The War Romance of the Salvation Army Part 12

One of the other huts had baked two hundred and thirty-five pies in a day.

The people in Gondrecourt believed they could do better than that, so they made their preparations and set to work.

The soldiers were all interested, of course. Who was to eat those pies?

The more pies the merrier! The engineers had constructed a rack to hold them, so that they might be easily counted without confusion. The soldiers had appointed a committee to do the counting with a representative from the cooks to be sure that everything went right. Even the officers and chaplain took an interest in it.

This hut was in one of the largest American sectors. It was so well patronized that they used on an average fifty gallons of coffee every evening and seventy-five or more gallons of lemonade every afternoon. You can imagine the pies and doughnuts that would find a welcome here. One day they made twenty-seven hundred sugar cookies, and another day they fried eighteen hundred and thirty-six doughnuts, at the same time baking cake and pies; but this time they were going to try to bake three hundred pies between the rising and setting of the sun.

An army field oven only holds nine pies at a time, so every minute of the day had to be utilized. The fires were started very early in the morning and everything was ready for the girls to begin when the sun peeped over the edge of the great battlefield. They sprang at their task as though it were a delightful game of tennis, and not as though they had worked hard and late on the day before, and the many days before that.

It was very hot in the little kitchen as the sun waxed high. An army range never tries to conserve its heat for the benefit of the cooks. In fact that kitchen was often used for a Turkish bath by some poor wet soldiers who were chilled to the bone.

But the heat did not delay the workers. They flew at their task with fingers that seemed to have somehow borrowed an extra nimbleness. All day long they worked, and the pies were marshalled out of the oven by nines, flaky and fragrant and baked just right. The rack grew fuller and fuller, and the soldiers watched with eager eyes and watering mouths. Now and then one of the soldiers' cooks would put his head in at the door, ask how the score stood, and shake his head in wonder. On and on they worked, mixing, rolling, filling, putting the little twists and cuts on the upper crust, and slipping in the oven and out again! Mixing, rolling, filling and baking without any let-up, until the sun with a twinkle of glowing appreciation slipped regretfully down behind the hills of France again as if he were sorry to leave the fun, and the time was up. The committee gave a last careful glance over the filled racks and announced the final score, three hundred and sixteen pies, in s.h.i.+ning, delectable rows!

By seven o'clock that evening the pie line was several hundred yards long.

It was eleven o'clock when the last quarter of a pie went over the counter, with its accompanying mug of coffee. Think what it was just to have to cut and serve that pie, and make that coffee, after a long day's work of baking!

One of the officers receiving his change after having paid for his pie looked at it surprisedly:

"And you mean to tell me that you girls work so hard for such a small return? I don't see where you make any profit at all."

"We don't work for profit, Captain," answered the la.s.sie. "I don't think any amount of money would persuade us to keep going as we have to here at times."

"You mean you sort of work for the joy of working?" he asked, puzzled.

"I don't know what you mean," responded the la.s.sie pleasantly, "but when we are tired we look at the boys drilling in the sun and working early and late. They are splendid and we feel we must do our part as unreservedly as they do theirs."

"No wonder my men have so many good things to say about the Salvation Army!" said the Captain, turning to his companions. But as he went out into the night his voice floated back in a puzzled sort of half- conviction, as if he were thinking out something more than had been spoken:

"It takes more than patriotism to keep refined women working like that!"

These same girls were commissioned also to make frequent visits to the hospitals and talk with the sick soldiers. Often they read the Bible to them, and many a man through these little talks has found the way of eternal life. This in addition to their other work.

One night after a meeting in the hut a lad wanted to come into the room at the back and speak to one of the women about his soul. They knelt and prayed together, and the boy when he rose had a light of real happiness on his face. But suddenly the happiness faded and he exclaimed:

"But I can't read!"

"Read? What do you mean?" asked the la.s.sie.

"My Bible. n.o.body never learned me to read, and I can't read my Bible like you said in the meeting I should."

The la.s.sie thought for a minute, and then suggested that he come to the hut every morning just before first call and she would teach him a verse of scripture and read him a chapter. This meant that the la.s.sie must rise that much earlier, but what of that for a servant of the King?

Just a month this program was carried out, and then came marching orders for the boy, but by this time he had a rich store of G.o.d's word safe in his heart from the verses he had memorized. The last night when he came to say good-bye he said to his teacher:

"Your kindness has meant a lot of trouble for you, miss, but for me it has meant life! Before, I was afraid to fight; but now I don't even fear death. I know now that it can only mean a new life. Thank G.o.d for your goodness to me!"

There was one soldier who went by the name of Scoop. He had been a reporter back in the States and learned to love drink. When he joined the army he did not give up his old habits. Whenever anybody remonstrated with him he invariably replied gaily, "I'm out to enjoy life." On pay-days Scoop celebrated by drinking more than ever.

One day he happened into the Salvation Army hut. Whether the pie or the doughnuts or the homeyness of the place first attracted him no one knows.

He said it was the pie. Something held him there. He came every night. The spirit of the Lord that lived and breathed in those consecrated men and girls began to work in his heart and conscience, and speak to him of better things that might even be for him.

When he felt the desire for drink or gambling coming on he gave his money to the girls to keep for him.

On the last pay-day before he was sent to another location he took a paint-brush and some paint and made a little sign which he set up in a prominent place in the hut, his silent testimony to what they had done for him: "FOR THE FIRST TIME ON PAY-DAY SCOOP IS SOBER!"

One morning a la.s.sie was frying some doughnuts in the Gondrecourt hut, another was rolling and cutting, and both were very busy when a soldier came in with the mail. The girls went on with their work, though one could easily see that they were eager for letters. One was handed to the la.s.sie who was frying the doughnuts. When she opened it she found it was an official dispatch. The others saw the change of her expression and asked what was the matter, but she made no reply while tears started down her cheeks. She, however, went on frying doughnuts. The others asked again what was the trouble and for answer the girl handed them the open dispatch, which stated briefly that one of her three brothers, who were all in the service, had been killed in action on the previous day. The others sympathetically tried to draw her away from her work, but she said: "No, nothing will help me to bear my sorrow like doing something for others." This is the spirit of the Salvation Army workers. Personal sorrows, personal feelings, personal difficulties, hards.h.i.+ps, dangers, are not allowed to interrupt their labors of love. Fortunately, it was later discovered that this message about her brother was unfounded.

A boy told this la.s.sie one day that the next day was his birthday, and she saw the homesickness and yearning in his eyes as he spoke. Immediately she told him she would have a birthday party for him and bake a cake for it.

She found some tiny candles in the village and placed nineteen upon the pretty frosted cake. They had to use a white bed-quilt for a tablecloth, and none of the cups and saucers matched, but the table looked very pretty when it was set, with little white paper baskets of almonds which the girls had made at each place, and all the candles lit on the white cake in the middle. The boy brought three of his comrades, and there were the Salvation Army Major in charge and the la.s.sies. They had a beautiful time.

Of course it was quite a little extra work for the la.s.sie, but when someone asked her why she took so much trouble she had a faraway look in her eyes, and said she guessed it was for the sake of the boy's mother, and those who heard remembered that her own three brothers were in United States uniform somewhere facing the enemy.

There are several instances in which American soldiers coming from British and French Sectors, where they had been brigaded with armies of those nations, have upon entering a Salvation Army hut for the first time without noticing the sign over the door started to talk to the girls in French--very fragmentary French at that. When they found the girls to be Americans they were almost beside themselves with mingled feelings of bashfulness and delight. Most of the soldiers exhibit the former trait.

One boy approached one of our men officers.

"Can them girls speak American?" he asked, pointing at the girls.

On being a.s.sured that they could, he said: "Will they mind if I go up and speak to them? I ain't talked to an American woman in seven months."

Two soldiers were walking along the dusty roadway.

First soldier: "Let's go to the Salvation Army hut."

Second soldier: "No, I don't want to."

First soldier: "They've got a piano and a phonograph and lots of records."

Second soldier: "No, I don't want to."

First soldier: "They've got books and _beaucoup_ games."

Second soldier: "No, I don't want to."

First soldier: "Two American ladies there!"

Second soldier: "No, I don't want to."

First soldier: "They've got swell coffee and doughnuts!"

Second soldier (angrily): "No! I said NO!"

First soldier: "Aw, come on. They got real homemade pie!"

Second soldier: "I don't care!"

First soldier: "They cut their own wood and do their own work!"