May and June, 1915.
When our men came out of the line, the 2nd Field Ambulance was ordered back for rest and reorganization to a village called Ouderdom, three miles to the Southwest, and their O.C. invited me to follow them. It was late in the evening when I started to walk. The light was fading and, as I had no map, I was not certain where Ouderdom was. I went down the road, delighting in the sweet smells of nature. It was with a sense of unusual freedom that I walked along with all my worldly possessions in my haversack. I thought how convenient it was to lose one's kit1. Now I could lie down beside any haystack and feel quite at home. The evening air grew chillier2 and I thought I had better get some roof over my head for the night. I asked various men that I met where Ouderdom was. None of them knew. I was forced once again to take my solitary3 journey into the great unknown. It was therefore with much satisfaction that, when quite dark, I came upon some wooden huts and saw a number of men round a little fire in a field. I went up to one of the huts and found in it a very kind and courteous4 middle-aged5 lieutenant6, who was in charge of a detachment of Indian troops. When he heard I was looking for the Field Ambulance and going towards Ouderdom, he told me it was much too late to continue my journey that night. "You stay with me in my hut, Padré," he said, "and in the morning I will give you a horse to take you to your men." He told me that he had been living by himself and was only too delighted to have a companion to talk to. He treated me as bounteously7 as circumstances would permit, and after a good dinner, he gave me a blanket and straw bed on the floor of his hut. It was very pleasant to come out of the darkness and loneliness of the road and find such a kind host, and such good hospitality. We discussed many things that night, and the next day I was shown over the camp. Later on, the Lieutenant sent me on horseback to Ouderdom. There I found the Ambulance encamped in a pleasant field beside a large pond, which afforded us the luxury of a bath. I shall never forget those two restful days I spent at Ouderdom. I blamed the blankets, however, for causing an irritation8 of the skin, which lasted till I was able to have another wash and change.
Pleasant as my life was with the Ambulance, I felt I ought to go back and join my Brigade. I got a ride to the transport at Brielen, and there, under a waggon9 cover, had a very happy home. Near us an Imperial battery fired almost incessantly10 all night long. While lying awake one night thinking of the men that had gone, and wondering what those ardent11 spirits were now doing, the lines came to me which were afterwards published in "The Times":
"REQUIESCANT"
In lonely watches night by night,
Great visions burst upon my sight,
For down the stretches of the sky
The hosts of dead go marching by.
Strange ghostly banners o'er them float,
Strange bugles12 sound an awful note,
And all their faces and their eyes
Are lit with starlight from the skies.
The anguish13 and the pain have passed,
And peace hath come to them at last.
But in the stern looks linger still
The iron purpose and the will.
Dear Christ, who reign'st above the flood
Of human tears and human blood,
A weary road these men have trod,
O house them in the home of God.
The Quartermaster of the 3rd Brigade furnished me with a change of underwear, for which I was most grateful. I felt quite proud of having some extra clothes again. The battalions14 were moved at last out of the area and we were ordered off to rest. Our first stop was near Vlamertinghe. We reached it in the afternoon, and, chilly16 though it was, I determined17 to have a bath. Murdoch MacDonald got a bucket of water from a green and slimy pond and put it on the other side of a hedge, and there I retired18 to have a wash and change. I was just in the midst of the process when, to my confusion, the Germans began to shell the adjoining field, and splinters of shell fell in the hedge behind me. The transport men on the other side called out to me to run and take cover with them under the waggons19. "I can't, boys", I replied, "I have got no clothes on." They roared with laughter at my plight20. Though clothes are not at all an impregnable armour21, somehow or other you feel safer when you are dressed. There was nothing for it but to complete my ablutions, which I did so effectually in the cold spring air that I got a chill. That night I was racked with pains as I rode on the horse which the M.O. lent me, on our march to Bailleul.
We arrived in the quaint22 old town about two in the morning, and I made my way in the dark to the hotel in the Square. I was refused admission on the reasonable plea that every bed was already occupied. I was just turning away, wondering where I could go, for I was hardly able to stand up, when an officer came out and said I might go up to a room on the top storey and get into his bed as he would need it no more. It was quite delightful23, not only to find a bed, but one which had been so nicely and wholesomely24 warmed. I spent a most uncomfortable night, and in the morning I wondered if my batman would find out where I was and come and look after me. About ten o'clock I heard a knock at the door and called out "Come in." To my astonishment25, a very smart staff officer, with a brass26 hat and red badges, made his way into my room, and startled me by saying, "I am the Deputy-Judge-Advocate-General." "Oh", I said, "I was hoping you were my batman." He laughed at that and told me his business. There had been a report that one of our Highlanders had been crucified on the door of a barn. The Roman Catholic Chaplain of the 3rd Brigade and myself had tried to trace the story to its origin. We found that the nearest we could get to it was, that someone had told somebody else about it. One day I managed to discover a Canadian soldier who said he had seen the crucifixion himself. I at once took some paper out of my pocket and a New Testament29 and told him, "I want you to make that statement on oath and put your signature to it." He said, "It is not necessary." But he had been talking so much about the matter to the men around him that he could not escape. I had kept his sworn testimony30 in my pocket and it was to obtain this that the Deputy-Judge-Advocate-General had called upon me. I gave it to him and told him that in spite of the oath, I thought the man was not telling the truth. Weeks afterwards I got a letter from the Deputy-Judge telling me he had found the man, who, when confronted by a staff officer, weakened, and said he was mistaken in swearing that he had seen the crucifixion he had only been told about it by someone else. We have no right to charge the Germans with the crime. They have done so many things equally bad, that we do not need to bring charges against them of which we are not quite sure.
The Brigade was quartered in the little village of Steenje. It was a pretty place, and it was delightful to be back in the peaceful country again. May was bringing out the spring flowers and the trees wore fresh green leaves. There was something about the exhilarating life we were leading which made one extremely sensitive to the beauties of nature. I have never cared much for flowers, except in a general way. But now I noticed a great change. A wild flower growing in a ditch by the wayside seemed to me to be almost a living thing, and spoke31 in its mute way of its life of peace and contentment, and mocked, by its very humility32, the world of men which was so full of noise and death. Colour too made a most powerful appeal to the heart. The gleam of sunlight on the moss33 that covered an old thatched roof gave one a thrill of gladness. The world of nature putting on its fresh spring dress had its message to hearts that were lonely and anxious, and it was a message of calm courage and hope. In Julian Grenfell's beautiful poem "Into Battle," he notes this message of the field and trees. Everything in nature spoke to the fighting man and gave him its own word of cheer.
Of course all the men did not show they were conscious of these emotional suggestions, but I think they felt them nevertheless. The green fields and shining waters around Steenje had a very soothing34 effect upon minds that had passed through the bitterest ordeal35 in their life's experience. I remember one morning having a service of Holy Communion in the open air. Everything was wonderful and beautiful. The golden sunlight was streaming across the earth in full radiance. The trees were fresh and green, and hedges marked out the field with walls of living beauty. The grass in the meadow was soft and velvety36, and, just behind the spot where I had placed the altar, a silver stream wandered slowly by. When one adds to such a scene, the faces of a group of earnest, well-made and heroic young men, it is easily understood that the beauty of the service was complete. When it was over, I reminded them of the twenty-third Psalm37, "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters." There too was the table prepared before us in the presence of our enemies.
At Steenje, as no billet had been provided for me, the Engineers took me in and treated me right royally. Not only did they give me a pile of straw for a bed in the dormitory upstairs, but they also made me an honorary member of their mess. Of the work of the "Sappers", in the Great War, one cannot speak too highly. Brave and efficient, they were always working and co-operating enthusiastically with the infantry38. Every week now that passed was deepening that sense of comradeship which bound our force together. The mean people, the men who thought only of themselves, were either being weeded out or taught that there was no place for selfishness in the army. One great lesson was impressed upon me in the war, and that is, how wonderfully the official repression39 of wrong thoughts and jealousies40 tends to their abolition41. A man who lets his wild fancies free, and gives rein42 to his anger and selfishness, is going to become the victim of his own mind. If people at home could only be prevented, as men were in the war, from saying all the bitter and angry things they feel, and from criticising the actions of their neighbours, a different temper of thought would prevail. The comradeship men experienced in the Great War was due to the fact that everyone knew comradeship was essential to our happiness and success. It would be well if all over Canada men realized that the same is true of our happiness and success in times of peace. What might we not accomplish if our national and industrial life were full of mutual43 sympathy and love!
Our rest at Steenje was not of long duration. Further South another attack was to be made and so one evening, going in the direction whither our troops were ordered, I was motored to the little village of Robecq. There I managed to get a comfortable billet for myself in the house of a carpenter. My bedroom was a tiny compartment44 which looked out on the backyard. It was quite delightful to lie in a real bed again and as I was enjoying the luxury late in the morning I watched the carpenter making a baby's coffin45. Robecq then was a very charming place. The canal, on which was a hospital barge46, gave the men an opportunity for a swim, and the spring air and the sunshine put them in high spirits.
It was at Robecq, that I had my first sight of General Haig. I was standing47 in the Square one afternoon when I saw the men on the opposite side spring suddenly to attention. I felt that something was going to happen. To my astonishment, I saw a man ride up carrying a flag on a lance. He was followed by several other mounted men. It was so like a pageant48 that I said to myself, "Hello, here comes Joan of Arc." Then a general appeared with his brilliant staff. The General advanced and we all saluted49, but he, spying my chaplain's collar, rode over to me and shook hands and asked if I had come over with the Canadians. I told him I had. Then he said, "I am so glad you have all come into my Army." I did not know who he was or what army we were in, or in fact what the phrase meant, but I thought it was wise to say nice things to a general, so I told him we were all very glad too. He seemed gratified and rode off in all the pomp and circumstance of war. I heard afterwards that he was General Haig, who at that time commanded the First Army. He had from the start, the respect of all in the British Expeditionary Force.
A sudden call "to stand to", however, reminded us that the war was not yet won. The Brigadier told me that we had to move the next morning at five. Then he asked me how I was going and I quoted my favourite text, "The Lord will provide." My breakfast at 3.30 next morning consisted of a tin of green peas without bread or other adulterations and a cup of coffee. At five a.m. I started to walk, but it was not long before I was overtaken by the car of an artillery50 officer, and carried, in great glory, past the General and his staff, whose horses we nearly pushed into the ditch on the narrow road. The Brigadier waved his hand and congratulated me upon the way in which Providence51 was looking after me. That afternoon our brigade was settled in reserve trenches52 at Lacouture. There were a number of Ghurka regiments53 in the neighbourhood, as well as some Guards battalions. I had a service for the bomb-throwers in a little orchard54 that evening, and I found a billet with the officers of the unit in a particularly small and dirty house by the wayside.
Some of us lay on the floor and I made my bed on three chairs—a style of bed which I said I would patent on my return to Canada. The chairs, with the middle one facing in the opposite direction to prevent one rolling off, were placed at certain distances where the body needed special support, and made a very comfortable resting place, free from those inhabitants which infested55 the ordinary places of repose56. Of course we did not sleep much, and somebody, amid roars of laughter called for breakfast about two-thirty a.m. The cook who was sleeping in the same room got up and prepared bacon and coffee, and we had quite an enjoyable meal, which did not prevent our having a later one about nine a.m., after which, I beguiled57 the time by reading aloud Leacock's "Arcadian Adventures with the Idle Rich." Later in the day, I marched off with our men who were going into the trenches, for the battle of Festubert. We passed the place called Indian Village and went to the trenches just beyond.
We met a bearer-party bringing out a young German prisoner who was badly wounded. I went over to him and offered him a cigarette. This he declined, but asked for some water, putting out his dry tongue to show how parched58 it was. I called to some of our men to know if they could spare him a drink. Several gladly ran across and offered their water-bottles. They were always kind to wounded prisoners. "If thine enemy thirst give him drink." Just before the men went into the trenches, I shook hands with one or two and then, as they passed up, half the battalion15 shook hands with me. I was glad they did, but at the same time I felt then that it was not wise for a chaplain to do anything which looked as if he were taking matters too seriously. It was the duty of everyone to forget private feelings in the one absorbing desire to kill off the enemy. I saw the different battalions going up and was returning towards headquarters when whom should I meet but the dreaded59 Brigadier coming up the road with his staff. It was impossible to dodge60 him; I could see already that he was making towards me. When he came up to me, he asked me what I was doing there, and ordered me back to Headquarters on pain of a speedy return to No. 2 General Hospital. "If you come east of my Headquarters," he said, "you will be sent back absolutely certainly." That night I took my revenge by sleeping in his deserted61 bed, and found it very comfortable.
Our Brigade Headquarters were at Le Touret in a large farm surrounded by a moat. We were quite happy, but on the next day, which I spent in censoring62 the letters of the 13th Battalion, I was told that the 2nd Brigade were coming to occupy the billet and that I had to get out and forage63 for myself. At half past six in the evening I saw from my window the giant form of General Currie followed by his staff, riding across the bridge over the moat. He looked very imposing64, but I knew it meant that the bed I had slept in was no longer mine. I called my friend Murdoch MacDonald and I got him to pack my haversack. "Murdoch", I said, "once more we have to face the big, black world alone, but—'the Lord will provide'". The sun had set, the air was cool and scented65 richly with the fermented66 manure67 spread upon the land. Many units were scattered68 through the fields. We went from one place to another, but alas69 there was no billet for us. It was tiring work, and both Murdoch and I were getting very hungry and also very grumpy. The prospect70 of sleeping under the stars in the chilly night was not pleasant. I am ashamed to say my faith began to waver, and I said to Murdoch MacDonald, "Murdoch, my friend, the Lord is a long time providing for us tonight." We made our way back to the main road and there I saw an Imperial Officer who was acting71 as a point man and directing traffic. I told him my difficulty and implored72 him, as it was now getting on towards eleven p.m., to tell me where I could get a lodging73 for the night. He thought for a while and then said, "I think you may find a bed for yourself and your man in the prison." The words had an ominous74 sound, but I remembered how often people at home found refuge for the night in the police station. He told me to go down the road to the third farmhouse75, where I should find the quarters of some Highland27 officers and men. The farm was called the prison, because it was the place in which captured Germans were to be held until they were sent down the line. Followed by Murdoch, I made my way again down the busy road now crowded with transports, troops and ambulances. It was hard to dodge them in the mud and dark. I found the farmhouse, passed the sentry76, and was admitted to the presence of two young officers of the Glasgow Highlanders. I told them who I was and how I had been bidden by the patrol officer to seek refuge with them. They received me most cordially and told me they had a spare heap of straw in the room. They not only said they would arrange for me for the night, but they called their servant and told him to get me some supper. They said I looked worn out. A good dish of ham and eggs and a cup of strong tea at that time were most refreshing77 and when I had finished eating, seeing a copy of the Oxford78 Book of Verse on the table, I began to read it to them, and finally, and quite naturally, found myself later on, about one a.m., reciting my own poems. It was most interesting meeting another set of men. The barn, which was kept as a prison for Germans was large and commodious79. As we took only five or six prisoners at that time, it was more than sufficient for the purpose. The officers told me that the reason why so few prisoners turned up was that the Canadians got tired of their charges before they arrived at the prison, and only handed over a few as souvenirs. I really think the Scotsmen believed it. The Glasgow men moved away and were succeeded by a company of Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders. The tables were now turned, for as I had kept on inhabiting the large room with the three heaps of straw in it, the two officers who came "to take over" asked my permission to make their billet in the prison.
In the meantime, the fighting in the trenches was very fierce. I spent my days in parish visiting and my nights at the various dressing80 stations. The batteries of artillery were all round us in the fields and orchards81, and there was great concentration of British and Canadian guns. In spite of the brigadier's orders, I often went east of Headquarters. One lovely Sunday evening I had a late service for men of the 16th Battalion in an orchard. They were going off later into No Man's Land on a working party. The service, which was a voluntary one, had therefore an underlying82 pathos83 in it. Shells were falling in the fields on both sides of us. The great red sunset glowed in the west and the trees overhead cast an artistic84 gray green light upon the scene. The men were facing the sunset, and I told them as usual that there lay Canada. The last hymn85 was "Abide86 with Me", and the words, "Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes", were peculiarly touching87 in view of the fact that the working party was to start as soon as the service was ended. At Festubert our Cavalry88 Brigade, now deprived of their horses, joined us, and I remember one morning seeing Colonel, now General, Macdonell, coming out of the line at the head of his men. They were few in number and were very tired, for they had had a hard time and had lost many of their comrades. The Colonel, however, told them to whistle and keep step to the tune89, which they were doing with a gallantry which showed that, in spite of the loss of their horses, the spirit of the old squadron was still undaunted.
Our batteries round Le Touret were very heavily and systematically90 shelled, and of course rumour91 had it that there were spies in the neighbourhood. The French Police were searching for Germans in British uniforms, and everyone felt that some of the inhabitants might be housing emissaries from the German lines. Some said lights were seen flashing from farmhouses92; others averred93 that the French peasants signalled to the enemy by the way they ploughed their fields and by the colour of the horses used. In Belgium we were told that the arrangement of the arms of windmills gave away the location of our troops. At any rate everyone had a bad attack of spy-fever, and I did not escape it. One night about half past ten I was going down a dark road to get my letters from the post office, when an officer on a bicycle came up to me and, dismounting, asked me where a certain British Artillery Brigade was. I was not concerned with the number of the brigade, but I was horrified94 to hear the officer pronounce his "rs" in the back of his throat. Of course, when we are not at war with Germany, a man may pronounce his "rs" however he pleases, but when we are at war with the great guttural hordes95 of Teutons it is different. The moment I heard the sepulchral96 "r" I said, "This man is a German". He told me he had come from the Indian Army and had a message for the artillery brigade. I took him by subtlety97, thinking all was fair in war, and I asked him to come with me. I made for the billet of our signallers and told the sentry that the officer wanted a British brigade. At the same time I whispered to the man to call out the guard, because I thought the stranger was a spy.
The sentry went into the house, and in a few seconds eager Canadians with fixed98 bayonets came out of the building and surrounded the unfortunate officer. Canadians were always ready for a bit of sport. When I saw my man surrounded, I asked him for his pass. He appeared very much confused and said he had none, but had come from the Indian Army. What made us all the more suspicious was the fact that he displayed a squared map as an evidence of his official character. I told him that anybody could get a squared map. "Do you take me for a spy?" he said. I replied gently that we did, and that he would have to come to Headquarters and be identified. He had an ugly looking revolver in his belt, but he submitted very tamely to his temporary arrest. I was taking him off to our Headquarters, where strange officers were often brought for purposes of identification, when a young Highland Captain of diminutive99 stature100, but unbounded dignity, appeared on the scene with four patrol men. He told me that as he was patrolling the roads for the capture of spies, he would take over the custody101 of my victim. The Canadians were loath102 to lose their prey103. So we all followed down the road. After going a short distance, the signallers had to return to their quarters, much to my regret, for it seemed to me that the safety of the whole British Army depended on our capturing the spy, and I knew I could depend upon the Canadians. However I made up my mind that I would follow to the bitter end.
The Highlander28 put the officer between us and, followed by the four patrol men, we went off down a lonely road. The moon had now risen. After walking about half a mile we came to a large barn, outside of which stood a sentry. It was the billet of a battalion of Highlanders. I told the man privately104, that we had arrested the officer under suspicion of his being a spy, and if the sentry on duty should see him coming back along the road, he was to detain him and have him identified. As we walked along, a number of men who had been concealed105 in the ditches on each side of the road rose up and followed us. They were men of the patrol commanded by the young Highlander on the other side of our prisoner. It was a delightfully106 weird107 experience. There was the long quiet moonlit road and the desolate108 fields all around us. While I was talking to one of the men, the patrol officer, unknown to me, allowed the spy to go off on his wheel, and to my astonishment when I turned I saw him going off down the road as hard as he could. I asked the officer why he had let him go. He said he thought it was all right and the man would be looked after. Saying this, he called his patrol about him and marched back again. The thing made me very angry. It seemed to me that the whole war might depend on our capturing the spy. At least, I owed it to the British Army to do my best to be certain the man was all right before I let him go. So I continued to follow him by myself down the road. The next farm I came to was about a mile off. There I was halted by a sentry, and on telling my business I was shown into a large barn, where the sergeant109-major of a Scottish battalion got out of the straw and came to talk to me. He told me that an officer riding a wheel had passed sometime before, asking his way to a certain artillery brigade. I told the sergeant-major my suspicions and while we were talking, to our astonishment, the sentry announced that the officer, accompanied by a Black Watch despatch110 rider, had turned up again, having heard that the brigade he wanted was in the other direction.
The sergeant and I went out and challenged him and said that he had to come to the colonel and be identified. The colonel was in the back room of a little cottage on the other side of the road. I made my way through the garden and entered the house. The colonel, an oldish man, was sitting at a table. In front of him was an empty glass and an empty whisky bottle. It struck me from a superficial glance that the colonel was the only full thing in the room. He seemed surprised at having so late a visitor. I told him my suspicions. "Show the man in, Padré," he said, and I did.
The spy seemed worried and excited and his "rs" were more guttural than ever. The old Colonel, who had himself been in India, at once put the suspect through his facings in Hindustani. Then the Colonel came out to me, and taking me aside said, "It's all right, Padré, he can talk Hindustani. I never met a German who could do that." Though still not quite satisfied, I said "Good night," and went out into the garden to return home. Immediately the young despatch rider came up to me and said, "Who are you, who are stopping a British officer in the performance of his duty? I arrest you. You must come in to the Colonel and be identified." This was a turning of the tables with a vengeance111, and as I had recently laid stress on its being the duty of every officer to prove his identity whenever called upon, I had nothing to do but to go back into the presence of the Colonel and be questioned. I noticed this time that a full bottle of whiskey and another tumbler had been provided for the entertainment of the Indian Officer. The despatch rider saluted the Colonel and said, "I have brought in this officer, Sir, to be identified. He says he is a Canadian chaplain but I should like to make sure on the point." I stood there feeling rather disconcerted. The Colonel called to his adjutant who was sleeping in a bed in the next room. He came out in a not very agreeable frame of mind and began to ask me who I was. I immediately told my name, showed my identification disc and engraved112 silver cigarette case and some cablegrams that I had just received from home. The Colonel looked up with bleary eyes and said, "Shall I put him in the guardroom?" but the adjutant had been convinced by my papers that I was innocent and he said, "I think we can let him go, Sir." It was a great relief to me, because guard-rooms were not very clean. I was just making my way from the garden when out came the young despatch rider. I bore him no malice113 for his patriotic114 zeal115. I felt that his heart was in the right place, so I said to him, "You have taken the part of this unknown officer, and now that you are sure I am all right, may I ask you what you know about him?" "I don't know anything", he said, "only that I met him and he asked me the way to the Brigade, and as I was going there myself I told him I would act as his guide." "Well", I said, "we are told that there are spies in the neighbourhood reporting the location of our batteries to the Germans, so we ought to be very careful how we give these locations away." "I tell you what, Sir," he replied, "I'll go and examine his wheel and see what the make is; I know a good deal about the wheels used in the army." We went over to the wheel and by the aid of my flashlight he examined it thoroughly116 and then said, "This is not an English wheel, I have never seen one like it before. This wheel was never in use in our army." The despatch rider now got an attack of spy-fever. It was decided117 that he should ride on to the Brigade Headquarters and find out if an Indian officer was expected there. He promised to come back as soon as possible and meet me in the road. We trusted that the bottle of whiskey in the Colonel's billet would cause sufficient delay for this to be accomplished118. The night was cool and beautiful and the sense of an adventure added charm to the situation. I had not gone far down the road when to my horror I heard a wheel coming behind me, and turning, I saw my spy coming towards me as fast as he could. I was not of course going to let him get past. The added information as to the character of the wheel gave me even greater determination to see that everything was done to protect the army from the machinations of a German spy.
I stood in the road and stopped the wheel. The poor man had to dismount and walk beside me. I wished to delay him long enough for the despatch rider to return with his message from the Brigade. Our conversation was a trifle forced, and I remember thinking that if my friend was really a British officer he would not have submitted quite so tamely to the interference of a Padré. Then I looked at the revolver in his belt, and I thought that, if, on the other hand, he was a German spy he would probably use his weapon in that lonely road and get rid of the man who was impeding119 his movements. We went on till we came to the sentry whom I had warned at first. At once, we were challenged, "Halt, who are you?" and the suspected spy replied "Indian Army." But the sentry was not satisfied, and to my delight he said, "You will both have to come in and be identified". We were taken into the guardroom and told that we should have to stay there for the night. My friend got very restless and said it was too bad to be held up like this. I looked anxiously down the road to see if there were any signs of the returning despatch rider. The sentries120 were obdurate121 and said they wouldn't let us go till we could be identified in the morning. Then the officer requested that he might be sent to the Brigade under escort. The sergeant asked me if that would meet with my approval. I said, "Certainly", and so, turning out three members of the guard with fixed bayonets, they marched us off towards the Brigade. The spy had a man with a fixed bayonet on each side of him: they gave me only one. I felt that this was a slight upon my manhood, and asked why they did not put a soldier on each side of me too, as I was as good a man as the other. It was a queer procession in the moonlight. At last we came to the orchard in which stood the billet of the General commanding the Artillery Brigade. I was delighted to find that some Canadian Batteries were there, and told the men what my mission was. They instantly, as true Canadians, became fired with interest and spy-fever. When we got to the house I asked to see the General. He was asleep in a little room off the kitchen. I was shown in, and he lit a candle and proceeded to get up. I had never seen a general in bed before, so was much interested in discovering what he looked like and how he was dressed. I found that a general in war time goes to bed in his underclothes, like an ordinary private. The General got up and went outside and put the spy through a series of questions, but he did so in a very sleepy voice, and with a perfunctory manner which seemed to me to indicate that he was more concerned about getting back to bed than he was in saving the army from danger. He told the officer that it was too late then to carry on the business for which he had come, but that he would see about it in the morning. The spy with a guttural voice then said, "I suppose I may go, Sir?" and the General said, "Certainly." Quickly as possible, fearing a further arrest, the stranger went out, took his wheel, and sped down the road. When I went into the garden, I found a number of men from one of our ambulances. They had turned up with stolen rifles and were waiting with the keenest delight to join in "Canon Scott's spy hunt." Imagine therefore, their disappointment when the officer came out a free man, answered the sentry's challenge on the road, and disappeared in the distance.
On the following day, the French military police came to my billet and asked for particulars about the Indian officer. They told Murdoch MacDonald that they were on the lookout122 for a German spy who was reported to be going about through our lines dressed in a British uniform. He had been seen at an observation post, and was making enquiries which aroused suspicions. This of course made me more sorry than ever that I had allowed the spy to get through my fingers. Like the man the French police were after, the officer was fair, had a light moustache and was of good size and heavily built.
My adventures with my friend did not end there. When we had left Festubert and got to the neighbourhood of Bethune, I took two young privates one day to have lunch with me in a French hotel near the Square. We were just beginning our meal when to my astonishment the suspected spy, accompanied by a French interpreter, sat down at an opposite table. He looked towards me but made no sign of recognition—a circumstance which I regarded as being decidedly suspicious. I naturally did not look for any demonstration123 of affection from him, but I thought he might have shown, if he were an honest man, that he remembered one who had caused him so much inconvenience. Once more the call of duty came to my soul. I felt that this man had dodged124 the British authorities and was now giving his information to a French interpreter to transmit it at the earliest possible moment to the Germans. I told my young friends to carry on as if nothing had happened, and excusing myself, said I would come back in a few minutes. I went out and inquired my way to the Town Major's office. There, I stated the object of my journey and asked for two policemen to come back with me and mount guard till I identified a suspicious looking officer. I then returned and finished my lunch. When the officer and the interpreter at the conclusion of their meal went out into the passage, I followed them and asked for their identification. The officer made no attempt to disguise or check his temper. He said that there must be an end to this sort of work. But the arrival of the two policemen in the passage showed that he had to do what I asked him. This he did, and the interpreter also, and the police took their names and addresses. Then I let my friends go, and heard them depart into the street hurling125 denunciations and threats of vengeance upon my devoted126 and loyal head.
It was about a week or ten days afterwards that I was called into our own Brigadier's office. He held a bundle of letters in his hand stamped with all sorts of official seals. The gist127 of it all was that the G.O.C. of the Indian Division in France had reported to General Alderson the extraordinary and eccentric conduct of a Canadian Chaplain, who persisted in arresting a certain British officer whenever they happened to meet. He wound up with this cutting comment, "The conduct of this chaplain seems to fit him rather for a lunatic asylum128 than for the theatre of a great war." Of course explanations were sent back. It was explained to the General that reports had reached us of the presence in our lines of a German spy in British uniform, who from the description given, resembled the Indian officer in all particulars.
It is needless to say that every one was immensely amused at "the Canon's spy story," and I mentally resolved that I would be more careful in the future about being carried away by my suspicions. I told people however that I would rather run the risk of being laughed at over making a mistake than to let one real spy escape.
Festubert made a heavy toll129 upon our numbers, and we were not sorry when we were ordered out of the line and found ourselves quartered in the neighbourhood of Bethune. Bethune at that time was a delightful place. It was full of people. The shops were well provided with articles for sale, and a restaurant in the quaint Grande Place, with its Spanish tower and Spanish houses, was the common meeting ground of friends. The gardens behind private residences brought back memories of pre-war days. The church was a beautiful one, built in the 16th century. The colours of the windows were especially rich. It was always delightful to enter it and think how it had stood the shock and turmoil130 of the centuries.
One day when I was there the organ was being played most beautifully. Sitting next to me in a pew, was a Canadian Highlander clad in a very dirty uniform. He told me that a friend of his had been killed beside him drenching131 him in blood. The Highlander was the grandson of a British Prime Minister. We listened to the music till the recital132 was over, and then I went up to the gallery and made myself known to the organist. He was a delicate young fellow, quite blind, and was in a state of nervous excitement over his recent efforts. I made a bargain with him to give us a recital on the following evening. At the time appointed, therefore, I brought some of our men with me. The young organist met us at the church and I led him over to a monastery133 in which a British ambulance was making its headquarters. There, in the chapel134, the blind man poured out his soul in the strains of a most beautiful instrument. We sat entranced in the evening light. He transported us into another world. We forgot the shells, the mud, the darkness, the wounded men, the lonely graves, and the hideous135 fact of war. We wandered free and unanxious down the avenues of thought and emotion which were opened up before us by the genius of him whose eyes were shut to this world. It was with deep regret that, when the concert was over, we heard him close the keyboard. Three years later the organist was killed by a shell while he was sitting at his post in the church he loved so well and had never seen.
When we were at Bethune a very important event in my military career took place. In answer to repeated requests, Headquarters procured136 me a horse. I am told that the one sent to me came by mistake and was not that which they intended me to have. The one I was to have, I heard, was the traditional padré's horse, heavy, slow, unemotional, and with knees ready at all times to sink in prayer. The animal sent to me, however, was a high-spirited chestnut137 thoroughbred, very pretty, very lively and neck-reined. It had once belonged to an Indian general, and was partly Arab. Poor Dandy was my constant companion to the end. After the Armistice138, to prevent his being sold to the Belgian army, he was mercifully shot, by the orders of our A.D.V.S. Dandy certainly was a beauty, and his lively disposition139 made him interesting to ride. I was able now to do much more parish visiting, and I was rather amused at the way in which my mount was inspected by the different grooms140 in our units. I had to stand the fire of much criticism. Evil and covetous141 eyes were set upon Dandy. I was told he was "gone" in the knees. I was told he had a hump on the back—he had what is known as the "Jumper's bump." Men tickled142 his back and, because he wriggled143, told me he was "gone" in the kidneys. I was told he was no proper horse for a padré, but that a fair exchange was always open to me. I was offered many an old transport hack144 for Dandy, and once was even asked if I would change him for a pair of mules145. I took all the criticisms under consideration, and then when they were repeated I told the men that really I loved to ride a horse with a hump on its back. It was so biblical, just like riding a camel. As for bad kidneys, both Dandy and I were teetotallers and we could arrest disease by our temperance habits. The weakness of knees too was no objection in my eyes. In fact, I had so long, as a parson, sat over weak-kneed congregations that I felt quite at home sitting on a weak-kneed horse.
Poor dear old Dandy, many were the rides we had together. Many were the jumps we took. Many were the ditches we tumbled into. Many were the unseen barbed wires and overhanging telephone wires which we broke, you with your chest and I with my nose and forehead. Many were the risks we ran in front of batteries in action which neither of us had observed till we found ourselves deafened146 with a hideous explosion and wrapped in flame. I loved you dearly, Dandy, and I wish I could pull down your soft face towards mine once again, and talk of the times when you took me down Hill 63 and along Hyde Park corner at Ploegsteert. Had I not been wounded and sent back to England at the end of the war, I would have brought you home with me to show to my family—a friend that not merely uncomplainingly but cheerfully, with prancing147 feet and arching neck and well groomed148 skin, bore me safely through dangers and darkness, on crowded roads and untracked fields. What dances we have had together, Dandy, when I have got the bands to play a waltz and you have gone through the twists and turns of a performance in which you took an evident delight! I used to tell the men that Dandy and I always came home together. Sometimes I was on his back and sometimes he was on mine, but we always came home together.
A few days later my establishment was increased by the purchase of a well-bred little white fox-terrier. He rejoiced in the name of Philo and became my inseparable companion. The men called him my curate. Dandy, Philo and I made a family party which was bound together by very close ties of affection. Though none of us could speak the language of the others, yet the sympathy of each enabled us to understand and appreciate one another's opinions. I always knew what Dandy thought and what he would do. I always knew too what Philo was thinking about. Philo had a great horror of shells. I put this down to the fact that he was born at Beuvry, a place which had been long under shell-fire. When he heard a shell coming in his direction, Philo used to go to the door of the dugout and listen for the explosion, and then come back to me in a state of whining149 terror. He could not even stand the sound of our own guns. It made him run round and round barking and howling furiously.
It was while we were out in rest at Bethune that I was told I could go on a week's leave to London. I was glad of this, not only for the change of scene, but for the sake of getting new clothes. I awoke in the early morning and listened to the French guns pounding away wearily near Souchez. At noon I started with a staff officer in a motor for Boulogne. It was a lovely day, and as we sped down the road through little white unspoilt villages and saw peaceful fields once again, it seemed as if I were waking from a hideous dream. That evening we pulled in to Victoria Station, and heard the Westminster chimes ringing out half past eight.
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1
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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chillier
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| adj.寒冷的，冷得难受的( chilly的比较级 ) | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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bounteously
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| adv.慷慨地，丰富地 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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bugles
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| 妙脆角，一种类似薯片但做成尖角或喇叭状的零食； 号角( bugle的名词复数 )； 喇叭； 匍匐筋骨草； （装饰女服用的）柱状玻璃（或塑料）小珠 | |
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13
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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battalions
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| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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waggons
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| 四轮的运货马车( waggon的名词复数 )； 铁路货车； 小手推车 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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wholesomely
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| 卫生地，有益健康地 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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highlander
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| n.高地的人，苏格兰高地地区的人 | |
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testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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32
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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psalm
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| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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jealousies
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| n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 )；妒羡 | |
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abolition
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| n.废除，取消 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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45
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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50
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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51
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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52
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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infested
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| adj.为患的，大批滋生的（常与with搭配）v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的过去式和过去分词 )；遍布于 | |
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56
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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57
beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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58
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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censoring
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| 删剪（书籍、电影等中被认为犯忌、违反道德或政治上危险的内容）( censor的现在分词 ) | |
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63
forage
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| n.(牛马的)饲料，粮草；v.搜寻，翻寻 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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66
fermented
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| v.（使）发酵( ferment的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）激动；骚动；骚扰 | |
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manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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76
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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77
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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78
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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79
commodious
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| adj.宽敞的；使用方便的 | |
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80
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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81
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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82
underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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83
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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84
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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85
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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86
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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87
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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88
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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89
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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90
systematically
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| adv.有系统地 | |
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91
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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92
farmhouses
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| n.农舍，农场的主要住房( farmhouse的名词复数 ) | |
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93
averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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95
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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sepulchral
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| adj.坟墓的，阴深的 | |
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subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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99
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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100
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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101
custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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102
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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103
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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105
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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106
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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107
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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113
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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115
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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118
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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impeding
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| a.(尤指坏事)即将发生的，临近的 | |
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120
sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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121
obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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122
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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123
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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124
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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126
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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128
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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129
toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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130
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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131
drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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132
recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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133
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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134
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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135
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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136
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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137
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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138
armistice
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| n.休战，停战协定 | |
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139
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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140
grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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141
covetous
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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142
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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143
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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144
hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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145
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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deafened
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| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
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147
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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148
groomed
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| v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的过去式和过去分词 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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149
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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