ONE YOUNG MAN'S SUNDAY
_July 25th, 1915._
"To tell you that I am at present on this Sunday afternoon
lying on the grass watching a cricket match no doubt seems
strange. But that is what I am doing--and with quite an easy
conscience.
"We are some miles from the firing line in a fair-sized
French town. It's a treat to be away from the noise of
battle, and from sleepless nights, and in a civilised place
again. We are only here for a day or two, however, and then
on we go--or at least that is the rumour.
"We had Church Parade at 10 o'clock this morning, followed
by a route march, and so we are free this afternoon.
"Two matches are now in full swing, 13 and 15 _v._ the
transport, and 14 and 16 _v._ the new platoons. The platoons
have licked them by 30 runs, 61 to 31 runs. I may say my
interest keeps wandering from the letter, although no slight
to you is meant.
"Now please don't think that Sunday is taken up entirely
with cricket matches and things of that sort. When the Padre
can get round to our battalion there is always a service on
the Sunday. Sometimes a full-blown Church Parade, like this
morning, but these are not what we call Sunday services. The
real Sunday services are voluntary ones, either in the open
or in a Y.M.C.A. hut. The fellows that go--and there are
quite a large number--really go because they feel the need
of such a service--not because it is a parade and they
_must_ turn out.
"Our Padre has been able to get round to us about every
Sunday, when we have been out of the trenches. He is a very
broad-minded chap--is not shocked to see us playing cricket
on Sundays, for he realises that whilst on rest men _must_
have exercise and enjoyment, whatever the day may be. I
asked him once whether he would feel justified in playing a
footer or cricket match on a Sunday, and he said that if he
had been in the trenches for several days, and the day that
he came out happened to be a Sunday, he would certainly
play.
"The services are generally held about 10 o'clock in the
morning. We simply go down and enter the hut or tent and
take our seats. There is nothing formal; the Padre is sure
to be there first, and he sits about and has a chat with
each man before the service begins. The hut is more or less
divided by a curtain or something like that, which separates
the service from the part given up to refreshments, and we
generally sit round in a circle. There is no set form of
worship, and even the hymns are not settled beforehand. The
Padre just says, 'Well, boys what shall we have?' and the
men ask for their favourites, mostly the old-fashioned
hymns, such as 'Abide with Me' or 'Rock of Ages.' Then
follows a Bible reading and then more singing of hymns. The
sermon is generally more of a chat than anything else. The
Padre does not take a text, but talks of the troubles and
difficulties of the day in the most practical manner. I
remember one talk I heard on swearing, and another on
drinking. The Padre didn't preach at us, he did not condemn
us at all. He just gave good, sound, hard reasons as to why
we should not do these things. These friendly chats with
their sound common sense do us far more good than hundreds
of stereotyped sermons.
"The service finishes up with many more hymns and the
Benediction. But even then we do not leave. This particular
Padre of ours has introduced what he calls
'get-away-from-the-war chats.' We sit round and talk about
everything in general--of home, of books, and all general
topics. His idea is that we should try to forget about the
war for that brief half-hour or so. These talks are very
popular; we get large 'congregations,' and these services
really do much more good than the official Church Parade,
when the battalion often has to stand in the cold for about
an hour on end before the service commences."
To this description of religious services at the front Sydney Baxter
adds the following note. You will remember that he writes of what he
himself has seen and felt. He has fought in the trenches, and we who
have not, have got to face life from his point of view if we are to
understand and help him in the days to come.
"The majority of the men who used to attend these services
would probably shock the ordinary church-goer. These chaps
would occasionally swear, at times they certainly got too
'merry.' But this did not make them any the less good
fellows. Unless one has actually been at the front, it's no
good arguing with him or trying to make him understand the
front's point of view. What man who has not been through it
can even dimly imagine the after-effect of continuous
bombardment and heavy shelling? This I do want to say: the
whole time these men were at the services they were far more
reverent than many I have seen in churches in England. On
leaving they would probably speak of the Chaplain as a
_damn_, or even more expressive, fine chap; half an hour
after the service one might find them playing cards, later
on taking rather more than was good for them at the café,
and yet there was absolutely no doubt as to their
earnestness and sincerity or their attitude towards
religion. On the whole they were a far cleaner-living lot of
men than those one unfortunately sometimes finds in a place
of worship in England.
"_They were real good sorts. They would never go back on a
pal._"
One Young Man on Trek