Every Man Hit except the Chaplain.
Most of these chaplains had already received their baptism of fire. At Reitfontein Messrs. Macpherson and Hordern had found themselves in a particularly warm corner. Some fifteen men of the Gloucesters, with an officer, were in a donga which provided hardly any cover, and the two chaplains going out to the Field Hospital had perforce to share with their comrades the dangers of the terrible position. The Boers were firing at them with awful precision, and when the Liverpools—all unconscious that a handful of English were seeking cover in the donga—commenced to fire at the Boers, it made retreat for the dauntless fifteen impossible. They had unwillingly to remain where they were until the Boers were put out of action by the Liverpools. When at last the firing ceased, it was found that nearly every man of that unlucky fifteen was hit, with the exception of the chaplains, who came out unscathed.
This was an experience that perhaps would have been enough for most men, but chaplains, like private soldiers, have to get used to bullets flying around them. It is no use preaching religion to the men, if the chaplain is not able to show by his own coolness in the hour of danger that he is fit for something else than preaching, that he is ready to share the men's dangers and privations, and that he too can set an example of courage.
Mr. Watkins had received his baptism of fire in the Soudan, and, like the rest, did not fear the sharp ping, followed by the dull thud, of the Mauser, or the deeper swish of the Martini. No one got used to shells. They ever continued a terror, and when the whistle sounded, giving warning that the wisp of smoke had been seen coming from one of the Boer Long Toms, and intimating that in some twenty-eight seconds the dreaded shell would burst above them, it was astonishing how fast and how far even the oldest and the stoutest could travel in search of cover.
Personal Dangers Met by Chaplains on Duty in the Field.
One or two short stories may put into clearer perspective the personal danger of our chaplains on the field. Messrs. Hordern and Tuckey were both with their men in the Lombard's Kop fight. Mr. Hordern was attached to the Field Hospital, which was sheltering from the shot and shell under the shadow of a huge hill. By-and-by came the order for the hospital to retire. It was about a mile and a quarter from Ladysmith, and there were no sheltering hills. The Red Cross was distinctly marked on the ambulance wagons, and the Indian dhooli-bearers must have been clearly seen; but as soon as the hospital emerged from the cover of the hill a Boer gun opened fire upon it, and very soon shell was falling upon all sides. With Mr. Hordern was the Rev. S.H. Hardy, and both of them were exposed to the full fire of the enemy. Mr. Hordern, thinking there might possibly be a safer place than the very centre of the cavalcade, spurred his horse forward, and the moment after a shell burst on the very spot where he had been.
On another occasion Mr. Owen Watkins was out with the Field Hospital, and he and the doctor dismounted in order, if possible, to bring in some wounded from under fire. They had just accomplished this self-imposed mission when a shot, coming a little too near, disturbed Mr. Watkins' horse, which bolted. In trying to find it he lost sight of the hospital, which had moved away, and found himself in desperate plight. Neither horse nor hospital to be seen, and a mile and a half of open country between him and safety. The Boers' bullets were falling around him, and there was nothing for it but to run, and amid a perfect hail of bullets he fled in the direction of Ladysmith. That run seemed the longest in his life, but unscathed he came through it, and found another hospital wagon full of wounded, returning to the town. Into it he got, and other horrors of war were at once before him. He had no time to think of his own near escape from death, for there was a dying lad upon his knee. Another was leaning his head on his shoulder, and his hands were busy passing water or brandy to the wounded or dying.
Through such experiences our chaplains go, and go gladly, for Him who is at once their Saviour and their King. Not much is heard of their work, not often are they mentioned in despatches; only one of them has ever received the Victoria Cross, but most of them are heroes, and deserve well of the country that gave them birth. It is sufficient for them that they receive the praise of God, and there can be no higher reward for them than the Master's 'Well done.'