A WELL-EARNED REST.
_May and June, 1917._
Three days after we had settled at Bruay I was invited by one of our
staff officers and the Colonel of one of our battalions to accompany
them on a visit to our old trenches on the Somme. We left in the
morning and went south, over the roads and past the little villages
which we knew so well, till we came to Albert. We went up the Bapaume
road, now deserted and lonely. Our front line was some miles to the
east, and so all that waste of country over which we had fought was
now without inhabitants. We left the motor near Courcellette and
walked over the fields to the old trenches where the First Brigade had
made their attack. It was a dreary day. Low clouds hung over the sky
and a cold wind blew from the east. Spring had made very little
advance in those wide fields of death, and the grass was hardly green,
where there was any grass. We walked over the well-known tracks
reviewing incidents of the great battle. We crossed Death Valley and
saw our old lines. The place was so solemn that by mutual agreement we
did not talk, but each went off by himself. I found a number of
Canadian and German bodies still unburied, and all over the fields
were rifles and mess tins, spades and bits of accoutrement. One could
hardly imagine a scene more desolate and forlorn. Every inch of that
ground had been fought over and bought with the price of human blood.
The moan of the wind over the fields seemed like the great lament of
Nature for her sons who had gone. It was impossible to identify the
bodies we found, but we knew that burial parties would soon set to
work to collect them. Over each poor brown and muddy form I held a
short service and used the form of committal from the burial office in
our prayer-book.
It was with a sense of relief that we walked back up the road, past
the ruins of Courcelette, and rejoined the motor. The scene was too
painful, and made too great a pull upon the heart-strings. In the
great army of the slain that lay beneath that waste of mud were many
whom we had known and loved with that peculiar love which binds
comrades in the fighting line to one another--
"God rest you valiant Gentlemen (p. 180)
Who sleep beneath that ground."
Once more, at the end of the month, I paid another visit to Regina
Trench, when I was on my way to place a cross over my son's grave in
the cemetery at Tara Hill. By this time, the grass was green, the
trenches were filling up and in the cloudless blue sky larks were
singing. The impression of dreariness was passing away, and the wounds
on the breast of nature were being healed.
Our life at Bruay as usual was exceedingly pleasant, and the men
thoroughly enjoyed the beauty and the freshness of the country. Games
and sports were indulged in and the nightly entertainments in the
theatre given by our concert party were most enjoyable.
I shall never forget the happy rides on Dandy down the roads and
across the fields to the various battalions and artillery brigades. At
every turn I would meet men whom I knew, and to shake hands with those
glorious lads who had done such great things for the world was an
honour and a privilege. In looking back to that time faces and places
come before me, and I feel once again the warm spring winds over the
fields of France, and see the quaint old villages of Houdain, Ruitz
and Hallicourt where our various battalions were billetted. Sometimes,
at exalted moments, I had meals with generals in their comfortable
quarters; sometimes with company officers; sometimes with the non-coms,
but I think the most enjoyable were those that I took with the men in
dirty cook-houses. With a dish-cloth they would wipe off some old box
for a chair, another for a table; then, getting contributions of
cutlery, they would cook me a special dinner and provide me with a
mess-tin of strong hot tea. When the meal was over and cigarettes had
been lighted, general conversation was indulged in, and there would be
talks of home, of war experiences, and many discussions of religion
and politics. One question which was asked me again and again in
trenches and dugouts and billets was--"Are we winning the war?" It may
be hard for people at home to realize how little our men knew of what
was happening. The majority of them never saw the newspapers, and of
course the monotony of our life and the apparent hopelessness of
making any great advance was a puzzle to them. I never failed to take
the question seriously and give them, as far as I was able, a general
idea of the aspect of the war on the various fronts. In order to be
able to do this I read "The Times" daily with great care. It was (p. 181)
really the only paper that one could depend on, and its marvellous
influence on the conduct of the campaign completely justified its
claim to be still the exponent of British policy, and its inherited
right to the title of "The Thunderer."
Our artillery were still in the line along the Ridge, but our infantry
brigades were all at rest. It was proposed that we should have a
thanksgiving service for victory with each brigade. The Senior Chaplain
of the Corps took the matter in hand with the Senior Chaplain of the
Army. A form of service was printed on slips of paper, and on Sunday,
May 13th, we had services for the three infantry brigades. It was a
lovely warm day, and the services were held at the most convenient
points. The 2nd Brigade were assembled at Ruitz. It was a splendid
sight. The 5th, 7th, 8th and 10th Battalions were drawn up in a great
square, generals and staff officers were present; a band played the
hymns and the army chaplain gave us a most stirring address. The next
service was with the 1st Brigade in a field near Coupigny, where the
1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th Battalions were drawn up, making a magnificent
show of young, ardent and stalwart manhood. The moment it was over the
general and staff were motored over to the 3rd Brigade at
Chateau-de-la-Haie. Here were assembled the 13th, 14th, 15th and 16th
Battalions. General Horne attended this Service, and, after the
religious ceremony was over, gave an address. His admiration for the
achievement of our men was evidently sincere, and he always showed the
deepest interest in everything connected with the welfare of the
Canadians.
Near Bruay on the way to Houdain were some large aerodromes and the
headquarters of the squadron. I had met their chaplain before at
Armentieres when he was attached to the infantry. He very kindly
invited me up to his quarters, and several times I dined with him at
the officers' mess. He was the chaplain of several squadrons, and had
to fly from one to another to take services on Sundays after the manner
of a true "sky pilot." He told me some splendid tales of the gallantry
of the young men to whom he had to minister. On one occasion the order
was given that six German observation balloons along the front line
had to be brought down, for we were about to make an advance. Six men
were therefore, told off for this important but dangerous duty. The
chaplain told me that at once the question arose as to how they (p. 182)
were to dress for the encounter. Should they wear old clothes or should
they be arrayed in their best? They decided that if they were brought
down they would like, by their appearance, to do most credit to their
squadron, and so it was determined that they should wear their newest
uniforms. He told me that to him, who knew the dangers underlying the
enterprise, it was most pathetic to see the young fellows in the highest
spirits getting themselves polished up as if they were going to an
investiture at Buckingham Palace. He had thought of having a service
of Holy Communion for them, but there was no time, so he saw them
start off on their voyage telling them that he would follow them with
his prayers. The danger of such an undertaking was very great, as the
planes had to fly low over the German trenches and then rise up and
attack the balloons. That night six young airmen came to dinner in the
mess as usual, but there were six observation balloons less in the
German lines.
One night when I went to dinner with the officers of the squadron I
was placed at the right hand of the O.C. He was late in arriving, and
I wondered what sort of man would come to fill the vacant chair. To my
surprise, when we were half way through dinner, a young officer, not
much more than a boy came and took the seat and welcomed me to the
mess. I asked him if he were the Major. He said he was, and on his
left breast were several decorations. I was just going to make some
remark about his youthful appearance when he said, "Now don't say it,
Padre, don't say I look young, I really can't help it." I had a long
and interesting talk with him about his work. He was full of enthusiasm,
and his knowledge of men impressed me deeply. There was a large number
of officers at the table all under his command. I thought it was
wonderful that a man so young should have such a knowledge of human
character. This war has certainly shown that mellowed age is not such
a necessary qualification for right judgment as we thought it was. Old
age has had its day, and the young world, that has just been born in
the anguish and travail of the old, must be "run" by young men who
unite in themselves the qualities of judgment and the love of adventure.
The hut used as a mess-room was most artistically decorated, and made
a fine setting for the noble young fellows, who sat round the table
chaffing one another and laughing as if they never had to face death
in the blinding mists of morning or the blazing sun of noon, with the
rain of shells and machine gun fire falling round them, as they (p. 183)
climbed higher and higher like skylarks into the wide vault of heaven.
On the first of June, we were ordered back to the line, and our
Divisional Headquarters was to be divided. The General and staff were
to be at the advanced position in the huts and dugouts on the La
Targette road, and the non-combatant officers were to be billetted
near Villers au Bois in Chateau d'Acq, a comfortable modern house with
a large garden on one side and a pleasant tree-covered hill at the
back. Here, to my surprise and delight, I found myself in possession
of a large front room with furniture in it that appeared almost
gorgeous. I had one comfortable night's sleep in it, but alas only
one. On the next evening, when the full moon was shining with that
fateful power which she has of turning night into day and of guiding
the flight of hostile bombers, we were sitting smoking our cigars
after dinner at the artillery headquarters in the La Targette road,
when suddenly we heard the pulsating buzzing of a German plane. At
once someone called out, "A Boche plane, put out the lights." In an
instant the lights were out, but the fatal moonlight shone with clear
and cruel lustre. There was a huge crash, then another, then another,
then another, and someone said, "It has discharged its load." For a
few moments we waited in silence, then we heard the sound of voices
and men calling for help. I went across the open to the huts where the
staff officers and the clerks lived. The German plane kept buzzing
round and round at a low altitude, the observer evidently trying to
find out what mischief he had done. To my dismay, I found that sixteen
persons including the A.D.M.S. and the Assistant to the A.P.M., had
been wounded, two of them fatally. We could not use the lights in
attending to the wounded for the German airman was on the watch, and
it was not until he went away that we could get ambulances to carry
them off.
The General did not think it was worth while to risk a second attack
by remaining at the place, so, in the middle of the night, with great
dispatch the headquarters was moved back to the Chateau, and instead
of my occupying the mahogany bed in the front room, I found myself on
the floor of one of the huts in the garden. The General quite rightly
and naturally taking to himself the bed which I had left.
Chateau d'Acq was for many weeks and at different times our comfortable
and delightful home. There were many Nissen huts round the Chateau (p. 184)
and under the beautiful trees on the hillside. Here the different
branches of the service had their offices, and the engineers built for
me a little house of tar paper lined with green canvas, over the door
of which was painted the sign "St. George's Rectory." The C.R.E. also
built me a new St. George's Church on the other side of the road. It
was to be the chef d'oeuvre of his architectural skill, and to be made
as complete and perfect as possible. A compass was brought and the
true east and west found. The material of which the church was to be
built was tar paper and scantling. The roof was to be covered with
corrugated iron. The belfry was to be hung this time with two German
gas bells, which were dignified with the title of a chime of bells.
The windows, filled with oiled linen, were to be pointed after the
manner of Gothic architecture. The church was to be cruciform, with a
vestry on one side balanced by an organ chamber on the other. We had a
nice altar, with the legal ornaments, and an altar rail. We had a
lectern, and the proper number of benches for the congregation. We
even had a font, which was carved out of chalk by the C.R.E.'s batman
and given as an offering to the church. The C.R.E., a most devout and
staunch Presbyterian, was proud of his architectural achievement and
told me that now he had handed over to me a complete church he wished
every service which the Church of England could hold to be celebrated
in it. He said, "In addition to your usual services, I want men to be
baptised, to be married, and to be ordained in that church." When I
protested that possibly no men could be found desiring these offices,
he replied, "The matter is perfectly simple. Like the centurion in the
Bible, I am a man under authority. All I have to do is to call up ten
men and say 'Go and be baptised tomorrow morning in Canon Scott's
Church', and they will go. If they don't, they will be put in the
guard room. Then I will call up ten more men and say, 'Go and be
married in Canon Scott's church.' If they don't, I will put them in
the guardroom. Then I will call up ten more men and say, 'Go and be
ordained in Canon Scott's church'. If they don't, I will put them in
the guard room." All this was said with perfect solemnity. As a matter
of fact, when another division was occupying Chateau d'Acq, a man
really was baptised in the little church. It was used daily for a time
by the Roman Catholic Chaplain.
A photograph of the building is preserved in the Canadian War Records
Office. The first morning I rang the chime of bells for the early (p. 185)
service, our A.D.M.S. avowed that he, mistaking the character of the
sound, and supposing that it was a warning of a gas attack, sat up in
his bed in the sweltering heat and put on his gas helmet.
From Chateau d'Acq I used to go and take services for the siege
artillery on the Lens-Arras road, and also at the charmingly situated
rest camp at Fresnicourt. We knew however that a bombing raid might
occur at Chateau d'Acq on any clear night. Whenever we heard German
planes in the air we always felt how unprotected we were, and it gave
us a sense of relief when the buzzing sound grew fainter and fainter
and died off in the distance.
The cool green shade of the trees made a pleasant roof over our heads
on the hot days of early summer, and at dawn in the woods opposite we
could hear the nightingales. Later on, the owner of the Chateau sold
some of the bigger trees, and we found on our return to it in the
following year that the beauty of the place had been destroyed, and
the hillside looked like the scene of a Canadian lumber camp. However,
the rose-trees in the garden with their breath of sweetest odour were
a continual joy and delight to the soul.