With our Fighting Men Part 5

Then, as an afterthought, 'What Ambulance did you say?' 'Number 14.'

'Do you belong to it?' 'Yes.' 'Then I congratulate you, for if reports are true, you are all that is left of it: it is said to have been wiped out by sh.e.l.l fire.' I said I thought the reports were, to say the least, exaggerated, and rode on.

"Shortly after I heard a familiar voice also asking for the 14th Field Ambulance. It was Major Fawcett, R.A.M.C, who, like myself, had been detached from the Ambulance on special duty. We greeted each other with joy, and for the rest of that awful march had company.

"At last we felt we could go no further (remember, in the last four days we had only ten hours' sleep, and three proper meals), and were in danger of dropping out of our saddles from exhaustion. So we dismounted, sat by the roadside holding our horses, and at once were fast asleep.

"Two hours later we wakened, dawn was just breaking over the hills, and still the column creaked and groaned its way along the road, more asleep than awake, but still moving. A wonderful triumph of will over human frailty. But at how great a cost to nerve and vitality was revealed by one look at the faces of the men.

"I was noticing how worn and gaunt my companion was looking, and was about to remark upon it, but the same thought was in his mind and he forestalled me. 'Isn't it wonderful how quickly this sort of thing tells upon a man? You know, Padre, you look as though you had just got up from a serious illness, and only three days ago you looked as hard as nails, and as fit as a man could be.'

"Soon after sunrise we came up with two of our ambulance waggons and one of our filter water-carts. The wounded were in such a state of exhaustion with the long trek, and the awful jolting of the waggons, that Major Fawcett decided to halt and make some beef-tea for them, so rode on ahead to find some farm where water could be boiled. He had hardly gone when a battalion of exhausted infantry came up with us, and as soon as they saw the water-cart, made a dash for it.

"Hastily I rode up to them, explained that there was very little water left in the cart, and that little was needed for their wounded comrades.

"'I'm thirsty myself,' I said, 'and I'm awfully sorry for you chaps, but you see how it is, the wounded must come first.'

"'Quite right, sir,' was the ready response. 'Didn't know it was a hospital water-cart,' and without a murmur they went thirsty along their way."

Soon the retreat was renewed and steadily they marched to the rear until St. Quentin was reached, where they got their first wash and actually eight hours' sleep. Then on again--back, back, always back.

The River Aisne was pa.s.sed, soon to be regained and made memorable by a brilliant fight. But now it was all retreat. Day after day, night after night they trekked. The days were tropical, the nights arctic.

Often it was too cold to sleep, though sleep was needed badly.

At last, on Sat.u.r.day, September 5, they reached Tournan, south of Paris, and were informed that the retreat was over, and that they would ere long turn to attack the foe who had so ruthlessly followed them.

The men were not down-hearted even through that awful march.

Down-hearted? No! They were always asking when they could get "a bit of their own back." Their one desire was to turn and face their enemy.

This was a retreat, not a defeat. The men were ragged, bearded, footsore, unkempt, but were unconquered and unconquerable. The spirit of their country burned in them and blazed through their eyes, and when the message of Sir John French came thanking them for their magnificent courage and promising them a share in the rounding up, they cheered until they could cheer no longer.

When Sir John French published his first list of names for honourable mention, the names of seven chaplains were "mentioned in Despatches."

And among the seven the name of the Rev. Owen Spencer Watkins was mentioned twice.

No Parade services--they were out of the question,--hardly any short unofficial services such as we grew accustomed to during the South African War. Just a hearty handshake, a "G.o.d bless you," a whispered text, or a hearty word of cheer, but the ministry to the wounded always, and wherever possible the burial of the dead. No more is possible in such a retreat. But the Christian soldier is cheered by the sight of his chaplain. His "494" is never forgotten, and as he pa.s.ses along the lines of the wounded they look up and call him blessed.

Thank G.o.d, the Cross is always where there is suffering and death, and never is it needed more than on the stricken field, or in such a retreat as "The Retreat from Mons."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "IT'S A LONG, LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY."]

CHAPTER III

AT THE FIGHTING BASE

Commissioned Acting Chaplains--All Creeds Partic.i.p.ate--Stories of Christian Workers at the Fighting Base--Pluck, a Miracle Worker--A Whole Regiment Praying--More Chaplains' Stories--The French Mayor's Speech--Protestant Service in a Roman Catholic Church--An Old-Fas.h.i.+oned "Revival"--The Cross upon the Field of War--A Hospital Confirmation Scene--Y.M.C.A. at the Fighting Base--The Story of the German Sniper.

Perhaps this is the best time to say a word about religious ministrations in the Army.

When a soldier enlists he is expected to "declare" his "religion."

Time was when only two forms of religion were recognised in the Army--the Church of England and Roman Catholic. A recruit was asked, "What are you? Church or Catholic?"--that was how it was shortly put.

But that day has gone by, and now all the chief religious denominations are recognised, and the men--to the extent I have already indicated--have the ministration of the chaplains of their own churches. This some officers at first fail to recognise.

The story goes that a captain, who had recently changed regiments and had not as yet become acquainted with the idiosyncrasies of his new command, was surprised at the small muster for Church of England Parade. "You see," explained the sergeant-major, "we've sixteen Roman Catholics, twelve Wesleyans, six Primitive Methodists, two Jews, and four Peelin' Purtaties!"

The Church of England, Roman Catholic, and Presbyterian chaplains hold commissions in the Army. The Wesleyans, although commissions have repeatedly been offered, prefer to keep their ministers under their own control. Their ministers become "Acting Chaplains," and, as I have already indicated, during the present war for the first time, the other Free Churches have been recognised in the same way. When, however, war breaks out, all the chaplains, commissioned and acting, are on the same footing, are attached to some unit, and are under its commanding officer. They all wear uniform, and the only way to distinguish the "Padre" from the ordinary officer is by the black shoulder-knots and the cross on his hat.

At the head of the Chaplaincy Department is Bishop Taylor-Smith, the Chaplain-General. He is a powerful preacher, a good administrator, a broad-minded man, and eminently fitted for his high position. But he remains at home during this war, for the Chaplaincy Department has become a big thing, and only very occasionally can he pay visits to the front.

The chaplain in charge of the Army work at the front is the Rev. Dr.

J.M. Simms (Presbyterian), one of the chaplains who also have the distinction of being Hon. Chaplains to the King. It shows how catholic the Army authorities are, and how little they allow their sympathies to be with any one church, that the man in charge of the chaplains of all the churches is a Presbyterian. He takes this position by virtue of seniority, for Dr. Simms has seen long and varied service; but never before has any other than an Anglican clergyman found himself in command.

The senior Church of England chaplain is the Rev. E.G.F. Macpherson, who served with distinction throughout the South African War and was among those shut up in Ladysmith.

Chaplains have military status. The Chaplain-General ranks as Major-General, Dr. Simms as Brigadier, and the others as Colonels, Majors, or Captains. They do not use their t.i.tle of military rank.

As Bishop Taylor-Smith says: "There are no flouts or sneers against the Sky Pilot in the Army of to-day. Quite the reverse; for does he not bring them comfort and courage, and that quiet confidence which a man of great moral might can implant in the most irreligious mind?...

Sometimes one hears grumbles at having to salute civilians 'dressed up as officers,' but never a word against the Army chaplain--the Padre."

In an interview reported in the _Daily Chronicle_, Bishop Taylor-Smith goes on to say: "Chatting with a senior Army chaplain who had been at the front from the beginning, I was not surprised to hear that he had not once received a snub, for his story confirmed the remarks made to me by Tommy Atkins himself. Down there in the bleak desolation of mud and mora.s.s, with death hurtling through the grey sky, one is face to face with the Unknown, and the man who in his native town never sets foot in church, turns with grat.i.tude to the chaplain to strengthen him with the comfort of G.o.d.... All Protestant creeds are one in the fighting line. If an Anglican minister is not at hand, a Presbyterian speaks a few words, and all of the Protestant denominations work hand and glove.... Only for Holy Communion in the field does he wear his surplice, and usually he invites all, the unconfirmed, or even those of other creeds, to partic.i.p.ate, for any minute may mean death out there."

I can bear this out from personal knowledge. There is much less distinction between the denominations in the Army at home than one would expect, but in the "field" they rejoice in the grand old t.i.tle of Christian, and on occasion each does the other's work.

Every day is a Sunday, so far as the chaplain is concerned. He takes a service when and where he can. He cannot have too many, and the men readily respond to his call.

At the fighting base, however, his most important work lies in the hospital. Here he is sorely needed. The men want him more than they ever did in their lives. And it is his to hear their last words and to tell them of the peace of G.o.d.

We must remember that the fighting base is an ever-moving base, moved according to the exigencies at the front, now forward, now back. It is many miles behind the firing line, far from the sound though not the sights of war. Here are Headquarters, where the brains of the Army do their responsible work. To Headquarters comes information from every available source. The telegraph and telephone instruments tick and ring all day long. Motor cyclists bring their store of knowledge, and aeroplanes, most important of all informants, dispense their news.

Here, also, somewhere among the miles that measure the fighting base, are the base hospitals, where the cases that cannot at once be sent to the homeland are received and cared for; and here, also, are soldiers on their way to the front, or those who--retired from the trenches--are resting until their turn comes to go back.

It will be seen, therefore, that the term fighting base is a very elastic one. It stands for that wide area behind the advanced lines, where all but the fighting work is done.

Now, let us get among the Christian workers and see what they are doing there.

We are impressed with their magnificent opportunity. The men who have been fighting know what it means. They have looked the king of terrors in the face, and they feel the need of a Saviour as never before. The men who, as yet, have not been to the front cannot escape an indefinable dread, and they, too, are ready for the gospel message.

While the wounded--suffering, and maybe drawing near to death--eagerly drink in the words of life.

We will listen to some of the chaplains as they tell their own tale.

We will begin with the Rev. J. Esslemont Adams, of the United Free Church of Scotland. Writing to the _Record_, the organ of that church, he begins by emphasizing the splendid character of the men of the Expeditionary Force. He says (November 3, 1914):

"Of 200,000 men forming the Expeditionary Force only 366 are in prison--one man out of every 546. That statement proves the clean character of the force. Of these 366 men in prison we find that the number penalised for yielding to the sins about which Lord Kitchener warned the troops before they left for overseas is (according to the official returns) one man in 5000. Only one man in 5000 is worthy of contempt. The rest are in gaol for reasons which stir not wrath but pity."

This is a remarkable statement, and when we consider the strain that these men have experienced, and the reasons for their failure as given by Mr. Adams--breaking ranks to seize a bunch of fruit, falling asleep on "sentry-go" and the rest,--the wonder is that there have not been many more. We do not wonder that he adds: "British soldiers have a good name and a good character in this country, and it is well that this be placed to their credit by the people of the Christian Church."

Like all the chaplains at the base, Mr. Adams finds his chief opportunity in the hospitals. He says: