"At the base there are nine hospitals, some in public buildings, some in tents out on the plain. Of these nine hospitals, some are filled with British wounded, others with British and French, and the fellow soldiers of both--Turcos, Senegalese, Belgians, Indians. The chaplain's work is princ.i.p.ally there, going from ward to ward and tent to tent, talking on all subjects from the war to the Word of G.o.d, writing letters, or getting those angels of mercy, the nursing sisters, to write for men too crippled to write.

"As he goes on his way the Padre distributes out of his well-filled haversack gifts which have come from kind-hearted people at home.... A fig, a handful of raisins, a packet of 'Woodbines' (greatest of all luxuries in the opinion of 'Tommies' and 'Jocks'), a box of matches, an old ill.u.s.trated paper, a little bottle of perfume, or a little bag of perfume for the uneasy and restless. These are some of the contents of the wonderful haversack, and words cannot express the value of the good things. The men look on them as love-tokens from home.

"These men deserve our best care. They are brave in suffering as they have been in service. Their pluck is extraordinary, and the instances I now put down in my note-book prove the a.s.sertion.

"In one of the field hospitals there are two men in the same tent, and occupying beds next to each other. One man has had his left leg amputated above the knee, the other his right leg. Both are recovering and are as happy as sand boys. 'Good job, sir,' says one, 'it isn't the same leg with both of us. One pair of boots will do between us when we are allowed to get up.'

"In another tent lies a 'Jock' shot in the back in two places, and with his left arm shattered by shrapnel. He, too, is mending and developing an alarming appet.i.te for theological argument. Pluck, the doctor says, is a miracle-worker here.

"In a third tent is a lad with paralysis, the result of a bullet wound in the region of the spine. He believes he will recover and says he must hurry up, as no other fellow in the regiment can valet the Colonel as he can....

"As a rule the wounded are eager for the chaplain's visit. They want a talk, and very often the talk turns steadily to the thing that counts.

Men are not ashamed to discuss religion, and get to the subject often without much manoeuvring. That is not surprising. Very many have been in the Valley of the Shadow, and they tell you that they found G.o.d there. 'One' was with them--they cannot explain it, but they remember it. And a soldier is a strong partisan. The hard fact is that G.o.d was with them, and now they want to tell you what G.o.d is to them.

"One lad (he is little more than a boy in years) said to me when he was telling me all about the battle of the Aisne, where he was wounded:

"'I never knew before then what it was to pray. Of course, I had learnt to say my prayers, but I never really prayed till that day at the Aisne. We all went into the battle singing "You made me do it, I didn't want to do it," but when we got in the trenches it was like h.e.l.l. You should have seen some men dropping on their knees and praying. Why, the whole regiment seemed to be praying. I know I was praying, and somehow I felt better, and I've prayed every night running since.'

"That plain tale is the parable of many an awakening. It is the parable of the soldiers' need and vision and faith. They have seen something, and that something which is responsible for the question they so frequently ask, 'What is it like at home? Are the people at home praying? Are they praying for us doing our bit out here, or are they still going on the old way?'...

"The other day I was acting chaplain at the funeral of a 'Jock,' aged twenty-eight, who leaves a widow and three little children amongst that great company at home weeping for their beloved dead.

"The night before he died I said, 'Good-night, boy, I'll be in to see you early to-morrow morning.'

"The poor fellow knew he might not last till morning; and as I turned away he tried to raise himself and salute, and then he said:

"'Good-night, sir, and G.o.d bless you! and if I'm gone, sir, remember I'm all right--all right. Send my love to Janet and the bairns, and tell them I'll be waiting for them.'

"Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. These men are our heroes and G.o.d's own children."

Yes, that is the universal testimony--"brave in suffering as they have been brave in service." Grand lads these, and we shall never forget what they have done for us.

My difficulty in this chapter is to select out of the ma.s.s of material to hand stories which will best ill.u.s.trate the work which is being done. Much will necessarily have to be put upon one side.

I will turn next to the Rev. Richard Hall. For many years he had been at the head of the Welcome Soldiers' and Sailors' Home at Chatham, and in this position had done most effective service for the men. The Chatham Wesleyan Central Hall is also his creation, and in it he had led hundreds of sailors and soldiers to Christ. No truer friend of the soldier and no more efficient worker is to be found with the men.

He, too, tells us something of hospital work at the fighting base. I quote from the _Methodist Times_.

"One night," he says, "as I was going my rounds, my attention was directed to a man who was in delirium. I knelt down to hear what he was saying. His mind was dwelling on his boyish days. He was repeating--

'Hark, hark, hark, while infant voices sing Loud hosannas to our King.'

And then he uttered a name--it was the name of 'Peter Thompson.' This man had evidently when a boy attended our East End Mission, and had known Peter Thompson. I buried him in the little cemetery close by.

"It was All Saints' Day, a great festival in France, the time when friends visit the graves of their departed loved ones, and place thereon flowers. It was a beautiful morning, scores of people were there, and by invitation of the Mayor, as many officers from the hospital as could be spared were present also. The funeral service was combined with the celebration. I conducted the funeral first. At the close the Mayor made the speech, a copy of which I enclose.

"'Ladies and Gentlemen,--Often have I been proud to state that many of you have considered it a duty and a patriotic devotion to accompany to their last resting-place the glorious remains of our Allies who have fallen on the field of honour, and to show your fraternal friendship in bringing flowers, a spontaneous testimonial, but ephemeral, which we will confirm later by a commemorative monument, and we shall put it up together on this ground of supreme rest.

"'In the name of the Munic.i.p.al Council of Boisguillaume, ladies and gentlemen, I thank you one and all.

"'English officers and soldiers,--Be a.s.sured we shall never forget here your brothers in arms. The people of Boisguillaume will make it their duty to watch over these glorious remains you trust to their care, and they will regard it as a perpetual honour.

"'When later they bring the younger generation to bow to these graves, they will ask them to remember for ever that the men who rest here have shed their blood for France and England, in union of heart with the civilised nations, in order to fight against the invasion of our land by the barbarian hordes who are desirous of exterminating justice and right, our genius and our civilisation.

"'Glory to you, n.o.ble heroes, who for the sake of a sacred cause have sworn to defend France unto death! Carry away with you into eternity this confidence that you will live for ever in the memory of the French, who have at present only one heart, one soul, whose grat.i.tude to you will never fade.

"'Glory to England!

"'Farewell.'"

I have given the Mayor's speech in full, not because such a speech was exceptional, but because it gathers up into itself the sentiments of the French nation, and eloquently expresses the reverence felt for our British dead.

But not only do British soldiers know how to die, but German soldiers also. They are our enemies, but it is a pleasure to record that many of the captured German soldiers have their Bibles with them. Mr. Hall tells of one who died suddenly. His open Bible was found on his bed; and John iii. 16--"For G.o.d so loved the world "--were the words he had been reading as he pa.s.sed into the presence of his Saviour.

Mr. Hall also tells of a graceful act of kindness on the part of the Roman Catholic Archbishop of the Diocese. In company with Father Bradley and the Church of England chaplain, he waited upon the Archbishop to ask permission to hold Protestant services in the small but beautiful Roman Catholic church. The Archbishop received them most kindly and readily gave consent. By the by, Mr. Hall pays a beautiful tribute to that same Roman Catholic chaplain whose tent he shared--Father Bradley. He says: "I never met a more gentle and refined Christian character. His one thought was to serve others, and he cared nothing for his own discomfort as long as he was helping someone else." When they parted--for Father Bradley was the first to go to the front--the Father's last words were, "Hall, don't forget to pray for me, underneath and round about both of us are the Everlasting Arms."

Differing as we do so much from the Roman Catholic Church, it is a pleasure to record this testimony.

The services in the Roman Catholic church were conducted by the Church of England chaplain and Mr. Hall. They were united services, for in face of danger and death all are one in Christ Jesus.

The services were fruitful in results as such services must always be.

Not only did large numbers attend, but doubtless the Great Day will declare that many received the pardon of sin.

"Padre, did you see me at the service last night?" asked one young officer of Mr. Hall.

"I did."

"Well, do you know that is the first _voluntary_ service I ever remember attending, and I have made up my mind that from to-day G.o.d shall have the first place in my life?" A fortnight after he said, "I thank G.o.d that I have been a new man since that day I spoke to you."

That is it--"a new man." G.o.d is making "new men" by the hundred, if not by the thousand, in France and Belgium, and the chaplains are reverently looking on and praising Him.

The Rev. W.H. Sarchet tells quite a different, but not less striking, cla.s.s of story. It is his privilege to record an old-fashioned "Revival" at the fighting base. Mr. Sarchet has seen much work among soldiers and sailors. For eight years he was Wesleyan chaplain at Gibraltar; for another seven he was chaplain at Devonport; for the last four he has served in the same capacity at Portsmouth, having charge of the d.u.c.h.ess of Albany's Soldiers' and Sailors' Home there, and the services in the Town Hall.

In a letter to the Rev. John Bell, Mr. Sarchet tells the story of this remarkable spiritual movement which has been taking place at the General Hospital, with which he has been serving at the fighting base.

I give the story in his own words as printed in the weekly article by the Rev. J.H. Bateson in the _Methodist Recorder_. Mr. Bateson is Secretary of the Wesleyan Army and Navy Board and Ex-Secretary of the British Army Temperance a.s.sociation in India. His weekly article is replete with first-hand information, and that and its corresponding article in the _Methodist Times_ are a gold mine in which students of the war may well dig.

Mr. Sarchet, after referring to the wounded "fresh from the trenches in all their grime and dirt, torn clothes, broken limbs, and ghastly wounds," goes on to say:

"In addition to this really distressing work, I am having some most delightful camp work experiences. Last Sunday week at my second Parade service--my first was at 8 A.M. three miles away--I discovered by the very hearty responses in the prayers that there were some out-and-out Christian men present. I asked them if they would like a voluntary service at night. They said they would very much, so we fixed it up for 6.30 P.M. We had a delightful service just at setting sun. I think that 'Abide with me,' as that crowd of R.F.A. men, waiting to go up to the fighting line, sang it, never sounded so beautiful.

"At the close of the service, we had an after-meeting by moonlight, and three sought and found Christ. I announced a meeting for Monday night, and so we have gone on right through the week, and there have been seekers every night. At the close of this meeting we enlarge the ring in the centre, and then invite those who have decided to serve Christ to come right out into the ring before their comrades.

"It is beautiful clear moonlight, just like day, and out they come one after another. One never-to-be-forgotten evening we had twenty out.

They kneel down and we pray with them, then close the meeting with 'G.o.d be with you till we meet again,' and prayer. Then we take the names and talk with the soldiers individually. We have enrolled the names of over eighty men who have come out in this way in the last ten days.

"The meetings are having this good effect--finding the Christian men in the camps around. There are several camps and thousands of men--reinforcements just waiting for orders to move forward. Night and day men are coming and going. A Christian officer too heard us singing and has come and joined us. He has been with us every night when not on duty."

Supplementing this story Mr. Sarchet tells of another series of meetings still proceeding as he wrote. He says: