I knew that, scattered all over London, were Huts and Hostels which they have provided for these lads who were strangers in a strange city, and that many of them would be taken to these places, given a hot supper, and provided with a comfortable bed. I know, too, while the lads were under the influence of the Y.M.C.A., no harm would happen to them, that they would be surrounded by good and healthy influences, and that as many of them who had no homes in England could stay at the Hostels during their leave.
But there were other influences at work. Not only were there these noble bands of workers, who existed for our soldiers' comfort and salvation,—there were scores of evil women who hovered around waiting like vultures to swoop upon their prey.
It is difficult to write about, difficult to contemplate. Scores of these boys, who for months had been away at the front, living without many refining influences, living, too, under strict discipline amidst all the stress and horror of war, were suddenly given their liberty, and let loose in our great City. Most of them would have plenty of money, for there are few opportunities of spending at the front, and they would be freed from all restrictions. Then their danger began. Lads, many of them inspired by no religious ideals, excited by their liberty, with no restraint of any sort placed upon them, became an easy prey to those who looked upon them as victims. The angels of light were there to help them, but there were also many creatures of darkness who lured them to destruction, and these creatures of darkness were allowed to ply their ghastly trade often without let or hindrance.
I could not help feeling the tragedy of it. These lads who had been living from hour to hour, and from minute to minute, amidst the roar of great guns, the shriek of shells, the pep-pep-pep of machine-guns, never knowing when death would come, were suddenly and without preparation thrown upon the bosom of our great modern Babylon; and on their return they were met by these creatures.
'It is ghastly, it is hellish!' said Edgecumbe, as we returned across
Waterloo Bridge.
'What can be done?' I asked helplessly.
'These fellows should be safeguarded,' he replied. 'Oh, I know the difficulties, but those creatures should be dealt with with a strong hand; they should not be allowed in such places. The boys coming home from danger and death should be protected from such temptations. It is not a thing to talk about, not a thing to discuss in public; but think of the inwardness of it, think of the ghastly diseases, the loss of manhood, the corruption of soul, that follows in the train of what we have seen,—and it is going on all over London.'
'You can't put down vice by Act of Parliament,' I replied.
'No, but a great deal more can be done than is done,' was his answer. 'People don't talk about these things in their drawing-rooms, or in their social circles, but they exist,—my God, they exist! And this is supposed to be a holy war! Still, thank God for the good that is being done, for the organizations which exist for men's comfort and salvation.'
And then he did not speak another word until we reached the hotel.