A Fortnight at the Front

by Henry Russell Wakefield

A CURE FOR PESSIMISM

Whether any one has the right to make any statement with regard to something which has only been studied for a short time is questionable, and, therefore, I do not pretend to any dogmatic utterance, but I wish simply to state the effect produced upon me by my time abroad. My experience goes from thirty-five yards from the German trenches right back to the most southern and westerly of our bases. Bearing in mind that through the courtesy of Headquarters I have been able to see everything under the most comfortable and time-saving circumstances, it must be admitted that though my view may have been superficial, it certainly was comprehensive. I had the satisfaction of being able to give a kind word and a blessing even where one was asked not to speak too loud in case our enemies should overhear; I held confirmations in several places, and addressed troops, both wounded and strong and hearty, on many occasions.

The first thing which struck me was the great courtesy and consideration of everybody who was concerned with our visit. That the authorities at Headquarters who were working, as I know, both early and late, must have felt that one was a very unnecessary addition to their troubles is, I should fancy, unquestionable; yet not only did they never show it, on the contrary, they worked every day to make our visit easy and delightful. I know that the Lord Mayor of Birmingham, who spent nearly a week with me, feels this as warmly as myself, and it shows the wonderful calm of an Englishman that we were both so kindly treated, though we added in no way to the happiness or usefulness of anybody. What I have said with regard to the Staff at Headquarters applies also to all those who had to do with us at all the various centres.

The next thing which struck me was the way in which the British have, as it were, taken possession of the whole of that area for which our people are responsible. You go through village after village, and the ubiquitous person is our soldier. He appears out of farm buildings, he leans over gates, holding difficult conversation, not only with the young maidens of the village, but with dear old ladies who can be seen taking a motherly interest in him. In the towns he pervades the whole place. Always bright and cheerful, and yet conscious of his responsibility, our khaki-clad young fellow maintains his good character and earns the respect of the people. I asked a French Archbishop and also a French Bishop, the jurisdiction of both of whom is within our area, if they were satisfied with the behaviour of our men, and on each occasion the answer was that they were beyond reproach. We do not seem to be visitors in France, but we almost appear to have taken root there. The buildings we are putting up, the railway extensions we are making, the way in which we have turned bare spaces into towns, all these things make one feel as if we were permanent institutions and not birds of passage. It is not altogether wonderful that some of the more ignorant French people should say that they do not believe we are ever going away; whilst on the other hand, some French officers told me that their confidence in our alliance had become immensely greater because we had done everything in such a stable manner, one man going so far as to say to me that he considered one of the surest signs of our determination to see this war through was that so many of our officers had taken houses for three years certain. It is only just to add in regard to a large number of the buildings we have put up that they can be taken down, carried away and be put up over here with practically no difficulty. Another impression produced upon me was one of increasing respect for the adaptability of the Englishman. It shows itself in innumerable military ways which I hardly have the right to mention, but one may be permitted the general observation that there is no kind of obstacle which we do not seem to surmount and even sometimes to turn to an advantage. What we have done in turning to good use even some extraordinary effects of shell fire upon buildings made me more than astonished; perhaps I may be allowed one instance. Somewhere in France there was a railway station and near it an estaminet; both, as far as one could judge, were destroyed, with the exception of a portion of a chimney. By some miraculous means which I cannot describe, one went along all kinds of underground places, then up some steps and into what I believe was a portion of the chimney, and from there through a crevice one was able to see a good deal of the German lines quite close by. When one came out again, one could not in the least tell where it was that one had been. To take a less warlike instance of our power of getting over difficulties: a certain officers' mess is established in a French farm which a few months ago had a duck pond which gave forth an odour which was both unpleasant and unsavoury. Consequent, I believe, upon the enthusiasm of a particular major, within four months the pond was empty, the ground was levelled, the seeds were sown, and when I was there the pond had become quite a respectable lawn-tennis ground. It is safe to say that one's gardener would have expected to have four years instead of four months for such an operation.

I may give, perhaps, another instance of this special quality of the Britisher. The Artists' Corps went out to France for ordinary duties; they have now become an Officers' Training Corps, and an enormous percentage of them are holding commissions in every kind of regiment.

Not only so, but they are largely instrumental in carrying on a kind of Sandhurst on French soil; they are, I believe, influential in the management of a bomb school, and last, but not least, they have a band in which the soldiers rejoice, and of which I wish there were many more at the Front.

I am personally greatly indebted to the Artists; first, because a very charming officer of their number was placed in charge of me for a considerable time and bore with me in patience; secondly, because I found such a hearty welcome from them at their mess and so many friends amongst their number; thirdly, because they turned up so well at the Parade Service at which I was the preacher!

The next thing which struck me was the calm in the trenches. Over here in England we seem to live in a continual change of feeling. We get the account of some engagement in which we are successful, and immediately we conclude the war is going to be over to-morrow, and people who are wont to go abroad for a holiday think it is time they went to Messrs. Cook's office to see about their tickets. But on the way they see the placard of an evening paper which tells of some minor disaster to our Forces, and then they return home, they call together the family and they tell them that the future means either the destruction of the country or twenty years of misery and poverty; the bulk of the misfortune, of course, being sure to rest upon their own individual shoulders. It is refreshing to get away from this atmosphere and to go into the trenches where everybody is doing his bit of work, content with somewhat unpleasant circumstances so long as through him England is served. Whenever, in future, I am inclined towards a fit of pessimism, I shall shut my eyes in order to see once again, with the vision of the spirit, a stalwart Britisher of the Worcester Regiment, not very far from the German lines, on a certain afternoon, when a most appalling thunderstorm was raging and some German shells were falling. He was munching the thickest slice of bread and jam that I have ever seen, and looking with a mild contempt at the intruding figure of an unknown padre whom a considerable number of his comrades were greeting because they recognised in him their Bishop. He put down now and again his refreshment in order to do some bit of work, but he was just as calm and collected as if he had been in his Worcestershire village and not in the trenches.

That which carries our men through so many difficulties is another thing which impressed me—namely, their unfailing sense of humour; a humour which is never really hurtful even when exercised upon some one deserving of satire. When he christens a road along which there are a couple of miles of Army Service carts "Lorry Park," when he finds every kind of strange anglicising for Flemish or French words, we know that he is not only having some fun for himself, but also providing amusement for those who come after him. The same humour shines out when he is in hard case. A chaplain told me that he had been addressing informally some wounded men who had just arrived from the trenches. He was expatiating upon the glories of the Victoria Cross because he noticed some of the men came from a regiment one of whose number had recently received that coveted distinction. Suddenly his eloquence was disturbed by a voice proceeding from a man, both of whose feet were swathed in bandages, who remarked, "Never mind the Victoria Cross, give me the Victoria 'Bus!" Obviously the soldier's sense of humour was conquering his pain, and his remark made the rest of the party forget their sufferings for a short time. The only excuse that I can find for the fluctuating feelings of the people at home is the remarkable way in which they minister to Tommy's love of fun. He has every kind of quaint name for the people in "Blighty"—the name which, though derived, I believe, from an Eastern word denoting home, nevertheless expresses something of the attitude noticeable at certain periods, both in people and Press in England, and which appeals through its appropriateness to the humour of our soldiers. But at the same time there is a wonderful thankfulness shown in the face of officers and men when the time arrives for the short spell of leave. The old country and the friends left behind there are, after all, the things closest to the hearts of our men.

The next thing upon which I would comment is the great mutual respect between ourselves and the French. Every time I asked any of our people what they thought of our Allies the answer was one of unhesitating commendation, whilst in the same way when I spoke to French officers or men, they expressed themselves in terms of absolute trust in our nation and her statesmen and soldiers. As one who saw the French during the war of 1870, when—being a boy—I was very susceptible to impressions, I can hardly express the difference I notice between the nation then and now. In the former war there was excitement, impulsiveness, over-confidence, want of ballast; to-day there is quietude, earnestness, and withal, assurance of eventual victory. More than once I journeyed through a considerable part of the French lines, and I assert with confidence that the Army of France at the present time is incomparably superior to that which she placed in the field in 1870. As to her civilians, I only saw women, children, and old men; I did not, in all my thousand miles of travel, discover a single able-bodied person of military age out of uniform.

The harvest, a very good one, was in full swing. Every family was out in the fields, all doing something towards the in-gathering. I have a picture now before my eyes of seven people, all undoubtedly coming from the same house, working away hard, whilst at the tail end of the procession appeared what might have been the great-grandpapa, no longer capable of bending down for harvesting, but who, nevertheless, had his piece of work in carrying about the baby, who, of course, could not be left behind alone in the house. The whole nation is doing its utmost; can we quite honestly say the same of England?

VERMELLES—THE CASTLE RUINS

Another subject which was constantly commented upon and appreciated at the Front was the thoroughness with which the Germans had done and were doing everything. It was a matter of genuine regret with our people that they could not be as wholehearted as they would wish to be in appreciation of our enemies, in consequence of the way in which they had sullied the fair fame of noble warfare. If there is one thing a soldier wishes to do more than another it is to be able to speak with respect and admiration of his opponent, and, unfortunately, what the German would have gained by his magnificent methodical thoroughness, he has lost through his dishonourable and brutal conduct of the war. At the same time, it should be fairly stated that in the judgment of those to whom I spoke the destruction of churches by our foes has not been so wanton as is sometimes put before us. It was suggested to me that in all probability the church was often destroyed for the same reason as a high chimney, because it formed an excellent observation post.

Before I leave the subject of the men at the Front, one of their constant questions must be noted, which was whether they might expect as much keenness on the part of our civilian population as was being shown by those under arms. "We are doing our bit, but we shall need increased, even greatly increased, assistance; I suppose we can be sure of getting it." Those words still ring in my ears.