have seen. These, and similar thoughts cast a glamour over the most ordinarywounded man, and clothe him with a heroism which in all probability heof all men is most unconscious of possessing. 

The variety of circumstances under which men get wounded is unbounded. Multitudes of those bowled over have never seen a German. It may be farback in the rear that a 'Jack Johnson' or 'Black Maria' (for we havemany names for the German high explosive) has knocked a man out. It isall over in a moment; in the quiet of the night, or amid the bustle ofthe day the deadly shriek of an approaching shell falls upon the man'sear, and before he can seek for cover--even supposing there is any tohand--the roar of the explosion will probably be the last thing that hewill remember before he awakes to his agony. Or nearer to the line, thewhistle of an approaching shrapnel speaks of coming danger, and then aprone figure on the ground tells of one more who has been 'pipped, ' touse a colloquialism of the Front. When we consider the extreme range ofa seventeen-inch gun as being not far short of thirty miles, thedifficulty of being out of range is at once apparent. Nearer at hand, within a few yards, an accurately thrown bomb is a fruitful source ofinjury to our fighting men, whilst in these days of accurate rifle fire'snipers' mark the slightest movement at a thousand yards. In the fiercerush of the taking of a trench, men are as thick on the ground as theleaves of Vallombrosa. At such times, notwithstanding the specificorders to the contrary, men are constantly helping each other. Forbrotherly love will assert itself even amid the rush of battle. Here isan order from the 'Standing Orders' of the Seventh Division:--

'Wounded men. --All ranks are forbidden to divert their attention fromthe enemy in order to attend wounded officers or men. '

But notwithstanding this command, again and again heroic deeds areperformed by combatants in their endeavour to get their wounded comradesout of imminent danger. 

It was a noble deed of the Rev. Nevile Talbot, who, learning that hisbrother in the Rifle Brigade was hit, rushed into the zone of fire, onlyto find his beloved relative dead; straightway he immediately divertedhis attention to the need of a wounded 'Tommy' near by. The Rev. AndHonourable B. M. Peel was badly hit in the head and left leg, in chargingwith the Welsh Fusiliers; true, he had no right to be there from amilitary point of view, but I believe the O. C. Had given him permission, and certainly his heroic action inspired the men, and has left asplendid memory in the minds of those who were with him. In such waysthe front line of casualties occur. How are they dealt with? I willdescribe as briefly as possible the procedure which governs thehandling of the wounded from the fighting line to the Convalescent Homein England. 

 (1) Nearly every Battalion has its Regimental Surgeon and Bearers; the latter are men who are specially trained to render First Aid, and to carry the wounded out of the zone of immediate fire. 

 (2) At this point the stricken one is taken in hand by the Bearer Section of the Field Ambulance, under the command of an R. A. M. C. Officer, who, where necessary, quickly renders First Aid by applying a tourniquet where there is arterial bleeding, or bandaging up an ordinary wound. These men, whether attached to the Field Ambulance or a regiment, are worthy of the highest praise. No courage is of a higher order than that which enables men, devoid of the excitement of fighting, to pass within the deadly hail of lead. 

 (3) The wounded man is then conveyed to the Field Dressing Station of the Field Ambulance. This may be located in a deserted building: a barn, a farmhouse, or some such place. It may be even placed behind a haystack, or in a wood, but certainly in the most sheltered position that can be found. Here the man's wound receives more careful attention, but with a rush of such cases it is impossible to bestow all the care that is desired. Very hurriedly the man's clothing is cut open, the wound cleansed with iodine, or some such disinfectant, bandaged up again, and the sufferer is ready for evacuation to a Casualty Clearing Station. 

 (4) Some miles behind the firing line, a convent, schools, or any suitable house, or group of buildings, has been set apart as a hospital, and under the present system greater assistance can now be rendered to the patient. Even operations may be performed if the case is one of special urgency. At this point I would call attention to the remarkable revolution that has taken place in the transport of the wounded, through the agency of Motor Ambulances, in lieu of the pair horse Ambulance formerly in use, and which rumbled along the uneven roads, thereby causing an intolerable amount of suffering to the badly stricken men therein. The sufferers are now conveyed swiftly, and with far greater comfort, to their temporary destinations; and hundreds of lives are being preserved by means of this miracle of modern times. 

 (5) The hospital train at the 'rail head' which serves the district is the next experience of the wounded man. Those who have examined these wonderful accessories to modern warfare will have been struck by the completeness of the arrangements. Beds of the most comfortable description, having regard to space, are provided, whilst sitting cases are arranged for in ordinary carriages. Furnished with a well-appointed kitchen, nothing is left to be desired as regards the food, and this, I need hardly say, appeals very strongly to a man who has been living upon Army rations for weeks or months past. There is even a small operating theatre in the best equipped hospital trains. 

 (6) This brings us to the Base Hospital, where is found the finest talent, both medical and surgical, that the country can produce. Some of our greatest civilian medical men, in a temporary capacity, are now rendering invaluable aid to the remarkable cases which proceed from the fell work of shot and shell. These hospitals, some of which are due to the magnificent enterprise of private individuals, provide for a very large number of patients. In one centre alone there are eight hospitals, with fourteen beds in each. Here, too, are working the most highly trained nursing sisters, and the wounded man will, to his dying day, remember the patient skill bestowed upon him by these devoted women. A patient recently remarked to a friend of mine, who asked him whether he didn't think the sister was an angel, 'Indeed she is, sir, a regular fallen angel. ' His adjective was a little out of place, but he meant to describe exactly what we all feel with regard to these splendid ministers to our need. 

 (7) The hospital ship next receives the sufferer, and herein everything that modern ingenuity can devise is applied to the necessities of the case. Landing at some convenient British port, an English hospital train receives the wounded man, who is speedily whirled away to--

 (8) The Home Hospital, where, of course, the man remains under the ablest care, until he is happily classified a convalescent. 

 (9) The Convalescent Home is perhaps the happiest stage of the whole curriculum, and Tommy runs a chance of being spoiled ere he is ready for the fighting line, or, in case of permanent disablement, for the care of his own kith and kin. 

I must not forget the remarkable qualities of the Orderlies of theR. A. M. C. I have often been struck with the tender care and solicitudewhich they bestow upon the wounded coming under their attention. Intheir ranks are found all sorts and conditions of men: clergymen, medical students; indeed, the premier Earl of Scotland, the Earl ofCrawford and Balcarres, enlisted as a Private in the R. A. M. C. And is nowa Corporal in a Field Ambulance. Such an example cannot fail to placethis distinguished branch of the Service on the highest level of utilityand importance. 

So far, I have more particularly dealt with the care of the wounded. This, however, is only one side of the vast work under the care of themedical side of the Army. With the lamentable effect of the evil of badwater experienced in the South African war, the Authorities have beenmost drastic in their insistence of a pure water supply to the Army. To-day every unit has its filter cast, and most urgent orders are incirculation forbidding men to drink from any other supply. This alonehas prevented a large amount of disease. 

One of the ills that our men have to contend with is 'feet. ' No one, excepting those who have had to march on French and Belgian roads, canrealize the pernicious effect of cobbled stones, with their manyinequalities, upon the feet of the men; hence in every well-commandedBattalion frequent feet inspections are held--in many instances daily. This simple preventive, coupled with a copious supply of socks sent outby the people at home, has helped the great majority of 'Tommies' tokeep their pedal extremities in going order. 

The inspection of kit, from a sanitary point of view, is anotherimportant phase of the hygienic question. Where men have to exist fordays without a change of clothing, it will be readily understood thatthe effect is extremely prejudicial to health, and therefore a medicalsupervision of the clothing of the men is of supreme value to theirhealth. In many places facilities for hot baths are provided for the mencoming out of the trenches, and greatly is this boon prized. One of thecommonest sights behind the firing line is a detachment of men swingingalong, with towels in their hands, on their way to or fro the tub. 

In some places whilst the men are in the bath their clothes arecarefully disinfected, and then handed back to them thoroughly cleansedand fit for further use. Notwithstanding all these precautions, thereis, of course, a certain amount of sickness which is inevitable among sogreat a number of men, but it is significant in proportion to thenumbers employed. After many months with troops I can emphatically saythat the bodily care of our men, by the medical authorities, is beyondall praise, and has done much to preserve the redundant health which ischaracteristic of our Army in the field. 'Cleanliness is next toGodliness, ' and I must add that it comes in a good second in the BritishExpeditionary Force in Flanders and France. 

WORK AT THE BASE

CHAPTER IX

WORK AT THE BASE

At various centres in France are established Bases, where all thenecessary supplies and ammunition are landed, and thence transported tothe various Units in the Field. To cope with this vast system ofdistribution an army of men is employed. It will help the reader to forman estimate of the labour involved in this enormous undertaking if Ibriefly refer to the various branches of the British Expeditionary Forcewhich are specially engaged in ministering to the Force as a whole. 

 (1) _Army Service Corps. _--These are men drilled and practised in supply and transport. They are ubiquitous, and without them it would be impossible to maintain the operations in hand. 

 (2) _Army Ordnance Department. _--The men of this section are skilled in the manipulation of ammunition, and in the tabulation and distribution of a hundred and one articles of equipment. It is a striking object lesson to make a tour of inspection of this important Department of the Army. It would be interesting to know how many hundreds of thousands of miles of barbed wire have passed through the hands of the A. O. During the war. Everything from a screw to a howitzer comes within their attention. As to the supply of guns and ammunition I am, of course, forbidden to say anything, excepting to share with my fellow-countrymen the greatest satisfaction that the grave difficulty noticeable earlier in the war has to so large an extent been overcome. 

 (3) _Army Medical Stores. _--Here again we have another striking object lesson in the wonders of detail. Everything required by Hospitals, Field Ambulances, Casualty Clearing Stations is herein stored and ready to be dispatched in response to the indents which are daily pouring in; the requirements of the R. A. M. C. , from a surgical bandage to an operating table--to say nothing of drugs--must be ready for use. This involves the most careful attention on the part of the staff, which is, of course, composed of picked men. 

 (4) _Railway Engineers. _--In each Base will be found one or more companies of Sappers, who are responsible for the maintenance of telegraphic and telephonic communications, within the area of the Base; and also the construction and upkeep of military railway lines and buildings. 

 (5) _Sanitary Department. _--In Bases where permanent Garrisons are stationed (in some instances amounting to many thousands) much care must be exercised with regard to the ordinary hygienic conditions of life; and under highly qualified officers the most careful supervision is exercised in this respect. 

 (6) _Army Post Office. _--The correspondence of the Expeditionary Force is enormous, and involves a large staff in keeping 'Tommy' well posted with news from home. The efficiency of this important adjunct to our Army is as highly valued as it is admirably carried out. 

 (7) _Army Bakers. _--The men composing this Unit are of course selected from a particular calling. Their work is beyond all praise. In one Base with which I was more particularly connected during the latter part of my service abroad, no less than 220, 000 two and a half pound loaves are baked daily. This represents bread rations for 440, 000 men. The labour involved in such a vast production is very great. Weekday and Sunday alike the Army Bakers are grandly proceeding with their monotonous but most necessary work. So complete is the system employed in the making and distributing of 'the staff of life' that no Unit, however far distant, receives bread older than four days. A French General of high position, lately visiting one such Bakery, expressed his unbounded admiration at the system employed, saying that in the French Army bread fifteen days old is very usually met with. 

 (8) _Army Service Corps Labourers. _--These men are specially enlisted from stevedores, dock labourers, etc. Their work consists, in the main, of unloading vessels, and shipping supplies on to trains. 

 (9) _Remounts and Veterinary Department. _--It would rejoice the hearts of all lovers of dumb animals to visit these great repositories of whole, sick and injured horses. The saving in horse flesh represented by these carefully administered camps is of the utmost value to the Army as a whole, for although motor transport is playing so important a part, horses are a necessity in many phases of Army work. 

 (10) _Military Police. _--Under the Assistant Provost Marshal, a military Base is controlled by a staff of picked men, who do their work most admirably. Their duties are varied; they have the oversight of the conduct of the men, and are most particular in regard to the appearance of men in public. Woe be to the man who is not properly dressed as he passes under the lynx-eye of one of these military custodians of the peace. Such supervision is not even altogether uncalled for among the officers of the new Army; one has been much struck with the slovenly, and at times grotesque, appearance of men who have suddenly assumed the position of officers and gentlemen. The somewhat apt epigram which is current to-day, is not wholly unmerited, "Temporary officers are expected to behave as temporary gentlemen. "

 (11) _Convalescent Camps. _--On men leaving hospitals, prior to their rejoining their Units at the Front, they are usually placed in Convalescent Camps, or in what are called Base Details. Here they are employed in various light duties until such times as they are fit for more active service. 

It was at a Base comprising a Garrison of such Units as I have mentionedthat I spent the greater part of my closing months of service in theArmy. I was not attached to any hospital, but had placed in my care thegreater part of what I may call the active men. The work was of the mostinteresting description, and following as it did a strenuous experiencewith the fighting forces, I am enabled, in consequence, to form a fairlysound judgment on the work of the British Expeditionary Force as awhole. 

On leaving home on March 16 for a fresh spell of service, I proceeded, in obedience to orders received, and reported myself to Doctor Sims, theprincipal chaplain, and received from him my orders as to my allocation. On reaching my Base I was most cordially received by the Rev. E. G. F. McPherson, C. M. G. Senior Church of England Chaplain to the Forces. Thisofficer, who ranks as Colonel, has had many years of distinguishedservice in the Army, and is universally respected. Prior to his takingup the position which he occupied when I reported to him, he was in theretreat from Mons and the battle of the Aisne. The regard evinced forhim by all ranks is unbounded. On one occasion I was with him visitingpadrés at the Front, when an officer pointing to him said, 'There goesthe best loved man in the Army, ' and I can well believe it. He is at thepresent time rendering very important service with the Southern Command, in the Salisbury training centre. 

Allocated to me were the A. S. C. , Army Ordnance, Mechanical TransportBase Regiment (employed on Guard duty), Firing parties at funerals, Escorts, etc. , Military Police, Army Bakers, and A. S. C. Labourers. 

My work at the Base necessarily differed largely from that at the Front. The men being stationed at one place it was possible to arrange aregular system of services; but these were at times exceedinglydifficult to sustain, owing to the very heavy pressure of work withwhich the men had to cope; but notwithstanding such difficulties anddiscouragements, I have every reason to be thankful for the greatopportunity which was afforded me. 

It was my privilege to prepare men for Baptism, and on two occasions forConfirmation. This solemn rite of our Church was taken on the oneoccasion by Bishop Bury, and on the other by the Bishop of Birmingham;at each service admirable addresses were delivered. 

The Bishop of Birmingham--an old Territorial officer--has taken thegreatest interest in the work of the British Expeditionary Force, and isthoroughly conversant with the whole line at the Front. 

It was a great pleasure to meet the Bishop of London, just beforeEaster, on his way to the firing line, where he received a wonderfulwelcome from all ranks. 

Spiritual work among soldiers is very real and deep. I question whetherthere is any more difficult place for a man to endeavour to live up tohis convictions than in the Army; and to the Christian soldier, one ofthe surest tests of the reality of his religious profession is thesimple matter of saying his prayers in the barrack room or tent. If aman persistently does that, you may be sure there is something real inhis profession. 

I have already alluded to the deep impression created by the experienceof being under fire. A somewhat remarkable instance in support of thiscondition of mind came under my notice a few weeks ago. The officer towhom it relates will, I am sure, pardon my introducing his experience topoint my moral. He was standing with a brother officer amid the ruins ofYpres, when, realizing that the position was distinctly 'unhealthy'owing to the heavy shelling which had commenced, he suggested awithdrawal from the locality. They had walked but a short distance, whena high explosive shell burst behind them, and a piece of the casingwhizzed between their heads. 'That was a near shave, ' said one; 'let'sgo back and see where it fell. ' It had fallen on the precise spot wherethey had been standing but a minute or so before. The result of thecondition of mind produced by this remarkable 'let off' was a visit tothe chaplain's office. On asking what I could do for him the officerreplied, 'I hardly know, but I want your help. I have never beenbaptized, so I suppose I ought to be baptized and confirmed. ' I pointedout to him that prior to the participation in the Sacrament of HolyBaptism, he had to settle with himself his personal relationship withChrist. By the goodness of God I believe that point was clearlyestablished in his mind, and it was my privilege to baptize him, andthen present him for Confirmation at the hands of the Bishop ofBirmingham. 

This affords another illustration of the wonderful working of a man'smind who comes face to face with Eternity and the reality of God. Somemen at home will possibly be inclined to sneer at such a condition ofmind, but those of us who have been through it know full well theemptiness of such home-bred objections, which certainly do not hold amidthe issues of life and death which are found at the Front. 

I have met many friends at the Base, both among officers and men. It isa pleasing duty to record the gratitude I owe to those in command fortheir invariable courtesy to me, in the prosecution of my work, and thesplendid personal support rendered to me. The personal influence of theofficers goes far in securing the sympathy of the men. 

I have never had more attentive congregations than those which haveformed the various Church Parades and voluntary gatherings which fellto my lot to conduct whilst working at the Base. 

On one occasion it fell to me to conduct a 'Quiet Day' for Chaplains, Hospital Nurses and Orderlies, and responsible though the work was, wefelt it to be a great lift up, coming as it did amid the stress of avery arduous life. 

I frequently had the experience of visiting the different sections ofthe Front, and on two occasions in particular gave addresses togatherings of chaplains, drawn from various Divisions. Those were uniqueoccasions, for one felt the tremendous responsibility of trying to helpmen engaged in such important work. I knew that I was addressing heroeswithout exception, men who were daily counting their lives cheap forChrist's sake. 

A most interesting experience befell me on June 18. With a brotherchaplain I was visiting in the neighbourhood of Ypres, when ascending asmall hill from which one could survey the whole line of trenches, extending from Zonnebec to Ploegstreete, we passed by some reservetrenches in which were a considerable number of men, resting from theirduties in the front line trenches. I had taken with me in the car alarge number of packets of cigarettes, generously sent out by myparishioners, and on asking the lads if they wanted any, I speedilyfound myself at the head of a great following, like the Pied Piper ofHamelin. The men streamed after me in hundreds down to the lane somedistance off, where the car was waiting. It did not take many minutes tohand out a big supply of smokes. While thus engaged, a sergeant madehimself known to me as having heard me give an address down at the Base, and with considerable _naïveté_ he said, 'Cannot you give us a talkhere, sir?' Of course I could! and in less than five minutes there werehundreds of men most picturesquely grouped on the hillside. It wastouching to see their faces as I spoke to them of 'the greatest thing inthe world, ' the Love of God in Christ Jesus; and as I built up myargument of the Divine love by means of the illustration of the love ofhome, many a clear eye glistened. As I closed, I pointed out to them theunique occasion of our meeting, June 18, 1915, therefore the centenaryof the Battle of Waterloo. There we were actually on Belgian soil, almost within gun-sound of the celebrated battle-field itself. As wesang the National Anthem I felt that never had I heard it sung in soinspiriting a manner; and when I called for three cheers for the King, the Germans in their front line trenches, --which were certainly withinearshot, --must have imagined an attack in force was about to take place. Such desultory gatherings go far to cheer a padré's heart as he proceedson the daily round and common task. 

CHAPTER X

A CLOSING WORD

[_Kindly written by_ Colonel E. G. F. MACPHERSON, _Senior Chaplain to theForces_ (_Church of England_). ]

The completion of Mr. Kennedy's account of his work at Boulogne was notfinished ere he entered into his rest. As the senior under whom heserved during the latter part of his term with the Expeditionary Force, I have been asked to add a few concluding remarks, relative to hislabours from the period his own narrative ends. 

Part of Mr. Kennedy's sphere of work lay just outside the Base at acertain place. Here was erected a camp of wooden huts, occupied by aconsiderable number of A. S. C. Dock Labourers. In this camp there was nobuilding where the troops could pass a pleasant and innocent evening, nor was there a church within reasonable distance of the place. This, ofcourse, was naturally a great disadvantage to any chaplain in hisendeavours to get a hold upon the men. Mr. Kennedy felt the need; withhim to think was to act. 

He came to me and requested that I should write a letter to him, askinghim (as he was going immediately on short leave to England) to do whathe could to influence friends at home to supply what we both recognizedwas a crying need. 

Although Mr. Kennedy was only away about a week, he returned withbetween two or three hundred pounds, to start the erection of a Hut forrecreational and religious purposes. 

The next thing to do was to obtain a suitable site, preferably in themidst of the camp. 

Mr. Kennedy obtained the consent of the Base Commandant, and that ofthe officer commanding the camp; the latter especially rendering allthe assistance in his power--particularly in obtaining for us theservices of a competent architect. 

Plans were drawn up and approved by me. It was found that the expensesof the Church Hut would be considerably more than was at firstcontemplated: £600, not £400 as we thought. Mr. Kennedy appealed oncemore to his friends and to the readers of certain religious papers. Pecuniary assistance flowed rapidly in, and we were soon assured ofenough money to build a large and commodious Church Hut. There was to bea large hall, a coffee bar, kitchen, and some small rooms. 

Mr. Kennedy, in spite of much other work in which he was engaged, foundtime to constantly trudge to and fro to the camp, watching, with zealouscare, the erection of the Hut. No less keen and interested spectatorswere the A. S. C. Men themselves, for it meant a great deal tothem--somewhere to go to when work was done, somewhere to pass an houror so. 

Mr. Kennedy's idea was to supply wholesome refreshment, daily papers andmagazines, and games to play. This during the week. 

On Sundays the place was to be 'rigged, ' as sailors call it, as achurch. It was to be used also for Bible Classes and Instructions. 

In wonderfully quick time the Hut was built, and duly opened. Thislatter event happened after I was called home on special duty. 

Needless to say the Hut has been greatly used, both from a social andreligious point of view; and has been directly and indirectly the meansof much good being done. It is another monument to the life's work of anoble soul. 

Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner, Frome and London. 

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