With The Immortal Seventh Division Part 5

Such a discipline cannot fail to evoke admiration wherever it is witnessed. It is noticeable among officers and men alike, and tends to weld both in that splendid spirit of comrades.h.i.+p which is so peculiarly a feature of our army at the present time.

In considering the relations.h.i.+p of those in command and those commanded, I must deal with them separately.

(1) Officers: Many years ago--I think it was during the Crimean war--_Punch_ gave a very admirable setting of the British officer in two phases. In one picture was a ball-room in which the whiskered exquisites of that period were seen in the mazes of a dance, and underneath was written: 'Our officers can dance.' The next picture revealed the same men charging up to the guns at the head of their men, and underneath the words: 'But by jingo they can fight too.' There is no doubt that the English 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 as ever. It must have struck the most casual observer that the proportion of officer casualties during this war is entirely disproportionate to the numbers engaged. Again and again this striking fact has met with the severe stricture of those competent to judge; but it is useless to attempt to alter the glorious traditions of the English army in this respect: our officers will lead; and although it may be at a terrible cost, the results are seen in the splendid backing up of the men. In the early days of the war, on more than one occasion, I met with such a remark from working men as 'Let the rich do their bit.' I hold that they have done it, and done it magnificently. No one can read the list of casualties without being struck with the enormous number of what I may call the cultured cla.s.ses which have fallen in the operations we are engaged in. Indeed, there is hardly a t.i.tled family in England but is mourning its dead. Our young officers are entering action with a wild abandonment which it is impossible to realize unless witnessed. Writing home to his people, a subaltern recently declared that he was at the top of the fulness of life. Small wonder that our men will go anywhere and do anything behind such magnificent leading as our officers are giving them.

But this splendid attribute of the British officer is not only seen amid the excitement of conflict. At the end of a weary march when all alike are f.a.gged out and ready to throw themselves upon the earth and rest, the first consideration on the part of the officers is the men; their food, their billets; and when these important questions are dealt with, then, and not till then, with wearied frames, these gallant gentlemen begin to think of themselves. This evokes a feeling which I may not inaptly style, hero wors.h.i.+p, on the part of the men. Frequently, in describing the glorious death of some favourite officer, a man has said to me, 'I loved him like a brother'; and this condition of regard is mutual, for it is no uncommon thing (on the occasion of the departure of the 'leave' train) to see an officer, frequently of senior rank, on spotting in the crowd a non-commissioned officer, or private, from his regiment, 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, of course, be impossible in the German army, but we Englishmen have proved that the most solid foundation of a true relations.h.i.+p between officers and 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 splendid manhood embodied in our ranks to-day. Their language is certainly reprehensible, but after all we must realize that their vocabulary is not an extensive one, and the employment of adjectives which, to a refined ear, sounds deplorable, is only used by them to describe an intensity which no other words they possess would be capable of rendering. 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 across one case of drunkenness; my experience may be peculiar, but I do not think so. To begin with, there is, of course, the very strong deterrent of rigid punishment for such an offence. Again, there are not the facilities for the purchase of strong drink, such as unhappily characterizes the condition of affairs in Great Britain; but away and beyond these preventives lies the fact that every man is imbued with the idea that he must keep himself fit and 'play the game,' and the result is that at the Front to-day we have a sober army. I cannot too strongly warn the men who are at home, preparing for the Front, to watch themselves 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 so responsible a position being in the fullest possession of his powers of mind and body; therefore, I say with emphasis, and I say it to every man going out, keep clear of the drink.

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

But to pa.s.s to the men of whom we are all so justly proud. Their cheerfulness is truly remarkable, and indeed it requires somewhat of the spirit of a Mark Tapley to 'stick it' in such weather as characterized the campaign of last winter.

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

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

I have had many opportunities of watching the fort.i.tude of our brave lads. I should be sorry indeed to attempt to describe what one has witnessed in field dressing stations; suffice it to say that in moments of greatest agony I have seen men bite their lips almost to the flow of blood, rather than emit a groan. Such are the men to whom England has committed her honour, her prestige, even her destiny; and the commission has not been made in vain.

In dealing with 'our men' it would be a serious omission not to pay a tribute to the remarkable collection of Imperial manhood which is now gathered together under our flag. I need not refer to the Canadians or Australians, for they are of our own flesh and blood, but the Indian soldier deserves a word of high appreciation. Side by side with his white brother in arms he has fought magnificently. True, his methods of warfare are different, but in their own particular manner they are just as effective. One of their officers described to me the very great relish with which the Ghurkas approach a German trench. Slinking over the ground with the stealthiness of tigers, kukri between their teeth, they lie silently under the thrown up earth, then flipping a piece of dirt 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 wonder that such men are regarded with terror by the Huns. One day, when a batch of prisoners were brought in, an Indian approached one of them with a broad grin; displaying his teeth, which shone like pearls, he proceeded to show his good feeling towards the German by stroking the man, as a token of amity; but the poor fellow before him imagined that he was seeking a soft place in which to insert his deadly knife, and fairly howled with terror.

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

As the winter draws on apace, the heart of England will once more open in a response to the necessary comforts which her brave sons call for at her hands, and for which they will not call in vain. Let me give a few hints: Tobacco and cigarettes are, of course, always in demand, and under the peculiar circ.u.mstances of this nerve-racking campaign, are more or less of a necessity. Socks, too, are needed, for whether the weather is hot or cold, socks will wear out. The men dearly love sweets, such as toffee, chocolate, peppermints. Cardigan jackets--not too heavy--are largely called for; a packet containing writing paper, envelopes and an indelible pencil are very acceptable; woollen sleeping helmets, and, of course, mittens will not be refused; boracic acid powder for sore feet; anything to do with a shaving outfit (especially safety razors) are gladly welcomed. From country districts a local paper means a great deal to a man, for it keeps him in touch with home affairs. 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. A striking object lesson is afforded on the arriving of a mail, by the hurried withdrawal of the fortunate receivers of letters from the mail bag, like the lions at the Zoo which, on receiving their food, withdraw to enjoy it in solitude. In a word, our men are worth all you can do for them; do not spare yourselves in alleviating the inevitable discomforts, privations and trails which are involved in such work as they have set themselves to accomplish.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Dixies: camp kettles.

[3] Brigadier-General Ruggles Brise, who was very badly wounded shortly afterwards, 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 arrangements exist for every requirement of the soldier. As far as possible nothing is 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 a chaplain's work. Some years ago I was on my way to conduct a Mission in Yorks.h.i.+re, when I happened to meet an R.A.M.C. friend. On my telling him of the errand upon which I was bound, he expressed some surprise, and displayed complete ignorance as to the character of my intending duty.

Accordingly I endeavoured to remove his ignorance by establis.h.i.+ng a parallel between his work and mine. I pointed out that in the visitation of the hospital wards at Aldershot he doubtless became interested in his patients, especially any uncommon or obstinate cases, and to these he would pay especial attention, applying every specific which lay within his knowledge. In pursuance of my purpose I then proceeded to point out that a clergyman's work proceeded upon precisely the same scientific lines. First of all a diagnosis of the difficulties was made, then the specific was applied, but with this difference; medical science is again and again beaten by the ignorance of the precise remedy to apply, even presuming that it has been discovered; whereas the clergyman sets before his patient the unfailing Christ, Who is sufficient for every need of sinful man. I left him I hope somewhat enlightened as to the definite character of a clergyman's ministry. The difficulty of my friend is much the same as that experienced by a large number of people as regards the work of a padre in the field. Let me set before you the different phases of the work which commonly fall within the allotted sphere of a chaplain's duty at the Front.

To begin with there are now two[4] chaplains appointed to a Brigade (in the early days of the war there was only one, and he was usually attached to a Field Ambulance), the one is more particularly responsible for the active men of the Brigade, whilst the other works with the Field Ambulance. (Each Brigade consists of from three to five thousand men and has 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 padre 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 circ.u.mstances 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 inst.i.tuted by our Blessed Redeemer to any particular hour of the day, and certainly the Divine Inst.i.tution was made after the Last Supper, or during that meal.

(3) One of the saddest features of the padre'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 G.o.d, 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 'sc.r.a.p' 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 padre 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 compet.i.tions, 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 padre 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 is impossible to avoid it if he is serving troops under fire, and he must take his chance with every one else. Many times I have been asked, 'Were you afraid?' I am only a normal person, not conspicuous for undue pluck on the one hand, or, I hope, undue funk on the other, but I never got over my fear; of course one grew accustomed to the deadly visitants which 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, 'They do not know what fear is.' Well, if that is so, such an individual is devoid of courage, for the very essence of courage consists in the appreciation of fear, and a persistence in duty notwithstanding. Doctor Johnson was pa.s.sing through a cathedral when he noticed a tomb on which was 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 with his fingers.' General Gordon has told us that he was always subject to fear. 'For my part,' he once said, 'I am always frightened and very much so.' And yet no one in history has a reputation more honestly earned for this real kind of courage, a courage won by personal victory over fear.

Herein lies the essence of the experience of the vast majority of our men; fearing fire, and loathing it as they do, they yet 'stick' it, because it is their duty.

It is astonis.h.i.+ng how soon one grows accustomed to death at the Front.

It cannot well be otherwise; the man you have been chatting to five minutes before is presently borne along dead. The officer who was the life and soul of the mess on the previous night, in some ruined farmhouse, is gone before the morning; and as a man well put it, 'Dying men out here are as common as falling leaves in autumn.'

The religious atmosphere at the Front is unique. I can hardly say that there is what one may term a general turning to G.o.d, but certainly the realization of the nearness of G.o.d and eternity are very present to most men's minds. As a man said up at the Front, 'Out here every man puts up some kind of a prayer every night.' The superficial scepticism which is so largely ethical, or the result of indifference, and which is a.s.sumed by many men in England, has no hold at the Front. One of our best known Bishops was telling me when I met him 'somewhere in France' that a short time back he was about to conduct a service in a hospital ward, in his own city, and upon handing a hymn-book to one of the patients lying in bed, 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, a week at the trenches would take that nonsense out of you.' Undoubtedly our men are being awakened to the tremendous reality of eternal verities, and it behoves us to help them all we can. In this respect the experience of the padre is intensely happy; no work on which he engages is more fruitful than that of upholding Christ before men who have come near the end of their earthly course. Said an officer to me--who had just been brought in badly wounded, and I had written to his wife a.s.suring her that all was being done to alleviate his suffering and to effect his recovery (which happily took place)--'Padre, I have been a wild man all my life, but last night as I lay wounded in the trenches, for the first time I realized G.o.d, and perfect peace came into my heart.'

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 I hardly thought that he would survive the journey; however, in due course he reached England. Some months afterwards I received a letter from his mother, stating that her boy was slowly climbing back to recovery, and thanking me for what I had been able to do for him; which was little enough. At the bottom of the letter was a postscript: 'My darling boy died at twelve to-day. Just before he pa.s.sed away he said, "Mother, I am in perfect peace with G.o.d. Give my love to padre."' Those are the kind of things that make a man thank G.o.d for having volunteered to do one's 'bit' in that particular line of life in which he has been placed. No work is grander than a chaplain's; but I must lay it down as a general axiom, that no man should undertake this particular kind of work unless he knows that he is charged with a message from G.o.d.

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

Amba.s.sador of Christ, you go Up to the very gates of h.e.l.l, Through fog of powder, storm of sh.e.l.l, 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.