Souls in khaki, being a personal investigation into spiritual experiences and sources of heroism among the lads in the firing line

Foreword

BY GENERAL BOOTH

War is a confession of failure — a failure to live even on the level of an intelligent humanity. It is, in fact, a descent into the realm of nature "red in tooth and claw" — the realm, that is, of the fighting beast. And the fighting beast at a time when we can only see blood-shot eyes and blood-stained lips. But even so, it is not wholly bestial; sentiments of mutual respect for desperate foes, some regard for courage and endurance, some admiration for sacrifice, remain. Men do not finally lose control of themselves even in battle, nor do they depart wholly from submitting to the control of others.

The overwhelming sense of force and the appeal to force which takes possession of the mass in war and war time cannot destroy, may even encourage, the higher sense of the spiritual and the mystical. Men have said to me that in the very agony of conflict, and while the heavens were darkened with shot and shell and the earth itself shook under their feet, they have been more intimately conscious of the reality and presence of the Divine than in the quietude of normal life. I confidently anticipate that many men will return from their awful and cruel experiences of the war with a quickened sense vi FOREWORD

of the supernatural, and with a new power to "lay hold" of the eternal things.

And amid the abyssmal darkness in which the elemental forces rage and tear and slay, and while death — on a scale never before dreamed of — looks on, some other good things emerge and stand up and challenge. Love for country and human kind; love for home and wife and bairns — these are always to be found in every army, shining with a peculiar charm against the dark background of misery and hate. Love for God; love for goodness; devotion to comrades even unto death; surrender to a great cause; personal sacrifice for another's life; — these also are among the sweet and flagrant flowers that bloom even upon the stricken fields of war.

This little book, by a writer who describes what he himself has seen, and who has a gift both for the seeing and the describing, tells of some of those precious growths in the desert — few in number, no doubt, but so rich in their inherent force and beauty as to make the blood-stained wilderness blossom as the rose. For us of the Salvation Army the present fratricidal war is an inscrutable agony. Nevertheless it may be that, when much that now fills with horror a world of woe has passed away for ever, gracious deeds and experiences such as are referred to in the following pages may still remain a precious and enduring heritage to all who believe in the grace of God and in the power of Love.

International Headquarters of the Salvation Army, London, E.C.

February 191 7.

Contents

PAGE

Introduction . . . . i . xv

Chapter I

A church without laity — The sailor and the spar: superlative unselfishness — In British Army camps — Salvation Army huts — Human attitudes: natural and acquired — An interview in the scullery — The Adjutant's statistics — Sausages and pathos — A Scotchman's postponed decision — The sacrifice and its sequel: testimony of the rescued sailor . 23

Chapter II

Soldiers and Salvationists: the link of sympathy — Affectionate cookery — A subtle attraction — Chris Lovell — Sweethearts and the penitent-form — Serving in two armies — The love of life V. the power of compassion — A deed of double

glory — Chris's radiant death 33

vii viii CONTENTS

Chapter III Page

A hero's midnight conversion — Kerbstone devotions — Instructive boxing-gloves — A peace-loving lad as a fearless fighter — Another glimpse of shipwrecked Brum: succouring the screaming boy — A cloud of Salvationist heroes — Godly men v. daredevils — The faith that knows no fear — A soldier lad and his frivolous mother — Bedside prayers in the men's quarters — Half-measures resented — Why? . . 46

Chapter IV

Civilian khaki — Repressed emotion at Victoria — Officers and their relatives — The mother: an incident — Thoughts on the train — Innocent hypocrites — The smell of the sea — An emotional reaction — High spirits afloat — England in France — A town's tribulation — Red Cross work: dramatic night scene — Unloading a hospital train — Smiles from a Salvation Army ambulance — Depressing stretcher cases — Instructive sitting cases — Thrilling fortitude . . , .60

Chapter V

In a transformed Casino — The man of many wounds: a smile framed by lint — Captors of the Bluff — Irrepressible invalids — Map-making on a bed quilt — Heroes in their

CONTENTS ix

PAGE teens — A blushing British soldier — "We young chaps are just as brave" — Cuddling the Bible: a story left untold — A man without hands — The Salvationist lass and the cigarette — Studies in gratitude — At the Canadian hospital — Death-bed rapture — Looking into a mother's eyes — Gasping and chatting — A letter to Aunt>' — Salvationist sisters: welcome friends and messengers — Unselfish crusaders meet . 74

Chapter VI

A personal confession — Preliminary excursions from G.H.Q. — Graduated doses of danger — A disappointing hill — Shattered housefronts — Impressive preparations: maps, binoculars, and a lunch-basket — The fraternal War Correspondent — An unaltered countryside — Within sight and sound of gun-fire — Peace and War, mixed — Shells bursting overhead: a dainty spectacle — Our ascent of the Fosse — Watching an air fight — Attentions from a German battery — Retreating with the lunch-basket — A shower of bullets — Seeking shelter — Water tanks or gasometers? . . .84

Chapter VII

A cemetery by the sea — Standing amid regiments of crosses — Five coffins and some singing birds — Salvationists and the bereaved — Letters of passionate gratitude — Graves under fire — Smoking debris and stoical civilians — French village

CONTENTS

PAGE

or British citadel? — The old man and his garden — A demolished church — The surviving Calvary — An astonished Colonel — The mortuary — Tommy's dinner — A crimson stain — Musical bullets — Hiding from a German airman — Inspecting a military post — The youthful O.C. — His damp dug-outs — Pathetic fruit trees — A startling British battery — "Playing at soldiers": bright memories — ^Personal sensations 9^

Chapter VIII

A costermonger and his comrades — "A button short" — ^EflFect of a first shell — In bombarded trenches — An impromptu religious service — "God bless you, Jimmy" — Prayer and its fruits — "Mumming" a hymn — Men hungry, but not for meat — Resumed devotions — "Like being in Heaven" — The absentee — An unofficial chaplain — In the rest camp — A revival of bad language — Jimmy's venture — A remarkable gathering — Thirty converts — Nightly meetings of growing influence — An officer's testimony — Jimmy injured by liquid fire — His nev? appointment — Fish and chips

Chapter IX

Attached to a battalion — The considerate Adjutant — My servant — Taking meals with the subalterns — A mess joke — Story of an irate Major — Joseph's testimony — A Ramsgate

CONTENTS xi

PAGE

Salvationist — My tent — Reading in bed — The salient at night — Memories of Tiberias — My unsuccessful petition — Transferred to another regiment — A friendly Quartermaster — Listening to the pipes — The Gay Gordons and their dead — Buttered toast from the Quartermaster-sergeant — The spiritual experiences of Sergeant Withers — Living by faith under fire — Obstructed moonlight: an answer to prayer — The faithful Sergeant's splendid bravery 120

Chapter X

The Quartermaster's story — Seven hours of din and slaughter — Mothering the prisoners — A Lieutenant's experiences: held, wounded, crippled, threatened, and cheerful — Concerning death: fallacies confuted by experience — Mrs. Booth and the Empress mourners — The best-liked man of the regiment — A War Cry monopoly — Droll adventure of the mascot — A gunner's eloquent silence — The Teetotal Division — No use for rum rations — The Quartermaster and the Salvation Army: an unexpected tribute — "My little red jersey" 130

Chapter XI

The distraught-looking lunatic asylum — A civic nightmare — Arrested — Taken before the authorities — Permission to look round — A city of brand-new ruins — Shells prettily xii CONTENTS

PAGE

bursting— Skeleton walls and hillocks of debris— The song of the birds— Inside the wrecked cathedral— Unexploded shells— Looking for the Cloth Hall— A tour of private houses— Pathetic medley of domestic articles— The surviving garden— Corporal Clegg and the wounded bird- Confidences in a church— His Salvationist associations— Ypres by moonlight— My droll predicament 141

Chapter XII

At Brigade Headquarters— A benign General— His hospitable offer— Out in the mist once more— My placid escorts- Confidence under fire— The workings of Divine Justice- Mud, rats, and bullets— Meeting sleepy Tommies— White crosses: an optical illusion— The sentry's challenge— Arrival at the dug-outs— The doctor's tidings— A subterranean surgery— Overtaking wounded men— The field hospital—Suspected as a spy— An astonished surgeon . . I53

Chapter XIII

Two typical casualties— Invalids bashfully grinning— Their bullet wounds— Comments of the kindly surgeon— What became of the beef tea— My night in a dug-out— Mistaken for the Colonel— A terrifying tail— Broken slumbers— An appetising breakfast— Setting forth with the Captain— War

CONTENTS xiii

PAGE landscape — Wading through the trenches — Our men under fire — The dead lad — Bodies in the parapet — A peep at the shattered "International" — Thirty yards from the foe . 163

CHAPTER XIV NO man's land

The soothing front line — Peeping over the parapet — Dead earth — Periscope pictures — Significant streaks of shadow — Tins and tatters — Military scavengers — Sunshine and a skylark — Tommy's comforters — What the birds were saying — German trenching tools — Other interesting relics — Waterproof fire-lighters — Watching an aerial battle — The stricken plane — Back in the open — Barred by falling shells — The "burst" described — An inconvenient alternative 175

Chapter XV

An Easter reminder — My Yorkshire guide: typical unselfishness — A treat for stranded aviators — Ypres in a new aspect — Shell holes galore: a landscape with the smallpox — Watching a frog — The foundered biplane — Projectiles en route: streaks of grating noise — Bursting shells — Our narrow escape — Waiting at the roadside: a trying experience — The deafening British battery — Mysterious absence of a limber — Dodging the shells: a lad's startling manoeuvre — Tranquil Tommies — Our tramp along the road — Bad language: an exceptional experience — Welcome eggs and chips 1S6 xiv CONTENTS

Chapter XVI Page

War Office brotherliness — Colonel Bate's hospital — Effective treatment of war-worn soldiers — The registration of British graves — Testing the records — Pressed flowers in an official envelope — The tenderness of militarism — An interview at G.H.Q. — The General's reproof — Adventures at La Bassee — Smiles and sniping — An incident in a crater — Attached to a Public Schools battalion — My orderly and his pathetic experiences — A Stepney boy — Horseplay arrested by hymns — A Cockney climbing the Golden Stairs — "I know that His arras are round me" . .199

Introduction

On the outbreak of war — a time so fruitful in false surmises and unfounded misgivings — I remember feeling very sorry for the Salvation Army.

Hitherto a source of strength, its international character seemed, in the catastrophe that had overtaken the human race, a source of weakness. The Church of England, like each of the Nonconformist churches, operated almost entirely within the shelter of one Empire, and wholly within the sanction of one patriotism. But the Salvation Army was German as well as British, French and Belgian as well as Austrian; it belonged, in fact, not only to every belligerent country, but to the neutral ones as well. In width of range it was comparable only with the Church of Rome, but (and this made all the difference) its cosmopolitan character, unlike that of the Church of Rome, had no legal safeguards, nor were its headquarters on denationalised soil. As an organism having the heart in London and arteries radiating thence all about the habitable globe, the Salvation Army seemed peculiarly at the mercy of a European war; and in imagination I saw several of the chief arteries severed and the organism left shrunken and enfeebled.

It was the easier to be fearful for the Army, I think, because of a piteous calamity that befell it svl INTRODUCTION

a few weeks before, when a large company of Salvationists were lost with the s.s. Empress of Ireland. They had been journeying to the Army's jubilee celebration in London : a unique congress that prospered exceedingly, it is true, as a demonstration of the extent to which recruits had been won among all races of the world — white, black, brown, yellow, and red. For the effort involved in thus focussing its world-wide forces, the Army had looked for a return — in the outpouring of newly generated zeal — when the delegates should have gone back to their various national spheres; but the travellers were scarcely home again before peace on earth ended, and, the chief energ}' of the civilised world being now directed to the slaughtering of men, the prospect looked black for a body that aimed at saving them. Nor did there seem merely abstract reasons for pessimism. While threatening to decrease the earning power of many citizens and increase the cost of commodities, the war demanded for its purposes vast present and prospective revenues compulsorily contributed to the State, and for its consequences an unprecedented volume of voluntary contributions; so that the new financial experiences of the nation, and especially the enormous drain on sources of charity, might well be expected to react injuriously on organisations which, like the Salvation Army, depended solely upon free-will offerings.

But those forebodings were ill-founded; indeed, it is scarcely an exaggeration to say that facts have proved the direct contrary of surmise. Those forebodings were based on a reasoning that lacked faith, and, consequently, insight. Reviewed in the light

INTRODUCTION xvii

of developments, they are seen to have Involved that, in the overruling of this planet's affairs, the old order was reversed and Evil had gained ascendencyover Good — an impossibility.

The situation was this: Besides enormously increasing the sum of human suffering (and consequently the scope for human sympathy) the war had opened new fields of social service, without closing the old ones. That is to say. If there were diminished facilities for the Salvation Army, there was increased occasion for the Salvation Army. And the end — as is usual in the domain of altruism — compelled the means; the case being covered by that divine law which ensures prosperity for good works undertal^^en with unfaltering faith.

In other words. If, following upon the outbreak of war. General Booth and his counsellors had wrung their hands and exclaimed, "Alas! our organisation is maimed and our revenues threatened, so we must curtail our activities and refrain from any new ones" — then, most assuredly, would events have justified their fears; but. Instead, General Booth and his counsellors looked calmly into the storm, and, perceiving the social problems it had occasioned (notably those associated with vast congregations of men and lads cut off from the consolation and safeguard of home ties), set about supplying solutions — with what success this little book will reveal.

And since the reader may already be generally aware of the Salvation Army's new work, in the spheres both of warfare and of war preparation, he may regard as superfluous the foregoing reflection xviii INTRODUCTION

of early misgivings that have been so happily falsified by events. But it is fitting that the author should begin this narrative — a narrative of adventures and discoveries made among two armies on a double battlefield — in the humble, frank, and confessional spirit in which he proposes to continue it.

There were other stages of his investigations when fact proved wholly different from anticipation; nay, these pages will largely record the disintegrating Influence of experience on preconceived ideas.

Not, however, that there is anything exceptional In the war having upset one's opinions about the war. And if criticism and prophecy have been so frequently at fault in the military and political spheres, much mental uncertainty, and a free Indulgence In hypothesis, might perhaps reasonably be allowed to one who, leaving the beaten track, sought to study war In its psychological and spiritual — In other words, In its personal — aspect.

War to me (before and after this one broke out) was a frightful enigma; an unthinkable nightmare; a horror Inconceivable. It frightened my imagination and baffled my mind. Most newspaper articles and all history books seemed to suggest that national greatness rested on a basis of determination and blows; and It had long been a commonplace of popular thought that the liberties we enjoy — whether to travel, talk, or worship — were purchased by the blood of our ancestors. Another generally asserted and generally accepted tenet was that war brings out, exercises, and indeed depends upon, the animal, or brute, side of man — the "original Adam," as It is sometimes called; which seemed so reasonable a

INTRODUCTION xix

statement that there has been a tendency to think of one's ancestors as, in the main, folks of somewhat coarse fibre. Nay, if truth be told, have not some of us been apt to feel, in a vague sort of way, that it was a good thing our ancestors were so rough and pugnacious, as otherwise we could not be so refined and peaceful!

Then came the bewildering fact that our modern, gentle-nurtured, peaceful lads, born to civilian traditions, with no drop of military blood in their effective ancestry, were going forth by the million, with an unselfishness that seemed almost divine, to engage in the business that seemed wholly fiendish. Heretofore on the conscience of each of those lads the words had been written, "Thou shalt not kill"; now the inner mandate ran, "Thou shalt kill." Persons who thought continuously about it were in danger of thinking themselves into a state of insanity. There seemed no way of getting back to the happy tranquillity of former days except through the defeat and slaughter of legions of our fellow-creatures — a culmination in itself so contrary to the ideal of happy tranquillity that one's intelligence went sick and reeling at the bare thought of it.

For some time it was as though dark curtains had fallen around one's life; no theory appeared to fit with the appalling facts; the condition of the world had become one vast heart-breaking muddle and puzzle. In the phrase just used, Evil appeared to have assumed ascendancy over Good.

And since that attitude of mine may well be deemed, by persons of steadier faith, to have been an unwarranted lapse towards infidelity, perhaps it

XX INTRODUCTION

may be permissible to mention, in a sort of aside, that, having retained from my teens a conviction that all war was unnecessary and wrong, and having been wont to style myself a Peace-at-any-price man, I now confronted war with no personal philosophy about it, my negative views on the subject proving wholly irrelevant to the accomplished fact.

Light sometimes reaches the human mind through strange little chinks. Try not to smile when I mention, as identified with one step in my progress towards a composed view, the surprise I felt, in the spring of 19 15, on noting that primroses and violets were blooming in our woodlands as gladly as ever. A further definite advance came when I first reread the following words in the light of contemporai-y ev^ents: "And when ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars, be ye not troubled: for such things must needs be." That came like a message of comfort from Heaven; nay, it came as a message of comfort from heaven. "Be ye not troubled." Very well; then I need not, must not, would not, be any longer troubled at the thought of what was happening. Wars — all wars — this war "must needs be."

Then came a strong desire for personal contact with the thing which, in ceasing to be a nightmare to the imagination, had assumed deeper interest as a problem — nay, as a hundred and one problems — for the mind.

What did it feel like to be under fire? How would a physical coward (and the writer had reason to accept himself in that category) get on when the bullets are flying and the bayonets flashing? How did war affect gentle, unassuming lads who

INTRODUCTION xxi

had been brought up in a Sunday-school atmosphere? Were they put hopelessly to shame by rough youths addicted to fisticuffs and horseplay? Of what effect upon our soldiers was the sight of death occurring around them and the knowledge that death might at any moment be their portion? Was the nearness of that mortal ending equivalent in their thoughts to the nearness of God and eternity?

In particular I asked myself that last question, and could not so much as make an assured guess at the answer. But from the mere suggestion of a possibility I seemed moving towards a truer conception of war; and the personal desire to be out among the fighters and the firing, where conjecture could be put to the proof, thenceforward grew stronger day by day.

But, being a person above military age, how could I get to the F>ont? Nor, by the way, was it enough merely to get there. How, then, could I reach the Front with such ample facilities for moving about, and such full opportunities for frank and friendly intercourse with our lads, as would enable me to know what were the Inner personal experiences?

Then came the illuminating thought: we had two armies in the field — the British Army and the Salvation Army; and how better could one study the spiritual condition of the former than from vantage points that the work of the latter would afford? Other Christian organisations were engaged among our soldiers, but I realised that, because of the simple, thorough-going, uncompromising, sevendays-a-week character of its Christianity, the Salvaxxii INTRODUCTION

tion Army, through its corporate and individual activities in the war arena, would most surely introduce me to the knowledge I sought.

It only remains to say that General Booth most kindly gave every opportunity, both in this country and in France, for an intimate insight into the work his Army is doing; while the Imperial Government, represented more particularly by the War Office, rendered unrestricted assistance to the Inquirer, not merely with facilities for visiting places of interest in the zone of the British Army, but by attaching him to a succession of battalions in the firing line, and allowing him full access to the trenches.

Chapter I

A church without laity — The sailor and the spar: superlative unselfishness — In British Army camps — Salvation Army huts — Human attitudes: natural and acquired — An interview in the scullery — The Adjutant's statistics — Sausages and pathos — A Scotchman's postponed decision — The sacrifice and its sequel: testimony of the rescued sailor.

Occasionally, of course, one meets Salvationists who are not members of the Salvation Army; but, speaking broadly, what distinguishes General Booth's organisation from other parts of Christ's Church is the belief that religion, instead of being merely a matter for formal occasions and private meditation, is for every-day use and avowal. Thus it comes about that the Salvation Army is the one church without any laity, all its members being ministers, who preach their sermons not only in words, but in the way they live — and die.

The JVar Cry gives typical instances of Salvationist happenings, to one of which my attention was recalled when, as a preliminary to crossing the Channel, I was visiting Salvation Army huts in British Army camps of southern England.

M SOULS IN KHAKI

It seems that, after H.M.S. Cressy, Hogue, and Aboukir had been torpedoed, two exhausted sailors, swimming about in the water, at last came upon a spar which, while sufficiently buoyant to keep either of them afloat, sank under the combined weight of both, so that they were constrained to take alternate spells of buffeting with the heavy swell and of clinging to the piece of wood — a process that could not be indefinitely prolonged, and that was terminated when one, who was a Salvationist, said "Good-bye, mate; death means life to me; but you are not converted, so keep hold and save yourself" — saying which he suffered himself to be carried away, inevitably to drown; and afterwards the other man, who survived and was rescued, reported at a Salvationist meeting the act of self-sacrifice to which he owed his life.

That beautiful abstract fact, when brought a second time to my notice, prompted a desire to see it in a framework of human nature — in other words, to find out something more about the anonymous hero who gave the highest proof of a spirit that was also revealed in the Salvation Army huts I was visiting. For those huts were administered in a spirit of brotherly love, and brotherly love reaches Its golden zenith when one man gives his life for another.

A large wooden hall fitted as a shop and refreshment counter at one end, and having nearly all the rest of the space occupied by chairs and little trestle tables, methodically arranged with Intervening gangways — such Is the interior of a Salvation Army hut, which probably also contains a piano, a picture or two, and a placard giving the times of trains or motor 'buses. Yellow deal being yellow deal, there is little to distinguish it from the thousand and one other huts of the camp — officers' quarters, men's quarters, messes, canteens, stores, and recreation rooms. Some of those other huts you might find full of men in khaki, just as you are almost sure to find the Salvation Army hut full of men in khaki. But it is different from them, because the person who serves at the counter, and the person who cooks the eggs and bacon, and the person who clears the tables and does the washing-up, is — well, because he or she is moved by the same motive as the man who relinquished his share of the spar.

Most of us, as is only natural, are wont to strive with a main eye to the worldly advantage of ourselves and of our families, modern existence being accepted as a competitive struggle — a sort of game of grab — for fame, fortune, and felicity; it being currently reported, not only that self-preservation is the first law of nature, but that if a man does not take his own part no one else will. The faith of the Salvationist contradicts those propositions — and he acts accordingly, with the result that his experience contradicts them also.

As for felicity, my visits to those huts Introduced me to some notable examples of that state of being. There were, for Instance, Adjutant and Mrs. M., whom I Interviewed In the wash-house, that being the only place where a visitor could occupy a little standing room without Interrupting business. For, as usual, there were about a hundred Tommies in the hut, so a good deal of cooking and serv-

Ing was going on. The Salvationist couple were assisted by a Salvationist girl and a Salvationist lad, which gave the equivalent of a staff of eight under normal commercial conditions, one person who labours for love being equal to two who merely work for wages. What with selling picture postcards, frying kippers, asking a man about his invalid wife, opening tins of pineapple and helping a poor scholar to write to his sweetheart, there was a good deal doing on our side of the counter; and my interview with Adjutant and Mrs, M. was consequently jerky — two minutes with him, half a minute with her, jfive minutes alone with the copper.

"I tell you," cried the enthusiastic Adjutant, "I'd do anything for the boys — they're so splendid. Just to show you — our regular hours are from half-past six in the morning to half-past seven at night — and they keep us pretty busy, too, all the time, bless 'em; but often enough some will come before the proper time or after we're shut. Parties reach camp at night, you see — and they're very likely hungry after their march, poor chaps. Who could turn 'em away, I'd like to know! Same as night before last there was a knock just as I'd finished making up my books and was about to turn in. One of our regular customers had brought round a few tired lads out of a lot that had just come in; 'and would I mind,' he said, 'just to cook a few more sausages and give 'em a drop of tea.' Mind! of course not. And they must have passed the word back, for I'd cooked 20 lbs. of sausages before I was through — 20 lbs. after closing time, mind! That day I had already cooked at least "

But^ here his wife arrived breathlessly to report that eight bacon and eggs were in a hurry as they must get back to parade; and away dashed the Adjutant to see to it.

"Ah ! you've no idea what fine boys we get here," the Adjutant's wife lingered to tell me; "and they're so grateful when one tries to help them, if it's only with a word of sympathy or encouragement. Being away from home, often for the first time, they miss their own women folk, and they can see 1 just love to mother them. Then of course there's the uniform. It's a great privilege to wear a uniform that everybody seems to have confidence in and look up to. They do feel the seriousness of what lies before them; and when they speak about the prayers they may for years have forgotten to say, and the bad ways they may have fallen into, why then I can't keep the tears back (my husband says it's so silly of me to be always crying over them — or else laughing!) — but it makes one more and more eager in pointing to the path of peace and begging those dear souls to arm themselves against all dangers by loving the Saviour who so loves them. The other day "