IN CHARGE OF MORALE
If the army as a whole was a story of old skill in new uses, certainly
the most extraordinary single upheaval was that of the Y. M. C. A.
Though it had grown into many paths of civil life, in peace-times, that
could not have been foreshadowed by its founders, probably the wildest
speculation of its future never included the purveying of vaudeville and
cigarettes to soldiers in France.
Yet just that was what the Y. M. C. A. was doing, within less than a
year from the American Army's arrival in France, and its only
lamentation was that it had nowhere near enough cigarettes and
vaudeville to purvey.
It accepted the offer of the United States Government to watch over the
morale of the soldiers abroad, partly because it was so excellently
organized that it could handle a task of such vast scope, and partly
because both French and British Armies had got such fine results from
similar organizations that the American Y. M. C. A. felt itself to be
historically elected.
The Y. M. C. A. had cut its wisdom-teeth long before it became a part of
the army. Its directors had accepted the fact that a young man is apt to
be more interested in his biceps than in his soul, and that if he can
have athletics aplenty, and entertainment that really entertains, he'd
as lief be out of mischief as in it.
But even this was not quite broad enough for the needs of the army away
from home. And one of the first things the Y. M. C. A. did in France,
and the stoutest pillar of its great success, was to abandon the
slightest aversion to bad language, or to the irreligion that brims out
of a cold, wet, and tired soldier in defiant spurts, and to cultivate,
in their stead, a sympathetic feeling for the want of smokes and a good
show.
The secretaries sent abroad to build the first huts and watch over the
first soldiers were men selected for their skill in getting results
against considerable obstacles. Those who followed, as the organization
grew, were specialists of every sort. There were nationally famous
sportsmen, to keep the baseball games up to scratch, and to see that
gymnastics out-of-doors were helped out by the rules. There were men who
could handle crowds, keep an evening's entertainment going, play good
ragtime, make good coffee, and produce cigarettes and matches out of
thin air.
And, most important of all, they were men who could eradicate the
doughboy's suspicion that the Y. M. C. A. was a doleful, overly
prayerful, and effeminate institution.
The Y. M. C. A. was dealing with the doughboy when he was on his own
time. If he didn't want to go to the "Y" hut, nobody could make him.
Certain things that were bad for him were barred to him by army
regulation. But there was a margin left over. If the doughboy was doing
nothing else, he might be sitting alone somewhere, feeling of his
feelings, and finding them very sad. The army did not cover this, but
the Y. M. C. A. took the ground that being melancholy was about as bad
as being drunk.
But, naturally, the Red Triangle man had to use his tact. If he didn't
have any, he was sent home. His job was to persuade the doughboy, not
to instruct him. And before long, the rule of the Y. M. C. A. was flatly
put: "Never mind your own theories--do what the soldiers want."
That is why the "Y" huts--the combination shop, theatre, chapel, and
reading-room, coffee-stall and soda fountain, baseball-locker and
cigarette store, post-office and library which are run by the Y. M. C.
A. from coast to battle-line--are packed by soldiers every hour of the
day and evening.
The "Y" huts began with the army. Before the second day of the First
Division's landing, there was a circus banner across the foot of the
main street stating: "This is the way to the Y. M. C. A. Get your money
changed, and write home." By following the pointing red finger painted
on the banner, one found a wooden shack, with a few chairs, a lot of
writing-paper and French money, a secretary and a heap of good-will.
As the army moved battleward, these huts appeared just ahead of the
soldiers, with increased stores at each new place. American cigarettes
were on the counters. A few books arrived.
The Y. M. C. A. proved its persuasiveness by its huts. A member of the
quartermasters' corps said, one day, in a fit of exasperation over a
waiting job: "How do these 'Y' fellows do it--I can't turn without
falling over a shack, built for them by the soldiers in their off time.
Do I get any work out of these soldiers when they're off? I do not.
They're too busy building 'Y' huts."
The first entertainment in the "Y" huts was when the company bands moved
into them because the weather was too bad to play out-of-doors. The
concerts were a great success. By and by, men who knew something
interesting were asked to make short lectures to the soldiers. It was an
easy step to asking some clever professional entertainer to come down
and give a one-man show. Then Elsie Janis, who was in Europe, made a
flying tour of the "Y" huts, and a little while after, E. H. Sothern and
Winthrop Ames went over to see how much organized entertainment could be
sent from America.
The result of their visit was The Over-There Theatre League, to which
virtually every actor and actress in America volunteered to belong. By
the end of the first year, about 300 entertainers were either in France
or on their way there or back.
Three months was the average time the performers were asked to give, and
they circled so steadily that there were always about 200 of them at
work on the "Y" circuit.
The work of the Y. M. C. A. did not stop with affording entertainment to
the soldiers in the camps. They rented a big hotel in Paris and another
in London, and they established many canteens in these two cities, so
that their patrols--secretaries whose job was to rescue stray, lonely
soldiers in the streets--would always have a near and comfortable place
to offer to the wanderers.
Then they preceded the army to Aix-les-Bains and Chambery, the two
resorts in the Savoy Alps where American soldiers were sent for their
eight-day leaves, and arranged for cheap hotel accommodations, guides,
theatres, etc., and they took over the Casino entirely for the soldiers.
Their field canteens were just back of the fighting-line, and late at
night it was the duty of the secretaries to store their pockets with
cigarettes and chocolate and with letters from home, and shoulder the
big tins of hot coffee made in the canteens and go into the front-line
trenches to serve the men there. In fact, the "Y" men did everything
with the army except go over the top.
The largest part of work of this type fell to the Y. M. C. A. because
they had the most flexible organization ready at the beginning of
American participation. But they had substantial help, which as time
went on grew more and more in volume, from several other associations.
The Knights of Columbus and the Salvation Army both did magnificent
service, in canteens and trenches. And of course the Red Cross took over
the sick soldier and entertained and supplied him, as a part of their
co-army work.
There was one branch of the Red Cross which perhaps did more than any
other one thing to keep up the hearts and spirits of the soldiers--it
was called the Department of Home Communications, and it was directed by
Henry Allen, a Wichita, Kansas, newspaper man.
Mr. Allen believed that a soldier's letters did more for him than any
other one thing, and that, failing letters, he must at least have
reliable news of his home folks from time to time. Further, that every
soldier was easier in his mind if he knew that his home folks would have
news of him, fully and authentically, no matter what happened to him.
So Mr. Allen posted his representatives in every hospital, in every
trench sector, and through them kept track of every soldier. If a man
was taken prisoner Mr. Allen knew it. If he was wounded Mr. Allen knew
just where and how. The man's family was told of it immediately.
Presently, where this was possible, Mr. Allen's representative was
writing letters from the wounded men to their relatives, and was
receiving all Mr. Allen's news of these relatives for the men in the
hospital.
In addition to things of this kind, done by Red Triangle men, Red Cross
men, and the Salvation Army and the Knights of Columbus, all these
organizations worked together to effect distributions of comfort kits
and sweaters, gift cigarettes and chocolate, and all the dozen and one
things that made the soldiers find life a little more agreeable.
There was more than co-operation from the army itself. There was the
deepest gratitude, openly expressed, from every member of the army,
whether general or private, because it was a recognized fact that,
though an army cannot do these things itself, it owes them more than it
can ever repay.