The Romance of the Red Triangle Part 2

It will be noted that the items in this list are not trading goods to be sold at a profit, but excepting in the case of some of the billiard tables, are non-remunerative, and provided absolutely free for the use of the men serving overseas.

CHAPTER V

THE LADIES OF THE RED TRIANGLE

I have received Her Majesty's commands to convey to you an expression of the Queen's sincere thanks for the interesting information you have given regarding the work which is being done by the Young Men's Christian a.s.sociation among the men of the Army and Navy.

Her Majesty is much pleased with the specimens of writing-papers and envelopes, and publications, which you have sent for her acceptance.

Her Majesty feels sure that the useful work which is being carried on by the Young Men's Christian a.s.sociation in so many different centres is highly appreciated not only by the soldiers, but also by the community.--HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Y.M.C.A. IN A RUINED PARISH HALL IN FLANDERS, JUNE, 1916]

BEFORE the war it was one of our stock sayings that the Y.M.C.A. was a work 'for young men by young men,' and one must recognise the fact that the man who is a _man_--virile, strong, athletic--is the one to whose leadership men will most readily respond. But in the early days of the war most of our young male workers joined up; whether we liked it or not we had to get the help of ladies, and our more enterprising leaders felt that after all there were some things in Y.M.C.A. hut work ladies could do almost as well as men. Things have moved since then, and now we know that much of the work can be done infinitely better by women. In many cases women have been entrusted with the actual leadership of huts, and have carried through the duties magnificently. The Red Triangle has given the woman her niche in the Y.M.C.A., and for the great programme that awaits us after the war her help will be indispensable. It has, moreover, given the woman who had home claims an opportunity of doing war work that really counts, in her spare time. The Queen and Queen Alexandra have been graciously interested in the work of the ladies of the Red Triangle, and many of the ladies of the Royal House have rendered conspicuous personal service, amongst whom might be mentioned H.R.H. Princess Christian, H.R.H. Princess Louise, H.R.H. Princess Patricia of Connaught, and H.H. Princess Marie Louise, whilst H.H.

Princess Helena Victoria as Lady President has given time and strength to the work without reserve, and we owe very much to her. In the camps, ladies have given the home touch that means so much to the men--games, music, decorations, and flowers have come within their domain; they have managed the libraries, and have in most cases taken full responsibility for the refreshment department. Their personal influence has been invaluable. We remember visiting a camp somewhere in France. It seemed to us the roughest camp we had ever seen. The leader told us of an encounter he had with one of the worst of the men on the occasion of his first visit to the place. He had just got his tent erected, and the man chancing to see it asked what it was. When told that it was the Y.M.C.A., he replied, 'You b---- men are just what we d---- men b---- well want,' and that was the language of the camp. Eighteen months later we were there again and the camp was like another place, so great was the change for the better. The C.O. told us he attributed that change almost entirely to the ladies of the Red Triangle. It so happened that one of the ladies committed an unpardonable military offence. She returned to England two or three days before her permit expired. Later on, application was made in the usual way for the renewal of her permit.

The General concerned, who is no longer in France, returned the application with the words written across it over his initials--'Keep this woman out.' The Base Commandant sent it in again having written on it--'Talk about keeping this woman out, she is of more value to me than truckloads of parsons and chaplains!' That was his way of putting it, not ours. We have the greatest possible admiration for the work of the chaplains at the Front. There is no finer body of men on active service to-day, and it is a privilege we greatly esteem to be permitted to co-operate with them and to be of some service to them in their great work.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BAPAUME-CAMBRAI ROAD, WITH TREES ALL CUT DOWN BY THE GERMANS]

The ladies have always been ready to share the risks with the men, and there are quite a number who have made the supreme sacrifice, including Miss Smallpage, killed by shrapnel in one of our munition huts in England; Miss Betty Stevenson, killed in an air attack in France; Miss Edith Howe, who died of cerebro-spinal meningitis; and Miss Lee, who lost her life in a fire in one of the huts on Salisbury Plain.

In one of the great bases in France there is a small camp in which at one time there were boys only. They were too young to fight, their job day by day was the prosaic one of filling up petrol cans. One of these little chaps had badly hurt his hand, and it seemed to him the natural thing to go for sympathy and help to the lady of the Red Triangle. A brief examination convinced her that the damage was serious, and she bade him go to the doctor, whose tent was just across the way. Very grudgingly he trudged across to the doctor, but a few minutes later returned with the request that she would look at the damaged hand and see if the doctor had attended to it properly. She replied that it would never do to interfere with the doctor's work and, moreover, the doctor had no doubt done it far better than she could have done. Five times the lad came back with the request, 'O Missis! do look at my hand and see if he's done it right.' The fifth time he brought with him as an ally the Y.M.C.A. secretary in charge, who said, 'If I were you, Miss, I would look at his hand. The little chap will never be happy until you do.' Then she undid the bandages, looked at the dressing, and bandaging it up again said, 'There, it's just as I told you; the doctor has done it far better than I could; run away and be quite happy about it!' He went away, but returned again a few minutes later, and that time his eyes were full of tears as he cried, 'O Missis! I did think you'd have kissed me when you saw how bad it was,' and, like the good woman she was, she kissed him as his mother would have done. Let no one think that's what the ladies of the Red Triangle usually do, for it's not, and yet in that simple story you have the whole secret of the success of the war work of the Y.M.C.A. Time, and time again, one has been through every base camp in France, and has traversed the whole British line in France and Flanders, and wherever one has gone one has found the men yearning for sympathy and longing for home. Not that they want to return home until this fight ends in victory, for out there they have learned what war means; they see it robbed of its romance, and they are determined to see it through; they fight that this war may end war.

With unfailing loyalty to the high aims of the Red Triangle and with conspicuous ability ladies have served the Y.M.C.A., and through the a.s.sociation the men of His Majesty's Forces and the munition workers, in all parts of the United Kingdom, in France, and in every part of the Empire, and have won for themselves a permanent place in the movement, whatever its future may be.

CHAPTER VI

'GUNGA DIN' OF THE RED TRIANGLE

'You and your a.s.sociation seem to me to be truly hitting the nail on the head, and working for the good of our soldier-lads, one and all. I have watched the Y.M.C.A. procedure at many camps, and have found it exactly adapted to the wants of large numbers of young men taken temporarily away from their homes and normal a.s.sociations.'--GENERAL SIR IAN HAMILTON.

ONE of the most striking of Kipling's characters was Gunga Din, the Indian water-carrier. He was not a fighting man, but when fighting was taking place he was in the thick of it, risking his life that he might carry water to slake the thirst of the fighting man. 'Gunga Din' was the appropriate name given to one of our leaders in France by a British Tommy. Those who do not know are sometimes inclined to sneer at the Y.M.C.A. man for having a 'cushy' job, but it is hard work from start to finish. His job is never done and very often is attended with considerable risk. His work may carry him right into the front line trenches and though it does not take him 'over the top,' yet, unlike the soldier, he has not the privilege of hitting back. His day's work will vary according to the camp. In all probability he will have to be up early in the morning, to get the coffee ready. The hut must be cleaned, and there will be a lot of canteen work to be done. The buying will occupy some time, and then there will be the evening programme to arrange and carry through. He must maintain personal touch with the men using the hut, so that the ideal leader must be half a dozen men rolled into one.

Our greatest difficulty during the war has been that of getting a sufficiency of workers of the right type. Every male worker is registered with the Director of Recruiting, and we are unable to recruit new men cla.s.sified A between the ages of 18 and 52, or 18 and 45 for service overseas.

Twelve members of the Y.M.C.A. have won the Victoria Cross, 3 the D.S.O., 33 the M.C., 25 the D.C.M., and 53 the M.M., whilst registered at Headquarters are the names of 1223 who have made the supreme sacrifice. We think of many whose war work for the Y.M.C.A. has earned the t.i.tle of 'Gunga Din,' as, for example, the young leader of the New Zealand work in France. He looks a boy, but is a genius for organising, and the pioneer of the work of the Red Triangle in advanced positions.

Another man who has the instincts of the pioneer is the leader of the Australian workers in Egypt and Palestine, and yet another, a well-known Y.M.C.A. worker who, after doing good service in England in the early days of the war, went to represent Headquarters in Egypt. Torpedoed _en route_ he took up his new work with characteristic enthusiasm and made good. Hundreds have rendered equally valuable service, so that it would be invidious to mention names.

In the great retreat, it was the D.A.Q.M.G. of the ---- Corps who asked us to open up a Stragglers' Post at Westoutre. 'You are the people who can cheer up the men,' said he; 'I want you to get hold of the stragglers before they become deserters.' It was 'Gunga Din' he needed, but this time with cocoa-urn instead of water-bottle, and it was only an old bank to which our workers fixed their Red Triangle, but it was just what was needed. A bursting sh.e.l.l forced them to quit, but half an hour later they had opened up again in the village shop, opposite the church, and the mayor thanked them later on for their successful efforts.

Our officers' hut at Romerin was set on fire by a sh.e.l.l; sh.e.l.ls were falling fast, and the larger hut soon became untenable, but the Y.M.C.A.

man was running his show in the open under a tree, and was as busy as ever. The ubiquitous 'Ford' did its bit, and its load would sometimes consist of the Divisional Secretary himself, one or two other workers or Belgian refugees, a big caterer's boiler, a tea-urn, together with cases of biscuits and cigarettes. Thus equipped, it would proceed to some advanced dressing-station. Sometimes there would only be a sergeant and orderlies in charge, heroically doing their best to help the wounded, and the mere presence of a man like one of our secretaries gave them confidence, whilst the steaming hot drinks he soon had ready gave new courage to the wounded men who thronged the C.C.S. A great work of the 'Gunga Din' type was done on the Nieppe-Bailleul road during the retreat. What an amazing scene it must have been; an endless stream of refugees and wounded; units lost; batteries firing; men who had been for days without food, moving about like ghosts and digging themselves in at the side of the road. The Huns were only about eight hundred yards further along the road, and our soldiers fired as they walked. For three nights none of our workers even thought of going to bed; they stood by with cars ready to help where and how they were most needed, and gave help to soldiers and refugees alike. At dressing and casualty clearing stations they gave emergency help. At Remy, for instance, one of our men was told off to undress the wounded and rig them out in new pyjamas, whilst another made himself useful in cleaning the floors. Hot drinks were given out freely in all these centres just behind the line.

Following the British victory at Messines on June 7, 1917, a Leeds minister serving on the staff of the Y.M.C.A. wrote home describing the work for the walking wounded as he had seen it:--

'It was about three o'clock in the morning when the signal to advance was given, and the boys went over the parapet. About two hours later the wounded began to arrive at our hospital in ambulance vans. It had been previously arranged that only as far as possible walking cases--men slightly wounded--should be dealt with at our station, and the expeditious and efficient way in which their wounds were attended to reflected great credit on the medical staff. As soon as they left the dressing-room they were pa.s.sed on to our Y.M.C.A., where we supplied them with various kinds of refreshments free. It was my great privilege to serve the first patient, who had a broken arm, with a freshly-made cup of tea and a sandwich, and never shall I forget his look and words of appreciation. Some were too ill to eat anything for a time, especially those who had been ga.s.sed or were suffering from sh.e.l.l-shock, but they were very glad of a seat on the gra.s.s in the shade of our tent. Some were so badly wounded that they were unable to speak, while others were half deaf and dumb as the result of shock. It was pathetic to see such men scribbling their request for a drink on a piece of paper. All were loud in their praise of the Y.M.C.A. and many were quite overcome when they realised that the tea, lemonade, cigarettes, and various kinds of eatables were provided free. One Scottish New Zealander, whose father is a well-known seed merchant in Edinburgh, declared that the Y.M.C.A.

was the greatest thing in the war. In addition to attending to the needs of the "inner man"--and some of them we had to feed like babies, as both hands were wounded--we wrote letters and field cards for them, and tried in every possible way to add to their comfort. The spirit manifested by the majority of them was simply splendid, and scarcely ever did they refer to their own suffering and hardships.'

CHAPTER VII

IN THE TRAIL OF THE HUN

It has given me great pleasure to learn of the development of the Y.M.C.A. work in France and England during the last six months. In particular I am very glad to hear of the successful growth of the experiment begun at Aire.

No one can be long in this country without realising the immense value of your organisation, and the constant extension of your activities itself testifies to the high regard in which it is held by our soldiers.--FIELD-MARSHAL SIR DOUGLAS HAIG.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RED TRIANGLE IN THE SUPPORT TRENCHES]

THE history of the British Empire has been written over again, and written in blood, in the valleys of the Somme, the Ancre, and the Scarpe. Tens of thousands of our n.o.blest and best lie buried in these valleys or on the tableland of Peronne, situated between the insignificant rivers that have within the past few months earned a world-wide notoriety. No one can visit a modern battlefield without realising something of the appalling waste of war. Towns and villages have been blotted out of existence, or are marked to-day by a few unrecognisable ruins. Thanks to the efficiency of British organisation, excellent roads were quickly established right through the stricken district, and it was impossible to traverse any of them without marvelling at the obstacles overcome and the successes gained. The road, for instance, from Albert to Bapaume, through Pozieres, Le Sars, and Warlincourt, pa.s.sing close by Contalmaison and Martincourt, was contested almost yard by yard, and the same thing may be said of the road that leads along the bank of the Ancre from Albert past the Leipzig Redoubt, near Thiepval and Beaumont Hamel, through Achiet-le-Grand to Bapaume, or the one from Peronne through Le Transloy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'GEORGE WILLIAMS HOUSE' IN THE FRONT TRENCHES]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A HALF-WAY HOUSE TO THE TRENCHES]

It was in December 1916 that I paid my first visit to the valley of the Somme. The scene was dreary beyond description. Many villages known to us by name as the scenes of desperate fighting were a name only. Hardly a vestige of a house or cottage remained where many had been before the war. Here and there one could see the entrance to a cellar; the charred stump of a strafed tree; the remains of a garden; or a bit of a cemetery. Everything else was churned up into the most appalling mud.

One day I had tea with an Army commander who has done great things since then, and he showed me a series of photographs--the most interesting I have ever seen, which were taken the day before my visit, by our airmen, over the German lines. For seventeen and a half miles back, the enemy, with infinite care and patience, had constructed trenches, 'and,' said the Commander, 'every time we destroy his front line trench he constructs another one in the rear.' 'But,' I cried, 'if this kind of thing goes on, and unless the unexpected happens, the war must surely continue indefinitely.' His only reply was, 'Is it not always the unexpected that happens in war?' I was back again in Picardy in the summer of 1917, and the unexpected had happened. The whole of the seventeen and a half miles of trenches were in the hands of the British!

The enemy had retired to the much advertised 'Hindenburg Line,' and leaving nothing to chance, was tirelessly, ceaselessly ma.s.sing and training his men, getting together huge reserves of munitions, husbanding his resources in every possible way, and preparing, always preparing day and night for his next great move. Meanwhile, Italy's defences had to be strengthened by troops we could ill-afford to spare from our Western front, and Russia, in loyalty to whom we first entered the war, failed us altogether, German intrigue being the underlying cause in each case. In his great advance in March and April 1918 he did not achieve all he set out to do by any means, but his gains were enormous. It makes one sad to think of the territory we had temporarily to relinquish to the Hun in Picardy, even though the country itself was not of any intrinsic value. The land is desolate, and the enemy ruined every village and hamlet, every farm and cottage, before his retreat.

Ninety-three Red Triangle centres--huts, marquees, cellars, dug-outs, and 'strafed' houses had to be abandoned in Picardy alone--most of them destroyed before they fell into the hands of the Germans.

During the first visit to the battlefields of the Somme in the winter of 1916, the outstanding feature of the landscape was the mud and the general desolation. In the summer of 1917 the scenes of desolation were as great as ever, but there was a difference--the roads were in excellent condition and bridges had been replaced. There were sh.e.l.l-holes everywhere and the countryside was strewn with dud sh.e.l.ls; barbed wire entanglements; with here and there a stranded tank that had had to be abandoned in the mud; the remains of trenches and dug-outs or the cages in which the Huns had collected their British prisoners. There were no domestic animals to be seen, and no civilians. The whole district from Albert to Peronne, to Bapaume or to Arras, was one huge cemetery, and one saw side by side the elaborate cross that marked the burying place of German dead, the smaller cross with the tricolour on it, that marked the last resting-place of the soldier of France, and everywhere for miles and miles could be seen the little plain brown crosses of wood, that marked the spot where lay our own loved dead. We climbed to the top of the famous b.u.t.te of Warlincourt that so often changed hands in the course of desperate fighting, and there on the top were those little brown crosses. We stood at the edge of the vast crater of La Boiselle that inaugurated the first battle of the Somme and saw in its depths several of those little symbols of our Christian faith, but looking away across the desolation of the battlefield one marvelled at the efforts of nature to hide up the ravages of war. There were the most glorious ma.s.ses of colour everywhere--the colour given by the wild flowers of the battlefields. One felt one had never seen more vivid blue than that of the acres of cornflowers which rivalled the hues of the gentian of the Alps. It may have been imagination, but looking out from the b.u.t.te of Warlincourt over miles of poppies, one felt one had never seen such vivid red, and instinctively those words came into one's mind:

'O Cross that liftest up my head, I dare not seek to fly from thee; I lay in dust life's glory dead, And from the ground there blossoms red, Life that shall endless be.'

The wild flowers of Picardy have bloomed over British graves again in the summer of 1918, though German, not British, eyes saw them during the early months, but those flowers speak of eternal hope, and tell us that if we but do our part, the sacrifice of our bravest and best will not have been made in vain.

Amid the ruins of Picardy the Y.M.C.A. did some of its best work. Lord Derby spoke of the a.s.sociation as 'essential in peace time, indispensable in war time,' and never was the a.s.sociation more indispensable than during those terrible days of the German advance in 1918. Amid the ever-changing scenes of war it has been one of the forces working for reconstruction. We mourn the loss of huts and Red Triangle centres that have cost money, and on which labour has been lavished. Not much to look at many of these places, and yet to those who knew them they possessed an indescribable charm and fascination. It was only a little marquee, for instance, that formed the Headquarters of the Red Triangle at Henin in 1917, only a couple of padres, one Church of England and one a Free Churchman there to represent the Y.M.C.A., but the whole story is a romance. Whilst we were sharing their lunch of bully beef and potatoes, bread, biscuits, and coffee, a 'strafe' began.

The British artillery, half a mile away, were pouring lead into the Hun lines. Fritz soon replied, and things became lively. A sh.e.l.l burst near us, but our padres took no notice of it, and seemed to regard a little incident of that kind as a matter of course. Another sh.e.l.l burst on the cross-roads we had just traversed. It was here we had our first glimpse of the Hindenburg Line with Crucifix Corner in the foreground. Whilst we were still at lunch the Germans began to throw over some of their heavy stuff in the direction of Monchy, which was not far away. The British camp at Henin had been heavily bombarded a few days before our visit, and the troops quite properly had to run like rabbits to their burrows.

The last to take refuge in the dug-outs were our two padres, who with a keen and commendable sense of duty had waited to gather up the cash before taking refuge from the sh.e.l.ls. One of the leaders gives the following graphic story of his experiences in the Retreat:--

'On the first day of the offensive we were wakened by terrific drum fire to the north, but on our own immediate stretch of front, the firing was not so severe. There was therefore no immediate need for evacuation.

During that day the hut work went on as usual, but few men appeared, as everybody was "standing to." Liquid nourishment of the Y.M.C.A. type was rather at a discount. We finished serving at a somewhat late hour, and deemed it advisable to sleep in the dug-out, as a few sh.e.l.ls had begun to sing overhead. Early the next morning we were awakened by the sound of many men on the move. More and still more French troops were arriving, and that day we had to speak more French than English. Towards evening uncomfortable reports began to arrive that the Germans had several places behind us, some in the immediate rear. "Les avions Boche," about which the Frenchmen were using "polite" phrases all day, were continually overhead, and having reported the movement of troops on the roads, sh.e.l.l-fire began to increase in intensity. Decidedly, it was "getting warm." Lieutenant-Colonel ---- of the R.A.M.C. and the Medical Staff with whom I had had the privilege of messing for some time were very forcible in their advice to me to evacuate with the orderlies.

They were living in a sh.e.l.l-proof dug-out, whereas we had no possible defence against a direct hit from any kind of sh.e.l.l.

'Several batteries of artillery having been withdrawn from forward positions, and posted near us, were making sleep impossible and drawing the enemy's fire. It was quite impossible to obtain transport of any kind for my stores, so I gave what remained to the R.A.M.C. for walking wounded cases, of which I had supplied several during the day.