From Aldershot to Pretoria Part 14

'He is not a picturesque figure, the orderly, as we know him. We have not the trim, well-nourished army man, but we have recruited from the St. John Ambulance men, who are drawn, in this particular instance, from the mill hands of a northern town. They were not very strong to start with, and the poor fellows are ghastly now.

There is none of the dash and glory of war about the sallow, tired men in the dingy khaki suits--which, for the sake of the public health, we will hope may never see England again. And yet they are patriots, these men; for many of them have accepted a smaller wage in order to take on these arduous duties, and they are facing danger for twelve hours of the twenty-four, just as real and much more repulsive than the scout who rides up to the strange kopje, or the gunner, who stands to his gun with a pom-pom quacking at him from the hill.

'Let our statistics speak for themselves; and we make no claim to be more long-suffering than our neighbours. We have three on the staff (Mr. Gibbs, Mr. Scharlieb, and myself). Four started, but one left us early in the proceedings. We have had six nurses, five dressers, one wardmaster, one washerman, and eighteen orderlies, or thirty-two in all, who actually came in contact with the sick. Out of the six nurses, one has died and three others have had enteric.

Of the five dressers, two have had severe enteric. The wardmaster has spent a fortnight in bed with veldt sores. The washerman has enteric. Of the eighteen orderlies, one is dead, and eight others are down with enteric. So that out of a total of thirty-four we have had seventeen severe casualties--fifty per cent.--in nine weeks. Two are dead, and the rest incapacitated for the campaign, since a man whose heart has been cooked by a temperature over 103 degrees is not likely to do hard work for another three months. If the war lasts nine more weeks, it will be interesting to see how many are left of the original personnel. When the scouts and the Lancers and the other picturesque people ride in procession through London, have a thought for the sallow orderly, who has also given of his best for his country. He is not a fancy man--you do not find them in enteric wards--but for solid work and quiet courage you will not beat him in all that gallant army.'

Dr. Conan Doyle has told the story of the hospital orderly, but who shall tell the story of the doctor and the hospital nurse. In many cases they have laid down their lives for the men, and all have worked with a devotion that has seemed well-nigh super-human. But a medical staff sufficient for two army corps was altogether insufficient to supply the needs of an army of 200,000 and fight an epidemic of terrible severity.

They did their best. Some person the country will blame, but to these who so n.o.bly worked and endured the country will say, 'Well done!'

=Terrible Incidents during the Epidemic.=

Tales of horror crowd upon one; stories of men in delirium, wandering about the camp at night; stories of living men in the agonies of disease, with dead men lying on either side; stories of men themselves hardly able to crawl about, turning out of bed to nurse their comrades because there was no one else to do it.

'Why do you let 'em die?' asked a young soldier by way of a grim joke, pointing to two dead soldiers close to him, while he himself was suffering from enteric. 'Why don't you look after 'em better?'

'What can I do? I know nothing about nursing!' was the sad reply.

Just so! That was the difficulty--there was no one to prevent them dying. How many might have been saved if such had been the case!

It is too early to tell yet in detail the story of Christian work in connection with this epidemic. Many of the chaplains had left for the front before it broke out in its intensity, and we have as yet only fragmentary evidence as to the work done by those left upon the spot. We have not the slightest doubt that one and all did their work with the devotion we should expect from such men. We hear of Christian soldiers who bore splendid witness for Christ in the hospitals, and who were the means of leading their comrades to the Saviour in the midst of their sickness, and for such stories we thank G.o.d.

=Christian Work in the Fever Hospitals.=

We close this chapter with an extract from a letter from the Rev. Robert McClelland, Presbyterian Chaplain 1st battalion Cameron Highlanders, published in _St. Andrew_, and sent us by the courtesy of the Rev. Dr.

Theodore Marshall. It is an eloquent testimony to the value of hospital work, and gives us a glimpse of what was done at Bloemfontein:--

'When we reached Bloemfontein we found a dozen large hospitals all as full as they could hold, and at the cemetery gate it was solemn and painful to see many funerals outside the gate waiting entrance to the house of the dead. I was told that an Episcopal clergyman was told off at the cemetery for the sad but necessary work of Christian interment.

You will ask, why this great sickness and mortality? The water, on the whole, is bad (sometimes absolutely vile), and our ma.s.ses of soldiers are not so careful about what they eat and drink as they should be in a trying climate, scorching sun by day and white frost by night. Dysentery and enteric fever are the worst. Here is the minister's n.o.blest vocation, and we could take a dozen Father Damiens for this grand work.

When the fever runs high, or the strength gets wasted and the heart goes down, a pleasant smile, a kind word, a verse of Scripture, a brief prayer, goes a long way to revive the drooping spirits. I record my solemn conviction that hospital work, rightly done, is by far and away the most needful and the most acceptable of the chaplain's work. But, of course, like the doctors at the base, we are all wanting to the front to see the "pride, pomp, and circ.u.mstance of glorious war," while the brave fellows battling with fever, sickness, and wounds in the hospital are fighting the stiffest fight of all. And yet there is work for us on the march and at the front, too. To make yourself a friend and brother, to seek out and comfort the exhausted and ailing, to speak a word in season to the weary, to preach "the glorious Gospel of the blessed G.o.d" as opportunity offers--this is a task worthy of the highest powers and greatest gifts. After being nearly four months on the field, I do not regret the great sacrifices made in going there.'

Chapter XII

ON TO PRETORIA

The march from Bloemfontein to Pretoria was one never to be forgotten.

It taxed the strength of the strongest. There was fighting most of the way, and many a soldier who started full of hope never reached the end.

The first stage was from Bloemfontein to Kroonstadt.

Mr. W.K. Glover, of the S.C.A., arrived at Kroonstadt in company with Mr. D.A. Black, but there was taken ill and compelled to rest. The Rev.

T.F. Falkner and the Rev. E.P. Lowry marched nearly the whole way to Kroonstadt with the troops, and the latter speaks of it as the most trying march of the whole campaign. Opportunities for Christian work, with the exception of the hearty handshake or the whispered prayer, were but few, though during the pauses at Brandfort and at Kroonstadt several successful services were held.

A new name now appears on the line of march--that of the Rev. W.G. Lane, chaplain to the second Canadian contingent. He accompanied the Canadian Forces as Chaplain-Captain, and had the spiritual charge of all Protestants except those of the Episcopal Church.

=The March to Pretoria.=

We have, however, our fullest account of Christian work on the line of march from the pen of the Rev. Frank Edwards, the acting Wesleyan chaplain attached to the South Wales Borderers. He came out late in the war at his own charges to preach to the Welsh soldiers in their own language, and only overtook Lord Roberts at Brandfort. He shows us in vivid outline the sort of work our chaplains did between Bloemfontein and Pretoria.

'And now for the regular routine of "life on the march." We rise at 4 a.m. in the dark and cold, breakfast hastily on biscuit and tea made of very doubtful water, stand s.h.i.+vering in the piercing cold of dawn while troops are paraded, then start on our way long before the sun rises to warm our frozen frames. We march an hour and rest ten minutes--the hour is very long, the ten minutes very short.

=South African Dust.=

'The marching would be tolerable were it not for the heat and dust, the latter lying in some places quite nine inches deep, rising in clouds. It fills your eyes, nostrils, mouth and throat, causing one's lips to crack and bringing on an intolerable thirst, which makes it impossible for the men to be very fastidious, or even prudent with regard to the quality or source of the water which they greedily drink. At night when we reach our camping-ground our first thought is of our great-coats, for we are bathed in perspiration, and as the sun goes down about 5.30, night immediately following without any twilight, the intense heat of the almost tropical day is changed in a few minutes into the bitter cold of what might almost be called, from its length and severity, an Arctic night.

'At the Zand River I saw my first fight. That morning, as the troops were drawn up in marching order, the ominous command was given, "Charge magazines," and every man knew that something was about to happen, and a murmur ran along the ranks. After an hour's march we came in sight of the Zand River, with its kopjes on the farther side. As our battalion came in view of the river we saw the enemy's guns flas.h.i.+ng on the distant kopjes, and showers of sh.e.l.ls fell on this side the river into the trees in our front. On our right some mounted infantry were lying behind a kopje, and nothing could be more magnificent than to see the volleying sh.e.l.ls burst in a successive line along the ridge of their sheltering kopje. At the edge of the wood we were halted and ordered to lie down; as the artillery dashed by us to the front, where they were soon busily pounding the Boer position, "Advance!" our Colonel cried. Up we arose, marched through the trees down into the river-bed, and there we lay while the sh.e.l.ls screamed over us.

'The first sh.e.l.l that came screaming--I can use no better term--towards us seemed to cause a cold feeling inside, and I felt as though my last hour had come; but that soon pa.s.sed, and I became so accustomed to them that I found myself speculating as to where they would burst. While we lay in the river-bed, one monster burst with a roar like thunder upon the bank behind, shaking the ground like an earthquake.

'Our rest here was the calm before the storm, and as we awaited the word to advance into the fight that was raging overhead, I had an opportunity of studying the faces of the soldiers who were going, perhaps, to death.

Some were pale with excitement, and their eyes flashed as they clutched their rifles and compressed their lips. Others laughed wildly, another was hungrily gnawing a hard biscuit, while many were smoking furiously.

A few appeared quite indifferent, and might have been awaiting the order for a march. The officers were splendidly cool, and gave their orders as clearly and calmly as on parade.

=On the Firing Line.=

'"Advance!" was again the cry, and up the banks we went and into the trees on the further side. Here we saw the effect of the sh.e.l.l fire and war upon the battle plain. Our batteries were busily engaged about two hundred yards away, and the death-dealing missiles of friend and foe flew mercilessly about. As we were likely to remain in the tree shelter for a while, I strolled out as far as the batteries, for I wished to have a better view of the Boer position; but here the sh.e.l.ls were falling fast between the guns, and one poor gunner was cruelly mutilated by a bursting sh.e.l.l, his dead body presenting a ghastly sight.

'I went back, and met the General and some of his staff inspecting the Boer position with a huge telescope. I had a good look, and clearly saw our sh.e.l.ls burst in the embrasure of a gun, which was hurriedly taken away.

'Just then the General wanted to send a message, but had no available messenger. Saluting, I asked that I might be sent. He gave me the message, and springing on a horse which a servant held near, I galloped away. It was a strange experience that entry into the fire-zone, but I forgot all fear in the fight, and delivered my message. I returned to the General, who thanked me for my promptness.

'Our line had meanwhile advanced, and it was grand to see the steadiness of our men. Though bullets spat viciously in the sand before, between, and behind them, not a man flinched, but went steadily on to the heights beyond. I asked the General to send me with another order, which he wished taken to a half battalion some distance ahead, but as he was about to do so, he saw the cross upon my collar, and asked me if I was not a chaplain. I replied in the affirmative, and he inquired where my red cross armlet was. I told him I did not possess one, and was told that I must get one at once. The General then told me he was very sorry, but he could not use me again, as I was a non-combatant, and if he availed himself of my services, he would be infringing the Geneva Convention; while, on the other hand, if the Boers captured me, I should be shot.

='I was Thinking of the Last Verses of the Twenty-third Psalm.'=

'One incident which occurred during the day made a deep impression upon me. While in the river drift, on the point of moving into the thick of the fight and fire, I observed a soldier thoughtfully leaning upon his elbow, and was moved to ask him what his thoughts were at that moment.

Lifting his eyes steadfastly to mine, he replied, "I was thinking, sir, of the last verses of the twenty-third Psalm"; and as he spoke I knew I was face to face with a man for whom death had no terrors, one who was looking for the crown of life. It was a word in season, and was very helpful.

'We encamped that night upon the heights lately occupied by the enemy.

Friday was taken up with another tedious march upon Kroonstadt, and on Sat.u.r.day we advanced in fighting formation upon that place, momentarily expecting to meet the Boers, whom our scouts reported entrenched in position some miles this side the town. However, we found they had gone, and Kroonstadt was entered about mid-day, and we encamped outside.

'The next day being Sunday, my first thought was to make arrangement for services. I interviewed the General, and he allowed me to fix my own time--an hour later than the Church of England parade--in order that the men of the 14th Brigade might be able to come down. On Sunday morning I held my first parade service with my regiment. There was a splendid attendance--men of the Borderers, Ches.h.i.+res, Lancs, Engineers, and many from the other Brigade.

=A Service on the Veldt.=

'At the close of the morning service, after a conversation among themselves, several stepped out and asked for an evening service. I had not intended holding one, as I thought they had been marching for weeks and were tired and weary, and had clothes to wash and mend, and this might be their only opportunity for weeks, perhaps; so I asked that all who wished for an evening service would put up their hands. Every man did so, and the Colonel was only too glad to arrange it for me. That evening, half an hour after the time for tea, we met again on the open veldt, in front of our lines, and we had a splendid muster--more than the morning. The hymns went splendidly. Two soldiers led in prayer--short and very earnest--then we sang and prayed. Two addresses by two more soldiers--straight and good and to the point--addresses which had a deep effect upon all. Another hymn, then I spoke to them about the "Standard of Jesus," and we felt the power of the presence of G.o.d. Kneeling on the veldt, man after man broke down. Many openly confessed their sin, others rejoiced in true Methodist style. Even then they were not satisfied; a prayer-meeting was asked for and all stayed.

It was truly a grand prayer-meeting. Prayers and hymns followed free and fast, and many at the close, as they pressed forward to shake hands with me and thank me for coming, said it was one of the happiest Sundays of their life. "More like a Sunday at home sir, than any we have had out here; we did not know what Sunday was before." Many found peace with G.o.d that night and determined to lead a new life.

'That night I got permission to have hymns sung in the lines, and you should have heard the Welsh hymns as they rose and fell in the night air. Men crowded from all parts. Officers and men jostled in the crowding ring while the sweet melodies and beautiful harmonies thrilled every soul. It was a happy ending to a happy day. The Colonel has asked me to arrange for this hymn-singing every Sunday night, for he says it is very beautiful, and not only is it highly appreciated by the men, but it has a beneficial influence on them.