The last service of all on the deck of the flagship, on April 18, 1915, had for its message: 'Faith in God's leadership,' 'The Pillar of Cloud by day and the Pillar of Fire by night.' It was a pillar of cloud—clouds of battle-smoke—and a pillar of fire from the thunderous guns of our Fleet; and although it was not written in the Book of Fate that we should take Gallipoli, we may yet believe that God was with us.
In that address, after showing, first, that God does lead nations, and, secondly, we are not in the war for Empire aggrandizement, but for the preservation of God-given ideals—I turned to ask: 'Are we suitable instruments for the fulfilment of God's will?'
I look back with thankfulness to the fact that my last words to the men who were going to land at Gallipoli were on 'personal salvation.' 'Some of you may be satisfied that we are right as a nation in regard to God, but you may have confused and troubled thoughts about your own relation to God. You say, "I am not a church member or communicant. What about my personal salvation?" In regard to the forgiveness of sins, there is no magic or mystery about it. A man can be a Christian without knowing the creeds, just as a man can be a soldier without knowing the military text-books. The great revelation of the Bible is of God as a Father. Think of a good father. He would forgive even a prodigal son. So will God. But there must be repentance. If you thus come, God will accept you and say: "Thy sins which were many are all forgiven; go in peace and sin no more." Thus you may go forward, and fight all your battles knowing that at last, when you ground your arms before the Throne of God, and answer the roll-call of eternity, you will hear the Father say, "Well done, thou hast been faithful unto death; enter into Life."'
On a brilliant day of Mediterranean beauty our ships lifted their anchors, and, amid resounding cheers, one after another steamed out into the Ægean Sea, in the wake of the fabled Argonauts and on the ancient track of the Greek army sailing for the Plains of Troy. In the darkness battleships and transports took up their allotted positions, and in the early dawn there began one of the greatest combined naval and military battles which the world has ever seen.
Even amid the tragedy of those Gallipoli days we lived under the spell of the storied past. We were living in St. Paul's world. On a certain bright Sunday morning we addressed some hundreds of men on 'Paul's vision and call to Macedonia.'
We were fairly safe, for the shells flew over us on their way to the beach, and the hill intervening stopped the rifle-fire of the enemy. It is a good thing to be on the right side of the hill.
The men were always glad to hear about that indomitable fighter, Paul. We were able to point to Kum Kale in the distance, which our battleships had bombarded some days previously. It is the ancient Troas, from which Paul sailed, and Troas again is the more ancient Troy. He 'made a straight course to Samothrace.'
This would take his little ship (something like that Greek lugger sailing in our sight) over the place where a few days before our good friend, H.M.S. Triumph, was sunk by a submarine. And there, to the right, was Samothrace, in its snow-capped beauty, facing us.
That was the romance. We were in the ancient world. The reality was that we were verminous, plagued with flies and all the diseases they bring.
After visiting the dug-outs that day, I had to bathe in the Gulf of Saros, wash all my clothes, and, dressed in others less worrying, try to sleep in my cave of Adullam that night. Experiences solemn and weird were ours on that craggy shore.