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 fagged 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 worship, 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 relationship 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 pass 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 fortitude 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 circumstances 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 Yorkshire, 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 establishing 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 passing 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 astonishing 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 God, but certainly the realization of the nearness of God 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 assumed 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 assuring 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 God, 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 passed away he said, "Mother, I am in perfect peace with God. Give my love to padre."' Those are the kind of 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. 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 God.

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.

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 question whether there is any more pathetic than a train of wounded men passing down from the Front. Every description of injury is noticeable, for shot and shell are not discriminating. From cases of the severest abdominal and head wounds, the patient being in a more or less collapsed condition, one turns to the laughing lad, with only a clean shot through his forearm, and who still has the exciting influence of the 'scrap' thickly upon him. But slight or dangerous, each requires attention, for owing to the grave danger of septic trouble, the smallest scratch may prove 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 the history of the war is written. From sanitation, to a major operation, this Department is equal to the occasion, and one is lost in admiration at the splendid devotion to duty exhibited by this strictly scientific branch of the service.

Wounded men always possess a sad and enthralling interest to the public mind. It is not morbid curiosity alone which draws men and women to gaze upon 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, and the 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 ordinary wounded man, and clothe him with a heroism which in all probability he of 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 far back in the rear that a 'Jack Johnson' or 'Black Maria' (for we have many names for the German high explosive) has knocked a man out. It is all over in a moment; in the quiet of the night, or amid the bustle of the day the deadly shriek of an approaching shell falls upon the man's ear, and before he can seek for cover—even supposing there is any to hand—the roar of the explosion will probably be the last thing that he will remember before he awakes to his agony. Or nearer to the line, the whistle of an approaching shrapnel speaks of coming danger, and then a prone figure on the ground tells of one more who has been 'pipped,' to use a colloquialism of the Front. When we consider the extreme range of a seventeen-inch gun as being not far short of thirty miles, the difficulty of being out of range is at once apparent. Nearer at hand, within a few yards, an accurately thrown bomb is a fruitful source of injury to our fighting men, whilst in these days of accurate rifle fire 'snipers' mark the slightest movement at a thousand yards. In the fierce rush of the taking of a trench, men are as thick on the ground as the leaves of Vallombrosa. At such times, notwithstanding the specific orders to the contrary, men are constantly helping each other. For brotherly love will assert itself even amid the rush of battle. Here is an order from the 'Standing Orders' of the Seventh Division:—

'Wounded men.—All ranks are forbidden to divert their attention from the enemy in order to attend wounded officers or men.'

But notwithstanding this command, again and again heroic deeds are performed by combatants in their endeavour to get their wounded comrades out of imminent danger.

It was a noble deed of the Rev. Nevile Talbot, who, learning that his brother in the Rifle Brigade was hit, rushed into the zone of fire, only to find his beloved relative dead; straightway he immediately diverted his attention to the need of a wounded 'Tommy' near by. The Rev. and Honourable B.M. Peel was badly hit in the head and left leg, in charging with the Welsh Fusiliers; true, he had no right to be there from a military point of view, but I believe the O.C. had given him permission, and certainly his heroic action inspired the men, and has left a splendid memory in the minds of those who were with him. In such ways the front line of casualties occur. How are they dealt with? I will describe as briefly as possible the procedure which governs the handling of the wounded from the fighting line to the Convalescent Home in 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 the R.A.M.C. I have often been struck with the tender care and solicitude which they bestow upon the wounded coming under their attention. In their ranks are found all sorts and conditions of men: clergymen, medical students; indeed, the premier Earl of Scotland, the Earl of Crawford and Balcarres, enlisted as a Private in the R.A.M.C. and is now a Corporal in a Field Ambulance. Such an example cannot fail to place this distinguished branch of the Service on the highest level of utility and 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 the medical side of the Army. With the lamentable effect of the evil of bad water experienced in the South African war, the Authorities have been most 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 in circulation forbidding men to drink from any other supply. This alone has 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, can realize the pernicious effect of cobbled stones, with their many inequalities, upon the feet of the men; hence in every well-commanded Battalion frequent feet inspections are held—in many instances daily. This simple preventive, coupled with a copious supply of socks sent out by the people at home, has helped the great majority of 'Tommies' to keep their pedal extremities in going order.

The inspection of kit, from a sanitary point of view, is another important phase of the hygienic question. Where men have to exist for days without a change of clothing, it will be readily understood that the effect is extremely prejudicial to health, and therefore a medical supervision of the clothing of the men is of supreme value to their health. In many places facilities for hot baths are provided for the men coming out of the trenches, and greatly is this boon prized. One of the commonest sights behind the firing line is a detachment of men swinging along, 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 are carefully disinfected, and then handed back to them thoroughly cleansed and fit for further use. Notwithstanding all these precautions, there is, of course, a certain amount of sickness which is inevitable among so great a number of men, but it is significant in proportion to the numbers employed. After many months with troops I can emphatically say that the bodily care of our men, by the medical authorities, is beyond all praise, and has done much to preserve the redundant health which is characteristic of our Army in the field. 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness,' and I must add that it comes in a good second in the British Expeditionary 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 the necessary supplies and ammunition are landed, and thence transported to the various Units in the Field. To cope with this vast system of distribution an army of men is employed. It will help the reader to form an estimate of the labour involved in this enormous undertaking if I briefly refer to the various branches of the British Expeditionary Force which 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 mentioned that I spent the greater part of my closing months of service in the Army. I was not attached to any hospital, but had placed in my care the greater part of what I may call the active men. The work was of the most interesting description, and following as it did a strenuous experience with the fighting forces, I am enabled, in consequence, to form a fairly sound judgment on the work of the British Expeditionary Force as a whole.

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, the principal 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. This officer, who ranks as Colonel, has had many years of distinguished service in the Army, and is universally respected. Prior to his taking up the position which he occupied when I reported to him, he was in the retreat from Mons and the battle of the Aisne. The regard evinced for him by all ranks is unbounded. On one occasion I was with him visiting padres at the Front, when an officer pointing to him said, 'There goes the best loved man in the Army,' and I can well believe it. He is at the present 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 Transport Base 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 a regular system of services; but these were at times exceedingly difficult to sustain, owing to the very heavy pressure of work with which the men had to cope; but notwithstanding such difficulties and discouragements, I have every reason to be thankful for the great opportunity which was afforded me.

It was my privilege to prepare men for Baptism, and on two occasions for Confirmation. This solemn rite of our Church was taken on the one occasion 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 the greatest interest in the work of the British Expeditionary Force, and is thoroughly conversant with the whole line at the Front.

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

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

I have already alluded to the deep impression created by the experience of being under fire. A somewhat remarkable instance in support of this condition of mind came under my notice a few weeks ago. The officer to whom it relates will, I am sure, pardon my introducing his experience to point my moral. He was standing with a brother officer amid the ruins of Ypres, when, realizing that the position was distinctly 'unhealthy' owing to the heavy shelling which had commenced, he suggested a withdrawal from the locality. They had walked but a short distance, when a high explosive shell burst behind them, and a piece of the casing whizzed between their heads. 'That was a near shave,' said one; 'let's go back and see where it fell.' It had fallen on the precise spot where they had been standing but a minute or so before. The result of the condition of mind produced by this remarkable 'let off' was a visit to the chaplain's office. On asking what I could do for him the officer replied, 'I hardly know, but I want your help. I have never been baptized, so I suppose I ought to be baptized and confirmed.' I pointed out to him that prior to the participation in the Sacrament of Holy Baptism, he had to settle with himself his personal relationship with Christ. By the goodness of God I believe that point was clearly established in his mind, and it was my privilege to baptize him, and then present him for Confirmation at the hands of the Bishop of Birmingham.

This affords another illustration of the wonderful working of a man's mind who comes face to face with Eternity and the reality of God. Some men at home will possibly be inclined to sneer at such a condition of mind, but those of us who have been through it know full well the emptiness of such home-bred objections, which certainly do not hold amid the 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 is a pleasing duty to record the gratitude I owe to those in command for their invariable courtesy to me, in the prosecution of my work, and the splendid personal support rendered to me. The personal influence of the officers goes far in securing the sympathy of the men.

I have never had more attentive congregations than those which have formed the various Church Parades and voluntary gatherings which fell to 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, we felt it to be a great lift up, coming as it did amid the stress of a very arduous life.

I frequently had the experience of visiting the different sections of the Front, and on two occasions in particular gave addresses to gatherings of chaplains, drawn from various Divisions. Those were unique occasions, for one felt the tremendous responsibility of trying to help men engaged in such important work. I knew that I was addressing heroes without exception, men who were daily counting their lives cheap for Christ's sake.

A most interesting experience befell me on June 18. With a brother chaplain I was visiting in the neighbourhood of Ypres, when ascending a small hill from which one could survey the whole line of trenches, extending from Zonnebec to Ploegstreete, we passed by some reserve trenches in which were a considerable number of men, resting from their duties in the front line trenches. I had taken with me in the car a large number of packets of cigarettes, generously sent out by my parishioners, and on asking the lads if they wanted any, I speedily found myself at the head of a great following, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. The men streamed after me in hundreds down to the lane some distance off, where the car was waiting. It did not take many minutes to hand out a big supply of smokes. While thus engaged, a sergeant made himself known to me as having heard me give an address down at the Base, and with considerable naivete he said, 'Cannot you give us a talk here, sir?' Of course I could! and in less than five minutes there were hundreds of men most picturesquely grouped on the hillside. It was touching to see their faces as I spoke to them of 'the greatest thing in the world,' the Love of God in Christ Jesus; and as I built up my argument of the Divine love by means of the illustration of the love of home, many a clear eye glistened. As I closed, I pointed out to them the unique occasion of our meeting, June 18, 1915, therefore the centenary of the Battle of Waterloo. There we were actually on Belgian soil, almost within gun-sound of the celebrated battle-field itself. As we sang the National Anthem I felt that never had I heard it sung in so inspiriting a manner; and when I called for three cheers for the King, the Germans in their front line trenches,—which were certainly within earshot,—must have imagined an attack in force was about to take place. Such desultory gatherings go far to cheer a padre's heart as he proceeds on the daily round and common task.



CHAPTER X

A CLOSING WORD

[Kindly written by Colonel E.G.F. MACPHERSON, Senior Chaplain to the Forces (Church of England).]

The completion of Mr. Kennedy's account of his work at Boulogne was not finished ere he entered into his rest. As the senior under whom he served during the latter part of his term with the Expeditionary Force, I have been asked to add a few concluding remarks, relative to his labours from the period his own narrative ends.

Part of Mr. Kennedy's sphere of work lay just outside the Base at a certain place. Here was erected a camp of wooden huts, occupied by a considerable number of A.S.C. Dock Labourers. In this camp there was no building where the troops could pass a pleasant and innocent evening, nor was there a church within reasonable distance of the place. This, of course, was naturally a great disadvantage to any chaplain in his endeavours to get a hold upon the men. Mr. Kennedy felt the need; with him to think was to act.

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

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

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

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

Plans were drawn up and approved by me. It was found that the expenses of the Church Hut would be considerably more than was at first contemplated: L600, not L400 as we thought. Mr. Kennedy appealed once more to his friends and to the readers of certain religious papers. Pecuniary assistance flowed rapidly in, and we were soon assured of enough money to build a large and commodious Church Hut. There was to be a large hall, a coffee bar, kitchen, and some small rooms.

Mr. Kennedy, in spite of much other work in which he was engaged, found time to constantly trudge to and fro to the camp, watching, with zealous care, the erection of the Hut. No less keen and interested spectators were the A.S.C. men themselves, for it meant a great deal to them—somewhere to go to when work was done, somewhere to pass an hour or so.

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

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

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

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



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

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