AT THE FIGHTING BASE
Commissioned Acting Chaplains--All Creeds Participate--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-Fashioned "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 title 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 morass, 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 gratitude to the chaplain to strengthen him
with the comfort of God.... 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 participate, 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 title
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 God.
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:
"At the base there are nine hospitals, some in public buildings, some
in tents out on the plain. Of these nine hospitals, some are filled
with British wounded, others with British and French, and the fellow
soldiers of both--Turcos, Senegalese, Belgians, Indians. The
chaplain's work is principally there, going from ward to ward and tent
to tent, talking on all subjects from the war to the Word of God,
writing letters, or getting those angels of mercy, the nursing
sisters, to write for men too crippled to write.
"As he goes on his way the Padre distributes out of his well-filled
haversack gifts which have come from kind-hearted people at home.... A
fig, a handful of raisins, a packet of 'Woodbines' (greatest of all
luxuries in the opinion of 'Tommies' and 'Jocks'), a box of matches,
an old illustrated paper, a little bottle of perfume, or a little bag
of perfume for the uneasy and restless. These are some of the contents
of the wonderful haversack, and words cannot express the value of the
good things. The men look on them as love-tokens from home.
"These men deserve our best care. They are brave in suffering as they
have been in service. Their pluck is extraordinary, and the instances
I now put down in my note-book prove the assertion.
"In one of the field hospitals there are two men in the same tent, and
occupying beds next to each other. One man has had his left leg
amputated above the knee, the other his right leg. Both are recovering
and are as happy as sand boys. 'Good job, sir,' says one, 'it isn't
the same leg with both of us. One pair of boots will do between us
when we are allowed to get up.'
"In another tent lies a 'Jock' shot in the back in two places, and
with his left arm shattered by shrapnel. He, too, is mending and
developing an alarming appetite for theological argument. Pluck, the
doctor says, is a miracle-worker here.
"In a third tent is a lad with paralysis, the result of a bullet wound
in the region of the spine. He believes he will recover and says he
must hurry up, as no other fellow in the regiment can valet the
Colonel as he can....
"As a rule the wounded are eager for the chaplain's visit. They want a
talk, and very often the talk turns steadily to the thing that counts.
Men are not ashamed to discuss religion, and get to the subject often
without much manoeuvring. That is not surprising. Very many have been
in the Valley of the Shadow, and they tell you that they found God
there. 'One' was with them--they cannot explain it, but they remember
it. And a soldier is a strong partisan. The hard fact is that God was
with them, and now they want to tell you what God is to them.
"One lad (he is little more than a boy in years) said to me when he
was telling me all about the battle of the Aisne, where he was
wounded:
"'I never knew before then what it was to pray. Of course, I had
learnt to say my prayers, but I never really prayed till that day at
the Aisne. We all went into the battle singing "You made me do it, I
didn't want to do it," but when we got in the trenches it was like
hell. You should have seen some men dropping on their knees and
praying. Why, the whole regiment seemed to be praying. I know I was
praying, and somehow I felt better, and I've prayed every night
running since.'
"That plain tale is the parable of many an awakening. It is the
parable of the soldiers' need and vision and faith. They have seen
something, and that something which is responsible for the question
they so frequently ask, 'What is it like at home? Are the people at
home praying? Are they praying for us doing our bit out here, or are
they still going on the old way?'...
"The other day I was acting chaplain at the funeral of a 'Jock,' aged
twenty-eight, who leaves a widow and three little children amongst
that great company at home weeping for their beloved dead.
"The night before he died I said, 'Good-night, boy, I'll be in to see
you early to-morrow morning.'
"The poor fellow knew he might not last till morning; and as I turned
away he tried to raise himself and salute, and then he said:
"'Good-night, sir, and God bless you! and if I'm gone, sir, remember
I'm all right--all right. Send my love to Janet and the bairns, and
tell them I'll be waiting for them.'
"Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. These men are our heroes and God's
own children."
Yes, that is the universal testimony--"brave in suffering as they have
been brave in service." Grand lads these, and we shall never forget
what they have done for us.
My difficulty in this chapter is to select out of the mass of material
to hand stories which will best illustrate the work which is being
done. Much will necessarily have to be put upon one side.
I will turn next to the Rev. Richard Hall. For many years he had been
at the head of the Welcome Soldiers' and Sailors' Home at Chatham, and
in this position had done most effective service for the men. The
Chatham Wesleyan Central Hall is also his creation, and in it he had
led hundreds of sailors and soldiers to Christ. No truer friend of the
soldier and no more efficient worker is to be found with the men.
He, too, tells us something of hospital work at the fighting base. I
quote from the _Methodist Times_.
"One night," he says, "as I was going my rounds, my attention was
directed to a man who was in delirium. I knelt down to hear what he
was saying. His mind was dwelling on his boyish days. He was
repeating--
'Hark, hark, hark, while infant voices sing
Loud hosannas to our King.'
And then he uttered a name--it was the name of 'Peter Thompson.' This
man had evidently when a boy attended our East End Mission, and had
known Peter Thompson. I buried him in the little cemetery close by.
"It was All Saints' Day, a great festival in France, the time when
friends visit the graves of their departed loved ones, and place
thereon flowers. It was a beautiful morning, scores of people were
there, and by invitation of the Mayor, as many officers from the
hospital as could be spared were present also. The funeral service was
combined with the celebration. I conducted the funeral first. At the
close the Mayor made the speech, a copy of which I enclose.
"'Ladies and Gentlemen,--Often have I been proud to state that many of
you have considered it a duty and a patriotic devotion to accompany to
their last resting-place the glorious remains of our Allies who have
fallen on the field of honour, and to show your fraternal friendship
in bringing flowers, a spontaneous testimonial, but ephemeral, which
we will confirm later by a commemorative monument, and we shall put it
up together on this ground of supreme rest.
"'In the name of the Municipal Council of Boisguillaume, ladies and
gentlemen, I thank you one and all.
"'English officers and soldiers,--Be assured we shall never forget
here your brothers in arms. The people of Boisguillaume will make it
their duty to watch over these glorious remains you trust to their
care, and they will regard it as a perpetual honour.
"'When later they bring the younger generation to bow to these graves,
they will ask them to remember for ever that the men who rest here
have shed their blood for France and England, in union of heart with
the civilised nations, in order to fight against the invasion of our
land by the barbarian hordes who are desirous of exterminating justice
and right, our genius and our civilisation.
"'Glory to you, noble heroes, who for the sake of a sacred cause have
sworn to defend France unto death! Carry away with you into eternity
this confidence that you will live for ever in the memory of the
French, who have at present only one heart, one soul, whose gratitude
to you will never fade.
"'Glory to England!
"'Farewell.'"
I have given the Mayor's speech in full, not because such a speech was
exceptional, but because it gathers up into itself the sentiments of
the French nation, and eloquently expresses the reverence felt for our
British dead.
But not only do British soldiers know how to die, but German soldiers
also. They are our enemies, but it is a pleasure to record that many
of the captured German soldiers have their Bibles with them. Mr. Hall
tells of one who died suddenly. His open Bible was found on his bed;
and John iii. 16--"For God so loved the world "--were the words he had
been reading as he passed into the presence of his Saviour.
Mr. Hall also tells of a graceful act of kindness on the part of the
Roman Catholic Archbishop of the Diocese. In company with Father
Bradley and the Church of England chaplain, he waited upon the
Archbishop to ask permission to hold Protestant services in the small
but beautiful Roman Catholic church. The Archbishop received them most
kindly and readily gave consent. By the by, Mr. Hall pays a beautiful
tribute to that same Roman Catholic chaplain whose tent he
shared--Father Bradley. He says: "I never met a more gentle and
refined Christian character. His one thought was to serve others, and
he cared nothing for his own discomfort as long as he was helping
someone else." When they parted--for Father Bradley was the first to
go to the front--the Father's last words were, "Hall, don't forget to
pray for me, underneath and round about both of us are the Everlasting
Arms."
Differing as we do so much from the Roman Catholic Church, it is a
pleasure to record this testimony.
The services in the Roman Catholic church were conducted by the Church
of England chaplain and Mr. Hall. They were united services, for in
face of danger and death all are one in Christ Jesus.
The services were fruitful in results as such services must always be.
Not only did large numbers attend, but doubtless the Great Day will
declare that many received the pardon of sin.
"Padre, did you see me at the service last night?" asked one young
officer of Mr. Hall.
"I did."
"Well, do you know that is the first _voluntary_ service I ever
remember attending, and I have made up my mind that from to-day God
shall have the first place in my life?" A fortnight after he said, "I
thank God that I have been a new man since that day I spoke to you."
That is it--"a new man." God is making "new men" by the hundred, if
not by the thousand, in France and Belgium, and the chaplains are
reverently looking on and praising Him.
The Rev. W.H. Sarchet tells quite a different, but not less striking,
class of story. It is his privilege to record an old-fashioned
"Revival" at the fighting base. Mr. Sarchet has seen much work among
soldiers and sailors. For eight years he was Wesleyan chaplain at
Gibraltar; for another seven he was chaplain at Devonport; for the
last four he has served in the same capacity at Portsmouth, having
charge of the Duchess of Albany's Soldiers' and Sailors' Home there,
and the services in the Town Hall.
In a letter to the Rev. John Bell, Mr. Sarchet tells the story of this
remarkable spiritual movement which has been taking place at the
General Hospital, with which he has been serving at the fighting base.
I give the story in his own words as printed in the weekly article by
the Rev. J.H. Bateson in the _Methodist Recorder_. Mr. Bateson is
Secretary of the Wesleyan Army and Navy Board and Ex-Secretary of the
British Army Temperance Association in India. His weekly article is
replete with first-hand information, and that and its corresponding
article in the _Methodist Times_ are a gold mine in which students of
the war may well dig.
Mr. Sarchet, after referring to the wounded "fresh from the trenches
in all their grime and dirt, torn clothes, broken limbs, and ghastly
wounds," goes on to say:
"In addition to this really distressing work, I am having some most
delightful camp work experiences. Last Sunday week at my second Parade
service--my first was at 8 A.M. three miles away--I discovered by the
very hearty responses in the prayers that there were some out-and-out
Christian men present. I asked them if they would like a voluntary
service at night. They said they would very much, so we fixed it up
for 6.30 P.M. We had a delightful service just at setting sun. I think
that 'Abide with me,' as that crowd of R.F.A. men, waiting to go up to
the fighting line, sang it, never sounded so beautiful.
"At the close of the service, we had an after-meeting by moonlight,
and three sought and found Christ. I announced a meeting for Monday
night, and so we have gone on right through the week, and there have
been seekers every night. At the close of this meeting we enlarge the
ring in the centre, and then invite those who have decided to serve
Christ to come right out into the ring before their comrades.
"It is beautiful clear moonlight, just like day, and out they come one
after another. One never-to-be-forgotten evening we had twenty out.
They kneel down and we pray with them, then close the meeting with
'God be with you till we meet again,' and prayer. Then we take the
names and talk with the soldiers individually. We have enrolled the
names of over eighty men who have come out in this way in the last ten
days.
"The meetings are having this good effect--finding the Christian men
in the camps around. There are several camps and thousands of
men--reinforcements just waiting for orders to move forward. Night and
day men are coming and going. A Christian officer too heard us singing
and has come and joined us. He has been with us every night when not
on duty."
Supplementing this story Mr. Sarchet tells of another series of
meetings still proceeding as he wrote. He says:
"A large number of our mounted men have recently gone forward, so this
week we started in the infantry camp, which is about three miles away.
We had our first open-air service there on October 26. We were only
two when we started, but a great crowd before we finished, with eleven
men out in the ring seeking Christ. This is grand work. The weather
has turned very wintry and wet this week, but the Camp Commandant has
promised me a store tent for our meetings, so we shall go on."
What wonderful scenes these are when you think of their setting and
the men who were the chief actors! As Mr. Bateson says: "In the Nile
Expedition, in the South African Campaign, in the frontier work in
India, there have been many soldiers who, here and there, have
surrendered their lives to Christ, but this 'Revival' in the British
Expeditionary Force in France is surely unique in the history of war."
We picture the scene--not a Salvation Army ring in some country town
in England, but crowds of khaki clad soldiers, supposed to be
trifling, light-hearted, devil-may-care. But here they are out in the
open, in full view of hundreds of their comrades, surrounded by great
camps, humbly kneeling in penitence at the Throne of Grace, "owning
their weakness, their evil behaviour," and pleading "God be merciful
to me a sinner." So strangely, yet so powerfully, stands the Cross
upon the field of war.
Another beautiful little picture is presented to us by Mr. Sarchet in
another letter--a gathering of twenty-six soldier lads on the
afternoon of the Lord's Day.
"We had a talk about temptation, and then celebrated Holy Communion.
It was all out in the open in a little wooden dell. I had my portable
camp table. It was a very gracious and never-to-be-forgotten time, as
we knelt there on the grass, with a beautiful clear sky overhead.
There seemed absolutely nothing between us and God, and the presence
of the Risen Christ was a great reality. Before next Sunday some who
were there will be fighting in the trenches, but they will carry the
memory of this soul-hallowing time with them."
[Illustration: BISHOP TAYLOR-SMITH, CHAPLAIN-GENERAL.
Rev. E.L. Watson, Senior Baptist Chaplain at the Front.
Rev. O.S. Watkins, Senior Wesleyan Chaplain at the Front.
Rev. J.M. Simms, D.D., K.H.C., Presbyterian, Principal Chaplain
at the Front.
Rev. E.G.F. Macpherson, Senior Church of England Chaplain at
the Front.]
So out there in France our soldier lads "do this" in memory of Him
"until He come."
Before I pass from the record of the directly spiritual work at the
fighting base, let me tell the story of a unique confirmation--a
confirmation without lawn sleeves. Bishop Taylor-Smith was the chief
actor in this strange scene. A Church of England chaplain represented
to him, during his visit to the front, that there were some men in
hospital, badly wounded, who desired confirmation. The Bishop gladly
consented to confirm them. They could not come to him, and so he went
to them. But it was not in his bishop's robes he went. He was on
military duty and he went in his military uniform as major-general.
There was no attempt to get a congregation. The Bishop was only
attended by a chaplain and Scripture reader. He first went to a ward
where lay two lads side by side, each with his right leg amputated
above the knee. They were simple country lads and they were crippled
for life. Their hearts had been won for Christ, and they desired to
give their lives to Him. The Bishop spoke words of hope and cheer, and
laid his hands upon them. Then he went to another ward where lay a man
with a terrible shrapnel wound in his arm. Him also the Bishop
confirmed. In the next ward were two men--older men these--who had
known agonising pain. Their beds had been brought together, and upon
these also the Bishop laid confirming hands. Then he passed to the
church where the convalescents who desired confirmation could receive
his Church's rite.
A simple record this, but I fancy we shall search history in vain for
any other story of a bishop in military uniform administering the rite
of confirmation to wounded soldiers.
* * * * *
A word about the Y.M.C.A. work at the fighting base. It is being
carried on there much as in England. Wherever possible Camp Homes are
being erected, and the work done in them not only keeps the men out of
temptation, but is the means in many cases of turning their steps
toward Christ and heaven.
Mr. A.K. Yapp (the General Secretary) has recently paid a visit to
France and reports most cheerily of the work done there. They have
received ready help from both officers and men. In the erection of
Queen Mary's Hut, for instance, every consideration has been
exhibited. Materials have been carted free of charge, and other
important and valuable concessions made, which have proved of the
greatest service.
The work by the Y.M.C.A. in the Indian hospitals is exceptionally
interesting. Those who are in charge can speak Hindustani, and are
able to render many kindnesses to these brave Eastern fighters. They
cannot, of course, undertake Christian teaching, but they are able to
show the Christian spirit, and the lesson will not be lost on the sick
and wounded Indians.
The more we study the work of the Y.M.C.A. for our soldiers in this
war, with its branches now grown to nine hundred, the more we shall
agree with the statement of a British officer: "You Y.M.C.A. people
are marvellous."
And the men--what of the men among whom these chaplains and "Y.M.C.A.
people" and others work? "The men," said General Buller in South
Africa, "are splendid." That is still the verdict--the universal
verdict--they are _splendid_. Everybody loves Thomas Atkins who knows
him; cheerful and kindly, ready to do anyone a good turn, heroic in
action, patient in suffering, tender and chivalrous to women, he has
set us all an example in this war. And he has done with the greatest
ease what some people in this country find it so difficult to
accomplish; he has shown us, as I have already indicated, how to fight
his enemy and to love him too.
The Rev. Harold J. Chapman, M.A., vouches for the truth of this story
told him in artless fashion by the hero of it. A German sniper was in
a tree some distance from a small company of our men. He wounded one
of our lads, and the pal of the wounded lad, lying not far from him,
said, "I'll have to bring that fellow down, or he'll be hitting _me_
next." So he took aim and fired, and the German sniper dropped from
the tree wounded. The ambulance that carried to the rear the wounded
British soldier took also the German sniper.
After some days, to their astonishment they found themselves opposite
each other in the same compartment of the same train.
"Well, what did you do?" said Mr. Chapman. "Did you hit him?"
"Oh no! why should I hit him? I couldn't speak his 'lingo,' and he
couldn't speak mine, so I smiled at him and he smiled back at me. Then
I offered him a cigarette, and he offered me one of his, and we were
the best of pals all the journey."
That is it, the man who had shot the British soldier, and the man who
had been shot by his pal, the best of friends! After all, why should
not nations emulate the example of their soldiers?
Aye! They have seen suffering--these men--and they have risen superior
to it, and speedily they forget the suffering, but they never forget a
kindness shown. As Private Simmons of the 1st Cameronians says: "I
have seen hell, for I have seen war, and I have seen heaven, for I
have been in hospital."
They are worth all that is being done for them--these splendid
fellows--and still they go on singing, the words that Mr. Robert
Harkness has recently written for them:
Sometimes the clouds hang heavy and low,
Nor can we see each step as we go;
No silver lining the cloud doth bestow.
Are we down-hearted? No!
Bravely we march in the battle of life.
Fierce is the conflict, the turmoil, and strife;
Fraught with such peril, danger so rife,
Are we down-hearted? No! No! No!