In June 1917 I shared a G.H.Q. car with the Chaplain-General to the
Forces, Bishop Gwynne, who was on his way from St. Omer to Amiens,
whilst I was on my way to the Third Army School at Auxi-le-Château.
During the journey our conversation turned to chaplains, and the bishop
asked me whether I thought the chaplains then coming to France were of
the right type, especially from the point of view of the regimental
officers and men. My reply was that the chaplains as a whole differed
very little from any other body of men in France: they were either men
of the world and very human, and so got on splendidly with the troops,
or else they were neither the one nor the other, cut very little ice,
and found their task a very difficult one.
The Bishop then told me the following story, which he described as
perfectly true:
"A chaplain attached to a London regiment made a practice
of always living in the front line whenever the battalion
went in to the trenches rather than remaining with Battalion
Headquarters some way back, and he had his own dug-out over
which appeared the words 'The Vicarage.'
"One day a young Cockney in the line for the first time was
walking along the trench with an older soldier, and turning a
corner suddenly came on 'The Vicarage.'
"'Gorblimey, Bill!' he said, 'who'd 'ave fought of seein' the
b---- vicarage in the front line?'"
"Immediately the cheery face of the padre popped out from
behind the blanket covering the entrance and a voice in reply
said: 'Yes! And who'd have thought of seeing the b---- vicar
too?'"
"That's the kind of chaplain," said the Bishop, "I'm trying to get them
to send out to France."--_(Brig.-Gen.) R. J. Kentish, C.M.G., D.S.O.,
Shalford Park, Guildford._