“I spoke elsewhere, some time ago, of some of the forgotten and
overlooked departments of our army. There are plenty such, of course.
But one cannot help recalling amongst them the battalion runners, who
carry messages over No Man’s Land, or anywhere, from post to post,
when air and earth are filled with hissing death, and who also act as
guides up to the trenches. They are absolutely fearless. This type
varies from the gaunt, silent figure, that stalks before you like an
Indian through the dark, to the garrulous youth who talks all the
time over his shoulder as he goes. One of the latter was leading up
our men, and the colonel said to him, ‘I hear that these dugouts are
wretched water-logged holes.’ ‘Deed, they are that,’ replied the guide.
And then, gently, as if on a tender afterthought, ‘D’ye ken, sir, I’m
often vexed for you; for I’m perfectly sure that you’re accustomed to
something better than yon at home!’
“Another is the military policeman, who controls and guides the traffic
at the cross-roads, and where there is danger of shells falling, in
such places as the square at Ypres. There, amongst evidences of steady
peril, stands this quiet man with the red band on his arm; and he steps
forward to warn you that it is not safe to be there! I cannot forget
one road, when we were moving up to the front. The stream of life
flowing on towards the fighting area was like the Strand in London at
its busiest. The policeman with uplifted hand was as powerful there
as at home. In a moment, at the signal, limbers, guns, motor-lorries,
ambulances, mounted men, and marching infantry stood motionless till
permitted to go on again.
“The directions we got one day from an Irish policeman were
unforgettable. He said, ‘It’s quite easy, your honor. You see, when you
go into Albert, you don’t go into it at all. But you turn to the right,
keeping well to the left all the way.’ We thanked him, and trusted to
Providence, as we are apt to do where there is nothing else that can be
done; and, following our directions in a general way, we reached our
place in safety!
“Again, you will find, right up behind the front, the roadman busy,
coolly filling up holes that shells have made, and behaving just as
though he were working on a stretch of the Trossachs, or patching up
the rut-worn tracks that the rain has damaged along by Loch Hourn.”
Of the airmen flying their graceful, birdlike craft, he says: “There
can be no braver hearts than those. Many a time we looked up at them,
sailing overhead, and wondered; and the roughest Tommy sends something
like a prayer with them as they go.”