Surely the Almighty God does not intend this war to be just a hideous fracas, a bloody, drunken orgy. There must be purpose in it all; improvement must be born out of it. In what direction? France has already shown us the way, and has risen out of her ruined cities with a revival of religion that is most wonderful. England still remains to be dug out of the stupor of self-satisfaction and complacency which the great and flourishing condition has steeped her in. And until she can be stirred out of this condition, until a religious revival takes place at home, just so long will the war continue. When she can look on the future with humbler eyes and a prayer on her lips, then we can begin to count the days towards the end.—Admiral Sir David Beatty, K.C.B., M.V.O., D.S.O., K.C.V.O.
Y.M.C.A. IN THE FRONT-LINE DUG-OUTS ON THE PALESTINE FRONTY.M.C.A. IN THE FRONT-LINE DUG-OUTS ON THE PALESTINE FRONT
Thischapter is written in a 'sleeper' at the close of a busy day in the North. The day has been made a memorable one by a visit to theQueen Elizabeth, as she lay at her moorings in one of our great navalbases. She is one of the greatest instruments of war in the world, and it was a revelation to enter one of the gun turrets of the super-dreadnought, to look through the periscope, or see the ingenious mechanism that moved those mighty guns, and lifts into position the huge projectile that is capable of delivering death and destruction to an enemy many miles away. It was more than interesting to visit the wireless rooms, where ceaseless watch is kept by day and night, and to see the wonderful orderliness of everything, and to note that every one on board was ready, and their only fear that the German Fleet might never be tempted out again. The visit to theQueen Elizabethleft one thinking of the service the Red Triangle has been able to render to the White Ensign. During the war there are not as many opportunities for work amongst naval men as in peace time, but there is all the more need thatwhen the men are ashore everything that is possible should be done for them. The Scottish National Council have up-to-date well-equipped hostels and recreation-rooms in several naval centres, and those at Edinburgh and Glasgow are thronged with bluejackets. South of the Border there are many fine hostels and recreation-rooms for sailors, and in scores of centres in England, Wales, and Ireland the Red Triangle is catering successfully for the needs of our bluejackets. The biggest crowd of all is to be found in the quarters occupied by the Y.M.C.A. at the Crystal Palace, where thousands of men every day use the Y.M.C.A. as their club, and find in it their home. We shall never know all we owe to our splendid Navy, and that debt can never be fully paid. At the close of the war we are planning to erect permanent hostels and institutes for sailors in several naval bases at home and in some of thegreat foreign stations. Much appreciated war work for sailors is being carried on now at Brindisi and Taranto, for the men of the drifters employed on minesweeping in the Mediterranean, also at Malta, Mudros, and other centres overseas.
Y.M.C.A. DUG-OUT AND CANTEEN ON PALESTINE FRONTY.M.C.A. DUG-OUT AND CANTEEN ON PALESTINE FRONT
A demand for a Y.M.C.A. on a battleship came from the men of H.M.S.Conqueror, and it has been found most helpful.
Many isolated naval stations round the British coast are supplied with cabinets, each one containing a gramophone, library, a supply of writing materials, and games. For obvious reasons it would be imprudent whilst the war is on to indicate the centres by name in which the Red Triangle is serving the men of the Navy, but there will be a great story to tell when the war is over.
The work of the Y.M.C.A. is, to my mind, one of the outstanding features of this war. Their efforts, along with other agencies working for the highest welfare of the Army, have shown a true catholic spirit, and made it easier for our soldiers to live a noble, true and clean life. May God's blessing follow their increasing influence.—The Chaplain-General to the Forces.The Y.M.C.A. has been one of the really great things which have come into their own in this world crisis. It has been a Hindenburg Line of the Christian faith.—Dr. Michael Sadler, Vice-Chancellor of Leeds University.
The Y.M.C.A. has been one of the really great things which have come into their own in this world crisis. It has been a Hindenburg Line of the Christian faith.—Dr. Michael Sadler, Vice-Chancellor of Leeds University.
TheY.M.C.A. is not in camp as a rival to the ordinary Church organisations, nor yet to supplant or in any conceivable way to undermine the influence of the chaplains. Its large and commodious huts and tents have been used in thousands of camps for the official Church Parade services, and in many cases there has been no other suitableroom available. We have counted it a privilege on Sunday mornings to place our equipment unreservedly at the disposal of all the official chaplains who desired to use it. We have welcomed the opportunity of assisting the great and important work the chaplains are doing for the men of His Majesty's Forces, for the Y.M.C.A. is itself a wing of the great Christian army, and has sometimes been described as the Church in action. Apart from the support in men and money it has received from members of the Churches, the war work of the Red Triangle would have been impossible. The Y.M.C.A. is not a church, and will never become one. It administers no sacraments, its membership is confined to one sex; it discourages in all its branches the holding of meetings that clash with those of the Churches, and in every possible way each member unattached is encouraged to join the Church of his choice.
In the course of a striking letter toThe Challengeof July 12, 1918, a correspondent said:—'We turn, for an example, to the Y.M.C.A. Conceal the unpleasant truth how we may, the outstanding religious performance of this war in the eyes of the public at large has not been the daily services in Church—not even the Holy Communion—but the work done in the Y.M.C.A. huts. It is along those lines that we must travel if we are to win the world. For the mediævally-minded, for the intellectually timid, there is always Rome. But it is not by those that the new England will be built, and it is the new England we must save for Christ.'
Another writer to the same Anglican journal said it had been stated that 'after the war there would be a holy Roman Church and a holy Y.M.C.A., but no more Church of England.' The fact of the matter is the Y.M.C.A. is not making thework of the Churches unnecessary, but rather it is giving the ordinary man a new conception of what Christianity really is, and is thus helping to interpret the churches to the masses, and is acting as a bridge or a communication trench between the organised forces of Christianity in the front line, so to speak, and the great masses away back in reserve, on which they desire to draw. Some people have spoken sneeringly of 'canteen religion'; the soldier never does—and why should he? There is nothing new about it, for it is as old as the early days of Christianity, only the gospel of the 'cup of cold water' has been adapted to the needs of modern warfare, so that the man in the firing-line knows it from experience as the gospel of the 'cup of hot coffee.' Straggling back to a clearing station, wounded, plastered with mud, and racked with pain, the most eloquent of sermons would not help him, but a hotdrink, a few biscuits or even a cigarette, if given in the name of the Master may put new heart and life into him, and give him fresh courage for the way. The Churches realise this, and have given us of their best as far as helpers are concerned.
We have a vivid recollection of visiting the big Y.M.C.A. hut in the Cavalry Camp at Rouen in 1915. It was the ordinary week-night service, and more than six hundred men were present. A famous Scottish preacher had conducted the service, and at the close we chatted with him for a few minutes in the quiet room. 'Before I came out to France,' said he, 'I knew you had a great opportunity. Now I know that the greatest spiritual opportunity in history rests on your shoulders—is with the Y.M.C.A.' And yet there is a way of doing spiritual work that would make all spiritual work in camp absolutely impossible. We remember visiting a bighut one day—it did not sport the Red Triangle, but was beautifully furnished. Over the door was a bold device 'A Home from Home! All Welcome!' On entering, the first thing one saw was the text 'Behold your sins will find you out!' And a few yards further on 'The wages of sin is death.' 'No smoking!' was another notice, and yet another, 'This hut will be closed every evening from seven to eight for a gospel service.' Religion to appeal to the soldier must be natural and not forced, and must be free from controversy and unreality. The British soldier hates a sham, and instinctively classes the hypocrite with the Hun. He may not understand our Shibboleths; he has no use for our controversies, but he can and does understand the Life of the Master, when he sees the beauty of that Life reflected in some humble follower of His, who day by day is risking his life atthe Front, that he may supply a cup of cocoa to a wounded soldier, or who is slaving behind a Y.M.C.A. refreshment counter at home, and doing uncongenial work for the love of Christ.
When it was decided to send the Indian troops to France, the Y.M.C.A. offered its services to the Indian Government. The offer was refused. At last, however, permission was given to supply recreation marquees for the use of the Indian Army in France, but only on condition that there should be no proselytising, no preaching, no prayers, no hymn singing, no Testaments or Bibles given, and no tracts. The Y.M.C.A. accepted the conditions, and though some of its friends felt it meant lowering the flag, it has loyally kept its promise, and most people realise to-day that this was one of the greatest pieces of Christian strategy of our times. A visit to one of theRed Triangle huts or tents in an Indian camp is a revelation. You hear the Mohammedan call to prayer, see the tiny mosque, and realise in how many and varied ways it is possible for the Y.M.C.A. to be of service to these brave men of another faith. A professor reported at one of the big base camps as a worker. He had come to lecture to the troops, and when asked by the leader as to his subjects replied, 'Sanscrit and Arabic.' The leader wondered how on earth he could make use of a man as a lecturer to British Tommies, who only lectured on those two obscure and difficult topics. The professor found his niche, however, teaching the Mohammedan priest to read his Koran—the leader commenting—'The more he knows it, the less he will trust it.'
It is interesting to note how well these Indian heroes get on with our own Tommies.They play their games and sometimes sing their songs. When 'Tipperary' was all the rage, the Indians had their own version of the chorus, which they sang with great enthusiasm. It ran thus:
'Bura dur hai Tipperary,Bura dur hai kouch ho,Bura dur hai Tipperary,Sukipas powncheniko,Ram, ram, Piccadilly,Salam Leicester Square.Bura, bura dur hai Tipperary,Likem dil hoa pus ghai.'
On one occasion the secretary of an important base said he had arranged a new stunt for us that evening—the formal opening of a hut in the Indian Cavalry Hospital Camp. We arrived to find the hut crowded, and a great banquet arranged in our honour. Nothing need be said as to the banquet or its disastrous results as far as we are concerned! The Indians enjoyed it, and that was the important thing.Before the banquet we had the privilege of greeting the men and welcoming them to the Y.M.C.A., and after we had finished, the leading Mohammedan in the camp mounted the platform and gave a great oration in honour of the Christian Association. He was followed by the leading Brahmin, and he in turn by the senior Sheik, all speaking in most cordial terms of the Y.M.C.A. In the midst of the orations, a stately Indian advanced solemnly and placed a garland of flowers round my neck. Thrice this garlanding process was repeated on different occasions—lovely roses and sweet peas—and it was a great and much appreciated honour, though it made one feel a trifle foolish at the time. After the banquet we proceeded to the adjoining recreation tent, and it was an inspiration to see it crammed from end to end with men of many religions and different races, all happy and contented and all usefullyemployed. On the platform a 'budginee' or Indian concert was proceeding; a crowd of men at the tables were learning to write; another crowd receiving a lesson in English; a large group looking at pictures and illustrated magazines, whilst others were playing games or listening enraptured to the strains of the Indian records on the gramophone. The C.O. who took us round, said that when the men came to France not one of them could even sign his name to his pay book, they all had to do it by means of thumb-prints. 'To-day,' said he, 'every man can sign his name, and many can write an intelligent letter, and they have learned everything in the Y.M.C.A.' A few days previously an Indian of some rank stood with folded arms, his back against the wall, in that very tent. He said nothing, but took in everything, and when the marquee closed for the night and the dusky hero warriorsretired to their tents, he spoke to the Indian secretary in charge. 'I have watched you men,' said he; 'you are not paid by the Government, you come when you like and you go when you like. There is only one religion in the world that would send its servants to do what you are doing—to serve and not to proselytise. When this war is over and we return to India, I want you to send one of your men to my village. My people are all Hindus, but they will do what I tell them. I have been watching you carefully, and I have come to the conclusion that Christianity will fit the East as it can never fit the West.' One of the lessons of the Red Triangle is that you can never win men by antagonising them, or by speaking disrespectfully of the things they hold dear. Love must ever be the conqueror, and the love of all loves is the love of God revealed in His Son, Jesus Christ.
Our Jewish friends were surprised and delighted in the dark days at the close of 1914, to find that the doors of the Y.M.C.A. were thrown widely open to their padres, who could gather in soldiers of their community to worship God in their own way in the huts of the Red Triangle. They have not been slow to show their appreciation—several Y.M.C.A. huts have been given officially by Jews; one well-known and much used hostel bears the name 'Jewish Y.M.C.A.,' and Jewish padres will go to any trouble or inconvenience to help our work at home or overseas. No Red Triangle hut can be used for proselytising by Catholic, Protestant, Moslem, or Jew—that goes without saying—but any official chaplain is welcome to the use of our huts for instructing his own people in their own faith.
THE Y.M.C.A. AT BASRA, MESOPOTAMIATHE Y.M.C.A. AT BASRA, MESOPOTAMIA
A striking article recently appeared in a Catholic journal, from which we cull thefollowing paragraphs, expressing as they do another point of view:—
'"R.C.," "C. of E.," "Y.M.C.A."—these three are the religions of the Front. The drum-head service, whilst nominally "C. of E.," is, of course, more a military parade than a religious function. It is not without a certain amount of picturesque Army ceremonial, but to the Catholic soldier, as a Catholic, the spectacle is an uninteresting one. The Y.M.C.A., too, I think, would not claim to be a religion. It is perhaps a religious institution; a kind of spiritual ration-dump. Its huts, even during a cinema show, and at the counters where they sell Woodbines and chocolates, have a Christianised atmosphere. No soldier fears to be thought "too good" through attending a Y.M.C.A. service. That is, perhaps, where its undoubtedly great influence comes in. It gives the impression, one supposes, to these soldiers that here they have what the P.S.A. fraternity call "a man's religion for man." It caters for the frequent English soul which (perhaps in the Charity of God) finds a path to Heaven in the singing of second-rate hymns on Sunday evening; in the constant repetition of "Abide with me," and "O God, our help in ages past."It is difficult to say if the influence of the Y.M.C.A. is much responsible for the remarkably even, and considering all things, somewhat high moral code of the Army out here. Rather, perhaps (Deo gratias), it is an English heritage from the past. Most emphatically one cannot help being struck by the excellent moral lives that many of these men live, when all things are considered. Of course, to a large extent, there is the lack of occasions of sin. Drunkenness, most possibly, is rare because the authorities have greatly restricted, and wisely, the hours of drinking, and the beer, etc., available, even if taken in large quantities, is rarely intoxicating. Frankly, it appears that the good influence of the Y.M.C.A. is derived from the temporal comforts and conveniences it offers to the much-tried B.E.F. men. I stood outside a Y.M.C.A. building one night, in the worst of weather, weather as foul as it can be in France in war time. Three rain-sodden Canadian infantrymen trudged along towards the place, and their ears caught the sound of some execrable piano-strumming. "Holy Hell," said one, "there's some music there; come on!" That is the story, in epitome, of the Y.M.C.A. In the mercy of God, it is a good one."
'"R.C.," "C. of E.," "Y.M.C.A."—these three are the religions of the Front. The drum-head service, whilst nominally "C. of E.," is, of course, more a military parade than a religious function. It is not without a certain amount of picturesque Army ceremonial, but to the Catholic soldier, as a Catholic, the spectacle is an uninteresting one. The Y.M.C.A., too, I think, would not claim to be a religion. It is perhaps a religious institution; a kind of spiritual ration-dump. Its huts, even during a cinema show, and at the counters where they sell Woodbines and chocolates, have a Christianised atmosphere. No soldier fears to be thought "too good" through attending a Y.M.C.A. service. That is, perhaps, where its undoubtedly great influence comes in. It gives the impression, one supposes, to these soldiers that here they have what the P.S.A. fraternity call "a man's religion for man." It caters for the frequent English soul which (perhaps in the Charity of God) finds a path to Heaven in the singing of second-rate hymns on Sunday evening; in the constant repetition of "Abide with me," and "O God, our help in ages past."It is difficult to say if the influence of the Y.M.C.A. is much responsible for the remarkably even, and considering all things, somewhat high moral code of the Army out here. Rather, perhaps (Deo gratias), it is an English heritage from the past. Most emphatically one cannot help being struck by the excellent moral lives that many of these men live, when all things are considered. Of course, to a large extent, there is the lack of occasions of sin. Drunkenness, most possibly, is rare because the authorities have greatly restricted, and wisely, the hours of drinking, and the beer, etc., available, even if taken in large quantities, is rarely intoxicating. Frankly, it appears that the good influence of the Y.M.C.A. is derived from the temporal comforts and conveniences it offers to the much-tried B.E.F. men. I stood outside a Y.M.C.A. building one night, in the worst of weather, weather as foul as it can be in France in war time. Three rain-sodden Canadian infantrymen trudged along towards the place, and their ears caught the sound of some execrable piano-strumming. "Holy Hell," said one, "there's some music there; come on!" That is the story, in epitome, of the Y.M.C.A. In the mercy of God, it is a good one."
THE CENTRAL Y.M.C.A., BAGHDADTHE CENTRAL Y.M.C.A., BAGHDAD
A young soldier sent to an English paper the following interesting account of a Communion Service held in one of our huts at the Front:—
'The following Tuesday, just as our company was going "up the line" to the trenches, a Communion service was held in the rest-room of the Y.M.C.A. hut. I attended it along with nine other men, and the service was conducted by a well-known Scottish Y.M.C.A. worker, who at the time was acting as the leader of the hut. In that little room we ten men in khaki were verily in the presence of the Unseen. I never realised Christ to be so near as when we handled the elements. For myself I can truly say that, in the grey dawn of the following morning, I went up to meet the enemy with a strange peace, and a deep assurance in my soul that, come what might, I need fear no evil, knowing that He was with me—and so it proved to be. Our time in the trenches was the most exciting I have yet experienced, but He kept near, and so "all's well."'
'The following Tuesday, just as our company was going "up the line" to the trenches, a Communion service was held in the rest-room of the Y.M.C.A. hut. I attended it along with nine other men, and the service was conducted by a well-known Scottish Y.M.C.A. worker, who at the time was acting as the leader of the hut. In that little room we ten men in khaki were verily in the presence of the Unseen. I never realised Christ to be so near as when we handled the elements. For myself I can truly say that, in the grey dawn of the following morning, I went up to meet the enemy with a strange peace, and a deep assurance in my soul that, come what might, I need fear no evil, knowing that He was with me—and so it proved to be. Our time in the trenches was the most exciting I have yet experienced, but He kept near, and so "all's well."'
I am sending you a pound note, the first I ever received, as I am a poor old woman not able to work. To maintain my home I used to take in washing, but now I cannot even do my own, but the other Sunday, when I shook hands with one that I used to wash for, he put that bit of paper in my hand, but said nothing, so I received it as part payment for work done over seven years ago, and when I looked at it, I thanked God, and said I would give it to some good cause, and I think I cannot do better than help you to get shelter for the soldiers. God bless 'em.
Morethan five hundred thousand men have signed the War Roll pledge of allegiance to our Lord Jesus Christ, which has now been formally adopted by the Churches, and which reads as follows:
'I hereby pledge my allegiance to the Lord Jesus Christ, as my Saviour and King, and by God's help will fightHis battles for the Victory of His Kingdom.'
'I hereby pledge my allegiance to the Lord Jesus Christ, as my Saviour and King, and by God's help will fightHis battles for the Victory of His Kingdom.'
Many have no doubt forgotten their promise, but for many it has meant the beginning of a new life, and to thousands of parents the knowledge that the boy, who was their all, signed this declaration before making the supreme sacrifice, has brought untold comfort.
Wherever practicable a Quiet Room for prayer and Bible study is included in our camp outfit, also a book-stall for Testaments, pledge cards, and religious literature. Millions of Testaments and gospel portions have been distributed free of charge, and realising the difficulty of obtaining gospel booklets or tracts that appeal to men, a new one from the pen of the General Secretary was issued each of the first thirty weeks of the war. The approved plan has been to have family prayers, no matter how brief, as far as practicable inevery hut, every night, and if this feature of the programme is not popular, the fault is usually to be found in the one who leads.
A casual observer, after visiting a Y.M.C.A. hut, sometimes comes to the conclusion that the Association is doing a great social work, but is not much as a religious force. It is not difficult to understand that point of view. He has seen two or three hundred men clamouring at the refreshment counter for coffee, buns or cigarettes; the billiard tables have been fully occupied; hundreds of soldiers were writing letters at the tables provided for the purpose, and hundreds joining in some rowdy chorus, or heartily laughing at a humorous song or funny sketch. Where then does the spiritual work of the Red Triangle come in? The best answer is to quote what has actually happened.
To the south-west of Salisbury Plainthere was before the war a tiny village. To-day it is the centre of a big camp, which, incidentally, contains several Y.M.C.A. huts. The leader of No. 4 was talking to the Church of England padre one morning. They were warm friends and the chaplain was frank in his remarks: 'I think you are overdoing it,' said he, 'by having prayers in the hut every night. Surely it would be better,' he added, 'if you concentrated on one evening of the week instead.' 'I have thought and prayed about it,' replied the leader, 'and it is a matter of principle with me. These dear boys are all going to the Front next week, and no matter what the programme of the day, I feel we ought to finish at night with a public acknowledgment of God.' 'Very good,' replied the padre, 'if that is your conviction, carry on! Take prayers yourself this evening.' And he did. He was no orator; he was not a college man,neither was he ordained. It was a simple little service, and did not take more than ten or fifteen minutes from start to finish. There was an opening hymn, one of the old familiar ones, that took the lads away back to the homes of their childhood. A short passage of scripture was read, followed by a few straight but sympathetic words of exhortation and a brief closing prayer. That was all, and the same thing, no doubt, took place in hundreds of centres the same night. Prayers over and the 'King' sung, the leader came down from the platform, where a young private greeted him and shook his hand till it hurt saying, 'I want to thank you for giving me a new vision of a God I once knew.' Walking towards the centre of the hall, a young subaltern greeted him saying, 'I want to thank you for that little service; it has been no end of a help to me, and I should like to give you this for your work,' sosaying he handed him an envelope, and looking inside he found a letter from the lieutenant's mother, containing thirty shillings in postal orders to be spent by him in camp. The service had helped him, and that was his thankoffering. The hut cleared, the men retired for the night to their sleeping quarters. A solitary soldier lingered by the doorway as if he wanted some one to speak to him. 'Good-night, my lad,' said the leader, 'can I do anything for you?' Instead of replying the soldier burst out crying, and later said, 'If you will you can save me from a great crime!' 'Save you from a crime—whatever do you mean?' And then the trooper told his story. There was nothing uncommon about it. He and his brother had made love to the same girl, their mother had intervened, 'and,' he said, 'I have written to my mother this evening a letter that no boy should write to his mother, and afterattending your service to-night, I feel I would give all I've got to take back that letter!' The letter was found and destroyed, and the soldier rejoiced in what he regarded as a great deliverance. This is no story of an orthodox revival, but of the kind of thing that may be taking place hundreds of times any week.
In the early days the famous —— Division assembled in one of the great camps near Winchester. Regiments and units were there from India, South Africa—from all parts of the world. Rain came down in torrents and the mud was appalling. The huge Red Triangle tents were crowded from morning till night and the devoted workers, all too few in number, had neither time nor strength for religious work in the ordinary acceptance of the term. They could have limited their canteen work, and closed the refreshmentcounter excepting for a few hours daily. That would have been the easier plan, and would have given them the opportunity of devoting themselves to concerts and meetings in the evenings. The alternative would have been to spend and be spent in serving the material needs of the men, trusting that God would use the atmosphere of the place and the personal contact of the workers to influence the men, and thus make up for their inability to do much in the meeting line. They chose the latter plan, and the leader retiring for the night would throw himself on his bed and sometimes fall asleep without undressing. At times suffering from the reaction, he would ask himself the question, 'Is it worth while? Am I doing the right thing?' The answer came the night before the men left for the Front. It had been a record day, every moment had been crowded, and they had sold out.The majority had retired for the night, a few remained to tidy up the tents. This task accomplished, a group of soldiers gathered round the leader, and the talk soon turned quite naturally to some of the deepest problems of life. Presently a stalwart young Gordon Highlander told of his home in far away Scotland, of his farewell to his dear old mother before he went out to India, and of the promise he made her—the promise he had not kept—to read his Bible every day, to lead a pure clean life, and to keep clear of drink. The atmosphere of that crowded Y.M.C.A. tent had brought it all back to him and, unknown to the staff, he had renewed his vows to God and his mother. In making this confession he was overcome by emotion, and throwing his arms round the leader's neck he sobbed out the story of his repentance. There is no more moving sight than the anguish of a strong man, probably no sight that givesmore joy in Heaven than the tears that tell of the return of the one that had been lost.
A young Canadian officer who had lost a leg and an arm wrote to me before sailing to Montreal from Bristol in May 1918, and this is what he said:—'I would like to tell you how much we have appreciated the Y.M.C.A. I came over with the first batch of Canadians; we were drafted to Larkhill, Salisbury Plain. After leaving my home—a godly home—I fell into the hands of very ungodly people and sank very, very deep in. I was lying on the roadside much the worse for drink. I was down and couldn't get up; comrades and every one seemed to have left me. I saw one of your cars rush by. When it had passed about a hundred yards, out jumped a Y.M.C.A. man. He came back to me and said, "Come along my friend, I will take you to your hut." I looked at him andsaid, "I've sunk too low for a man like you to touch me." He helped me up, took me to my hut, and said, "This is my work in the Y.M.C.A., to help the helpless. Come in and have a cup of tea with me to-morrow." Shamefaced, I went the next day. He was there to greet me; he talked and prayed with me, but I saw no light until one night in the trenches, I thought I heard this man praying, and I heard it again and again, and had no rest till I laid my sins at the foot of the Cross. Although I am going home with a leg and an arm off, I have a clean heart washed in the Blood of the Lamb. I have visited many huts, but that was the only man who spoke to me personally about my sinful condition. Your leaders can do much if they will. God bless the work and the workers. I will enclose this leader's card so that you can let him know his prayers followed me up to the trenches. God bless him!'
Cecil Thompson, the leader referred to, never saw this letter. Long before it was written he had 'gone west,' had passed to his reward, one of the Red Triangle martyrs of Salisbury Plain. But he 'shall in no wise lose his reward,' for it is work like this that pays, and the spirit of Cecil Thompson lives on in the lives of those who have been won, not by his eloquence, but by the personal contact of a man who had yielded himself to become a channel for the Divine blessing.
The greatest romance of the Red Triangle is the romance of its religious work. War always seems to have one of two effects upon the lives of those who participate in it—either it hardens a man and makes him callous, or else it purifies and ennobles him. The Chaplains, the Churches, the Y.M.C.A., the Church Army, the C.E.T.S., the Salvation Army, and countless otherorganisations and individuals are always at work, trying to counteract the power of the downward pull. It was our youngest General, the late Brig.-Gen. R. B. Bradford, V.C., M.C., who addressed to his men in France, shortly before his death, the following stirring words:—'I am going to ask you to put your implicit trust and confidence in me, to look upon me not only as your Brigadier, but as your friend. By the help of God I will try and lead you to the best of my ability, and remember your interests are my interests. As you all know, a few days from now we are going to attack; your powers of endurance are going to be tested. They must not fail you. Above all, pray; more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. It is God alone who can give us the victory, and bring us through this battle safely.'
It is said that General Smuts' attentionwas drawn to Herbert Schmalz's picture, 'The Silent Witness,' in the Royal Academy. It showed the interior of a French church, and many wearied and wounded French soldiers huddled together on the floor. A soldier with a wounded arm was awakened by the pain, and raising himself on his unwounded arm saw the figure of the Christ, the silent witness of his suffering and agony. Looking long and earnestly at the picture, it is said the famous Boer General quietly remarked, 'Many a man has seen that vision in this war.'
THE RED TRIANGLE IN JERUSALEMTHE RED TRIANGLE IN JERUSALEM
THE HEXHAM ABBEY HUT, SCHEVENINGEN, HOLLANDTHE HEXHAM ABBEY HUT,SCHEVENINGEN, HOLLAND
When visiting Bailleul in 1917 the following story was told me by a distinguished padre serving with the Y.M.C.A. It concerned a casualty clearing station on the outskirts of the town. A gentleman ranker was brought in terribly wounded. His shoulder had been shattered by shrapnel and gas gangrene had set inA constant and welcome visitor was the senior chaplain. One day he called, and said cheerily, 'Well, old fellow, how goes it to-day?' 'Thanks, padre,' was the reply, 'the pain is not quite so bad to-day, but, padre,' he added earnestly, stroking his wounded arm, 'I wish you would persuade them to take this away.' 'Don't talk like that,' said the chaplain; 'you'll want to use that old arm for many a year to come!' 'No, padre,' he replied with conviction, 'I shall never use it again; I'm going west!' A moment later he was seized with a frightful paroxysm of pain, and with a torrent of oaths shrieked out, 'Why the b—— h—— can't they take this arm away!' He fell back exhausted, but an instant later sat bolt upright and with arms held out looked intently towards the roof of the hut. His face became radiant, and there was no trace of pain. In an ecstatic voice he cried out, 'Jesus!Jesus! Jesus!' and fell back dead. Thank God that's possible, and even in the hour of death, the blasphemer may receive forgiveness and the knowledge of salvation, for
'The ways of men are narrow,But the gates of Heaven are wide.'
SALONICA: WINTER ON THE DOIRAN FRONT, SHOWING Y.M.C.A. TENTSALONICA: WINTER ON THE DOIRAN FRONT, SHOWING Y.M.C.A. TENT
A WELCOME Y.M.C.A. IN THE TRENCHESA WELCOME Y.M.C.A. IN THE TRENCHES
A lady worker in the Isle of Wight felt unaccountably drawn to a young soldier who had vowed he would never enter the Y.M.C.A. again, because he objected to evening prayers. Little by little she won his confidence, until the night before he left for France with a draft, he came in to say good-bye, and told her she was the first person to speak to him about sacred things, adding—'I may do some day, but at present I cannot see things as you do.' He went to France, followed by her prayers, and in due course took part in the famous attack on Cambrai. Nothing was heardof him for weeks, and his friends were forced to the conclusion that he was numbered amongst the dead. Time passed by, until one morning the lady of the Red Triangle received a letter from him, written from a German prisoner of war camp. It was a commonplace letter and told of the great fight, of his capture and internment, and so forth, but the concluding words were the ones she wanted—'You will be glad to know I can see things as you do now.'
We were speaking at the opening of a hut near Portsmouth. At the close of the ceremony a dear little old widow lady, sitting in the front row, told us of her own boy. He was a young officer serving in France, and was called out late one night to help repel a sudden attack by the enemy. Shot down by machine-gun fire, a brother officer stooped to help him, buthe cried, 'Lead on, lead forward, I go to my God!'
A day later another Y.M.C.A. lady in one of the hospital huts told us the story of her nephew. He, too, was a young officer, and was called out to assist in repelling a sudden attack by the Huns. Our men had scarcely reached No Man's Land when the enemy turned on their dreadful gas. One of the first to be overcome by its fumes was the sergeant of his platoon. Regardless of the risk he ran, that young officer stuck to his disabled sergeant until help arrived. Not realising that he had himself become affected by the noxious fumes, he tried to stagger to his feet, but fell backwards into a shell-hole, and in falling broke his neck. The sad news was conveyed to his people in the North of England, and the night they received it his father and mother sat alonein the quiet of their home. Presently the mother spoke—'I feel,' said she, 'that the only thing that would console me in my loss would be to know that the man for whom my boy died was a good man.' It was only a week later that the sergeant for whom the young officer died, came to that home, and when he came he was hopelessly intoxicated. The parents quickly ascertained that it was not the case of a man having been overcome by sudden temptation; they could have forgiven that, but he was an utter waster, about as bad as a man could be. When he had left the house those two sat once again in the silence of their home, and it was the mother who spoke, slowly and quietly, 'It almost breaks my heart to know my boy gave his precious life for a worthless life like that.' And yet, what of the young officer himself? Did he know the type of man it was for whom he was aboutto make the supreme sacrifice? Of course, he knew; he was in his own platoon, and yet, knowing, he willingly gave his life in an attempt to save him. One cannot recall this story without thinking of those wonderful words: 'For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet per-adventure for a good man some would even dare to die, but God commendeth His Love towards us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.'
In a far away corner of the Harfleur Valley the Y.M.C.A. has one of its finest equipments. The leader was a great man in every sense of the word, and every night he organised a sing-song for the troops, which invariably went with a swing. He seemed to know by instinct when to strike right in, and what to say. A night came, however, when he seemed to have struck a bad patch, for no one wouldplay, sing, or recite. The story is told here almost word for word, as it was first told me by a leading worker home from France, who drew a graphic word picture of the hut leader pleading from the platform for help which never came. The huge hut was crammed with men, and looking at the crowd standing at the back he noticed a movement amongst them. A trooper detaching himself from the crowd slowly elbowed his way to the front. It was easy to tell by his unsteady steps that he was under the influence of drink. Mounting the platform, he turned first to the audience and then to the Y.M.C.A. leader, and cried in a voice that every one could hear: 'What's the matter, Boss? Won't any one oblige you? Never mind, padre, if nobody will help you, I will! What would you like me to do? I can play, or I can sing, or I can recite—or I can pray!' For a moment the secretary didnot know what to reply. He was a man of experience, but had never been placed in a predicament like that before. To his horror he saw the poor drunken trooper stumble to the edge of the platform and with hands outstretched called for prayer, and there followed one of the strangest prayers ever heard in public as the drunkard cried out, 'Everlasting God! Everlasting God! Everlasting God——!' He could get no further, but broke down and sobbed like a child, and in his agony cried out, 'I had a good mother once; I've been a damned fool. May God forgive me!' Could God possibly hear and answer a prayer like that? Of course He could, and He did! Possibly He would rather have even a prayer like that, than the meaningless prayers with which we sometimes mock Him, and if any man ever gave evidence of his conversion to God it was that trooper. He stayed only fourdays longer in that reinforcement camp in the Harfleur Valley, but if he could help it, never for a moment would he let our leader out of his sight, and in a hundred ways he helped him with his work. He would go methodically and frequently round the hut, gather up the dirty mugs, bring them back to the counter and help to wash them. He would go down on his hands and knees under the tables, pick up scraps of paper and cigarette ends and help clean up the floor. Four days later he was sent with a detachment up the line; three days later still, with his company, he was ordered 'over the top,' and literally he went into the 'Valley of the Shadow of Death,' but he did not go alone, for 'there went with him One the form of Whom was like unto the form of the Son of God!'
Y.M.C.A. FOR INTERNED PRISONERS OF WAR, LEYSIN, SWITZERLANDY.M.C.A. FOR INTERNED PRISONERS OF WAR, LEYSIN, SWITZERLAND
The Y.M.C.A. is a Christian Association, the Red Triangle a Christian emblem, andfor that very reason the freedom of the Association is given to every enlisted man. Protestant and Catholic, Anglican, Free-Churchman, Jew, Hindoo, Mohammedan—men of any religion, every religion, and no religion at all, are equally welcomed beneath its roof, and no man will ever hear unkind or disrespectful things said from a Y.M.C.A. platform concerning the faith he holds dear. At the same time we can never forget that the greatest need of every man, amongst the millions we serve in our huts, is that he should have a Friend who will never fail him nor forsake him, who will stand shoulder to shoulder with him in his fierce fight with temptation in camp or city, will be with him in the trenches, in the firing line, as he goes over the parapet, or even into the dread 'Valley of the Shadow,' and there is only One Who can thus meet every need of every man, and that One is the strong Son of God, the LordJesus Christ, the best Friend, the truest Comrade we can have.
We often fall far short of our aim, alas! but the primary aim of the Y.M.C.A. always has been, and is, to lead men to a saving knowledge of that Friend.
The Y.M.C.A. has a very thorough understanding of men, and with that sympathy which has characterised its work throughout has brought to the National Employment Exchange system an element which has humanised the movement.The state of the Labour Market and the condition of trade after the lapse of the period of reconstruction following the war will be so favourable that the physically fit man will experience little difficulty in securing employment, but even if that is so we shall, for a long time, have with us the disabled man, who, without assistance and guidance, cannot be suitably placed in industry. We must see an extension of the good-will and sympathy evinced by the Y.M.C.A. movement amongst every class in the community.The Advisory Committee of the Ministry of Labour are getting up a special department to deal with the discharged soldier. What the Y.M.C.A. contributes to this problem is character.—Mr. G. H. Roberts, M.P., Minister of Labour.
The state of the Labour Market and the condition of trade after the lapse of the period of reconstruction following the war will be so favourable that the physically fit man will experience little difficulty in securing employment, but even if that is so we shall, for a long time, have with us the disabled man, who, without assistance and guidance, cannot be suitably placed in industry. We must see an extension of the good-will and sympathy evinced by the Y.M.C.A. movement amongst every class in the community.
The Advisory Committee of the Ministry of Labour are getting up a special department to deal with the discharged soldier. What the Y.M.C.A. contributes to this problem is character.—Mr. G. H. Roberts, M.P., Minister of Labour.