_Taking the Message of Christ to the Battle Lines_
_Told by The Reverend G. Vernon Smith, Resident Chaplain to the Bishop
of London, Deputy Priest in Ordinary to the King_
This is an account of how a Bishop of the Church of England visited
the troops at the front. He went to France as the guest of Sir John
French, Field Marshall of the British Army, to spend Holy Week and
Easter with the troops. The chaplain who relates these experiences
was one of the guests. He said before he left London, the Bishop
received most cordial letters of God-speed from the Bishops of
Canterbury and York. The Bishop's first evening in France was spent
at the Soldiers' Institute at Boulogne, and this building was
packed with soldiers at a concert. He then started in a motor car
for the headquarters of the British Army, where he was received by
the Field Marshall with all the members of the staff. A complete
record of his journeys has been published by _Longmans, Green and
Company_, with whose permission the following chapter is here
presented.
[4] I--HOLY COMMUNION AT THE FRONT
It was in ---- that the Bishop for the first time came close to the
actual front and within range of the German guns. The cars were at the
door of the house where the Bishop was billeted, in a quiet little
side-street, at 6:45 in the morning, for an early start had been
arranged.
We drove through the narrow streets to one of the large Hospitals in
the town, where he celebrated the Holy Communion at seven o'clock for
those of the officers and patients who wished to attend. After this
service the other patients came in for morning prayers, at which the
Bishop said a few words to them. It was invariably the case, when the
Bishop visited a hospital, that there were many patients who wished to
have a word with him. There were always, also, some men to whom, for
some special reason, the Medical Officer or Chaplain wished to take
him, and not infrequently in the Officers' Hospitals there were men
whom he knew personally.
It was, therefore, a hard task to keep up to time in saying "Good-bye"
at a hospital, and Mr. Macpherson, whom the Bishop soon called his
"nigger-driver," and who was responsible for seeing that the time-table
was strictly kept--a task of considerable difficulty--had generally to
remind the Bishop at a suitable moment that his car was waiting at the
door.
In a few minutes we had arrived at the Jute Factory again, where thirty
men were ready and waiting to be confirmed in the little Chapel which
has been carefully partitioned off in one corner of the building.
It had been arranged that on this day the Bishop should visit some of
the London Regiments that have recently gone to the front. Naturally
he always looked forward with special eagerness to an opportunity of
meeting, in these fresh surroundings, London men, to so many of whom he
has spoken and preached in his diocese. Fortunately he was able in the
course of the week to visit nearly all these regiments, although some
of the men who were in the trenches could not, of course, be present
at his services. To us, coming out from London, it was a great source
of satisfaction and pride to hear of the high esteem in which these
Territorial regiments are held by the leaders of our Army.
It was not a very long time, as the motors slipped along the quiet
country roads, before we began to hear the distant sound of guns, and
as long as we were within a short distance of the firing-line there was
seldom an hour in which guns could not be distinctly heard.
Here and there, too, could be seen a battery hidden beneath a belt of
trees, or sheltered under the hedge by the side of the road. We were
curious to see how the countryside would look after its long occupation
by the British Army. We had expected, perhaps, to see more signs of
war, although we had not known what to anticipate.
Beyond the fact that there were many bodies of troops moving on the
roads, and that many farms and other large houses had notices fixed
up outside to show they were the Headquarters of some unit, there
was nothing, as a rule, except in the areas which have been actually
shelled, to give any indication of the terrible nature of the struggle
which is being waged so close at hand. Indeed, if the road took us to
the top of one of the few hills in that country, and we looked out over
the landscape, just beginning to show the first touches of spring,
it was almost impossible to realize that between us and the horizon
stretched that long valley of trenches which divides the two great
armies.
When we drove along the roads at some distance from the actual front,
it was often hard to believe that this was the real seat of war; but a
passing transport wagon or a patrol of cavalry riding by soon reminded
us of stern realities. The recent absence of rain, and the warm sun,
had caused the roads to dry up considerably, and many officers seemed
to be quite disappointed not to be able to show us many samples of
the mud to which they had become so accustomed, and of which we had
heard so much. We wondered, also, very much how the men would look
after their hard and trying winter. Certainly I was surprised to notice
how very clean and tidy they invariably appeared to be; although, of
course, uniforms must show signs of wear and tear. In every case,
except where the men were actually fresh from the trenches, the
Battalions presented a smart appearance.