_Told by the Right Reverend H. Russell Wakefield, Bishop of Birmingham_
This is an account of how the Bishop, accompanied by the Lord
Mayor of Birmingham, went to the fighting lines to visit the staff
at headquarters. They were at times within thirty-five yards of
the German trenches. His impressions have been recorded in a
volume published by _Longmans, Green and Company_, from which the
following incidents are taken.
[14] I--THE HUMOUR OF BRITISH "TOMMIES"
Whenever, in future, I am inclined towards a fit of pessimism, I
shall shut my eyes in order to see once again, with the vision of the
spirit, a stalwart Britisher of the Worcester Regiment, not very far
from the German lines, on a certain afternoon, when a most appalling
thunderstorm was raging and some German shells were falling. He was
munching the thickest slice of bread and jam that I have ever seen,
and looking with a mild contempt at the intruding figure of an unknown
padre whom a considerable number of his comrades were greeting because
they recognised in him their Bishop. He put down now and again his
refreshment in order to do some bit of work, but he was just as calm
and collected as if he had been in his Worcestershire village and not
in the trenches.
That which carries our men through so many difficulties is another
thing which impressed me--namely, their unfailing sense of humour; a
humour which is never really hurtful even when exercised upon some one
deserving of satire. When he christens a road along which there are
a couple of miles of Army Service carts "Lorry Park," when he finds
every kind of strange anglicising for Flemish or French words, we know
that he is not only having some fun for himself, but also providing
amusement for those who come after him. The same humour shines out when
he is in hard case. A chaplain told me that he had been addressing
informally some wounded men who had just arrived from the trenches.
He was expatiating upon the glories of the Victoria Cross because he
noticed some of the men came from a regiment one of whose number had
recently received that coveted distinction. Suddenly his eloquence was
disturbed by a voice proceeding from a man, both of whose feet were
swathed in bandages, who remarked, "Never mind the Victoria Cross, give
me the Victoria 'Bus!" Obviously the soldier's sense of humour was
conquering his pain, and his remark made the rest of the party forget
their sufferings for a short time....