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 alone in 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 about to 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 would play, 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 did not 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 four days 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, SWITZERLAND
The Y.M.C.A. is a Christian Association, the Red Triangle a Christian emblem, and for 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 Lord Jesus 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.