The War Romance of the Salvation Army

by Evangeline Booth; Grace Livingston Hill

At Headquarters they were becoming anxious about the non-appearance of the truck and started out in the touring car to locate it. Commencing at Jouey-les-Côtés they went from there to Boucq and Raulecourt, which were the last places the truck was to visit. Not hearing of it at Raulecourt, the search was continued out to Bouconville, again, by a short road. Montsec was in full view. There were fresh shell holes all along the road since the night before. Things began to look serious.

A short distance ahead was an army truck, and even as they got abreast of it a shell went over it exploding about twenty-five feet away, and one hit the side of the road just behind them. It seemed wise to put on all speed.

But when they reached Bouconville and found that the truck they had passed was the Salvation Army truck, they were unwilling to leave it to the tender mercies of the enemy as everybody advised. That truck cost fifty-five hundred dollars, and they did not want to lose it.

As soon as it was dark a detail of soldiers volunteered to go with the Salvation Army officers to attempt to get it out, but the Germans heard them and started their shelling furiously once more, so that they had to retreat for a time; but later, they returned and worked all night trying to jack it up and get a foundation that would permit of hauling it out. Every little while all night the Germans shelled them. About half-past four in the morning it grew light enough for the enemy to see, and the top was taken off the truck so that it would not be so good a mark.

That day they went back to Headquarters and secured permission for an ammunition truck to come down and give them a tow, as no driver was permitted out on that road without a special permit from Headquarters. The journey back was filled with perils from gas shells, especially around Dead Man’s Curve, but they escaped unhurt. That night they attached a tow line to the front of the truck, started the engine quietly, and waited until the assisting truck came along out of the darkness. They then attached their line without stopping the other truck and with the aid of its own power the old doughnut truck was jerked out of the ditch at last and sent on its way. In spite of the many shells for which it had been a target it was uninjured save that it needed a new top. The knowledge that the truck was stuck in the ditch and was being shelled aroused great excitement among all the troops in the Toul Sector and it was thereafter an object of considerable interest. Newspaper correspondents telegraphed reports of it around the world.

In most of the huts and dugouts Salvation Army workers subsist entirely upon Army chow. At Bouconville the chow was frequently supplemented by fresh fish. The dugout here was very close to the trenches, less than five minutes’ walk. Just behind the trenches to the left was a small lake. When there was sufficient artillery fire to mask their attack, soldiers would toss a hand grenade into this lake, thus stunning hundreds of fish which would float to the surface, where they were gathered in by the sackful. The Salvation Army dugout was never without its share of the spoils.

Before the soldiers began to think, as they do now, that being detailed to the Salvation Army hut was a privilege, an Army officer sent one of his soldiers, who seemed to be in danger of developing a yellow streak, to sweep the hut and light the fires for the lassies. “You are only fit to wash dishes, and hang on to a woman’s skirts,” he told the soldier in informing him that he was detailed. That night the village was bombed. The boy, who was really frightened, watched the two girls, being too proud to run for shelter while they were so calm. He trembled and shook while they sat quietly listening to the swish of falling bombs and the crash of anti-aircraft guns. In spite of his fright, he was so ashamed of his fears that he forced himself to stand in the street and watch the progress of the raid. The next day he reported to his Captain that he had vanquished his yellow streak and wanted a chance to demonstrate what he said. The demonstration was ample. The example of these brave lassies had somehow strengthened his spirit.

Back of Raulecourt the woods were full of heavy artillery. Raulecourt was the first town back of the front lines. The men were relieved every eight days and passed through here to other places to rest.

The military authorities sent word to the Salvation Army hut one day that fifty Frenchmen would be going through from the trenches at five o’clock in the morning who would have had no opportunity to get anything to eat.

The Salvation Army people went to work and baked up a lot of biscuits and doughnuts and cakes, and got hot coffee ready. The Red Cross canteen was better situated to serve the men and had more conveniences, so they took the things over there, and the Red Cross supplied hot chocolate, and when the men came they were well served. This is a sample of the spirit of cooperation which prevailed. One Sunday night they were just starting the evening service when word came from the military authorities that there were a hundred men coming through the town who were hungry and ought to be fed. They must be out of the town by nine-thirty as they were going over the top that night. Could the Salvation Army do anything?