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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:18 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:18 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11211-0.txt b/11211-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b48b922 --- /dev/null +++ b/11211-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8300 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11211 *** + +A MINSTREL IN FRANCE + +BY + +HARRY LAUDER + + +[ILLUSTRATION: _frontispiece_ Harry Lauder and his son, Captain John +Lauder. (see Lauder01.jpg)] + + +TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED SON +CAPTAIN JOHN LAUDER + +First 8th, Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders +Killed in France, December 28, 1916 + +Oh, there's sometimes I am lonely +And I'm weary a' the day +To see the face and clasp the hand +Of him who is away. +The only one God gave me, +My one and only joy, +My life and love were centered on +My one and only boy. + +I saw him in his infant days +Grow up from year to year, +That he would some day be a man +I never had a fear. +His mother watched his every step, +'Twas our united joy +To think that he might be one day +My one and only boy. + +When war broke out he buckled on +His sword, and said, "Good-bye. +For I must do my duty, Dad; +Tell Mother not to cry, +Tell her that I'll come back again." +What happiness and joy! +But no, he died for Liberty, +My one and only boy. + +The days are long, the nights are drear, +The anguish breaks my heart, +But oh! I'm proud my one and only +Laddie played his part. +For God knows best, His will be done, +His grace does me employ. +I do believe I'll meet again +My one and only boy. + +by Harry Lauder + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +Harry Lauder and His Son, Captain John Lauder + +"I did not stop at sending out my recruiting band. I went out myself" + +"'Carry On!' were the last words of my boy, Captain John Lauder, to +his men, but he would mean them for me, too" + +"Bang! Went Sixpence" + +"Harry Lauder preserves the bonnet of his son, brought to him from +where the lad fell, 'The memory of his boy, it is almost his +religion.'--A tatter of plaid of the Black Watch. on a wire of a +German entanglement barely suggests the hell the Scotch troops have +gone through" + +"Captain John Lauder and Comrades Before the Trenches in France" + +"Make us laugh again, Harry!' Though I remember my son and want to +join the ranks, I have obeyed" + +"Harry Lauder, 'Laird of Dunoon.'" +--Medal struck off by Germany when _Lusitania_ was sunk" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +Yon days! Yon palmy, peaceful days! I go back to them, and they are +as a dream. I go back to them again and again, and live them over. +Yon days of another age, the age of peace, when no man dared even to +dream of such times as have come upon us. + +It was in November of 1913, and I was setting forth upon a great +journey, that was to take me to the other side of the world before I +came back again to my wee hoose amang the heather at Dunoon. My wife +was going with me, and my brother-in-law, Tom Valiance, for they go +everywhere with me. But my son John was coming with us only to +Glasgow, and then, when we set out for Liverpool and the steamer that +was to bring us to America he was to go back to Cambridge. He was +near done there, the bonnie laddie. He had taken his degree as +Bachelor of Arts, and was to set out soon upon a trip around the +world. + +Was that no a fine plan I had made for my son? That great voyage he +was to have, to see the world and all its peoples! It was proud I was +that I could give it to him. He was--but it may be I'll tell you more +of John later in this book! + +My pen runs awa' with me, and my tongue, too, when I think of my boy +John. + +We came to the pier at Dunoon, and there she lay, the little ferry +steamer, the black smoke curling from her stack straight up to God. +Ah, the braw day it was! There was a frosty sheen upon the heather, +and the Clyde was calm as glass. The tops of the hills were coated +with snow, and they stood out against the horizon like great big +sugar loaves. + +We were a' happy that day! There was a crowd to see us off. They had +come to bid me farewell and godspeed, all my friends and my +relations, and I went among them, shaking them by the hand and +thinking of the long whiles before I'd be seeing them again. And then +all my goodbys were said, and we went aboard, and my voyage had begun. + +I looked back at the hills and the heather, and I thought of all I +was to do and see before I saw those hills again. I was going half +way round the world and back again. I was going to wonderful places +to see wonderful things and curious faces. But oftenest the thought +came to me, as I looked at my son, that him I would see again before +I saw the heather and the hills and all the friends and the relations +I was leaving behind me. For on his trip around the world he was to +meet us in Australia! It was easier to leave him, easier to set out, +knowing that, thinking of that! + +Wonderful places I went to, surely. And wonderful things I saw and +heard. But the most wonderful thing of all that I was to see or hear +upon that voyage I did not dream of nor foresee. How was a mortal man +to foresee? How was he to dream of it? + +Could I guess that the very next time I set out from Dunoon pier the +peaceful Clyde would be dotted with patrol boats, dashing hither and +thither! Could I guess that everywhere there would be boys in khaki, +and women weeping, and that my boy, John----! Ah, but I'll not tell +you of that now. + +Peaceful the Clyde had been, and peaceful was the Mersey when we +sailed from Liverpool for New York. I look back on yon voyage--the +last I took that way in days of peace. Next time! Destroyers to guard +us from the Hun and his submarines, and to lay us a safe course +through the mines. And sailor boys, about their guns, watching, +sweeping the sea every minute for the flash of a sneaking pirate's +periscope showing for a second above a wave! + +But then! It was a quiet trip, with none but the ups and doons of +every Atlantic crossing--more ups than doons, I'm telling you! + +I was glad to be in America again, glad to see once more the friends +I'd made. They turned out to meet me and to greet me in New York, and +as I travelled across the continent to San Francisco it was the same. +Everywhere I had friends; everywhere they came crowding to shake me +by the hand with a "How are you the day, Harry?" + +It was a long trip, but it was a happy one. How long ago it seems +now, as I write, in this new day of war! How far away are all the +common, kindly things that then I did not notice, and that now I +would give the world and a' to have back again! + +Then, everywhere I went, they pressed their dainties upon me whenever +I sat down for a sup and a bite. The board groaned with plenty. I was +in a rich country, a country where there was enough for all, and to +spare. And now, as I am writing I am travelling again across America. +And there is not enough. When I sit down at table there is a card of +Herbert Hoover's, bidding me be careful how I eat and what I choose. +Ay, but he has no need to warn me! Well I know the truth, and how +America is helping to feed her allies over there, and so must be +sparing herself. + +To think of it! In yon far day the world was all at peace. And now +that great America, that gave so little thought to armies and to +cannon, is fighting with my ain British against the Hun! + +It was in March of 1914 that we sailed from San Francisco, on the +tenth of the month. It was a glorious day as we stood on the deck of +the old Pacific liner _Sonoma_. I was eager and glad to be off. To be +sure, America had been kinder to me than ever, and I was loath, in a +way, to be leaving her and all the friends of mine she held--old +friends of years, and new ones made on that trip. But I was coming +back. And then there was one great reason for my eagerness that few +folk knew--that my son John was coming to meet me in Australia. I was +missing him sore already. + +They came aboard the old tubby liner to see us off, friends by the +score. They kept me busy shaking hands. + +"Good-by, Harry," they said. And "Good luck, Harry," they cried. And +just before the bugles sounded all ashore I heard a few of them +crooning an old Scots song: + +"Will ye no come back again?" + +"Aye, I'll come back again!" I told them when I heard them. + +"Good, Harry, good!" they cried back to me. "It's a promise! We'll be +waiting for you--waiting to welcome you!" + +And so we sailed from San Francisco and from America, out through the +Golden Gate, toward the sunset. Here was beauty for me, who loved it +new beauty, such as I had not seen before. They were quiet days, +happy days, peaceful days. I was tired after my long tour, and the +days at sea rested me, with good talk when I craved it, and time to +sleep, and no need to give thought to trains, or to think, when I +went to bed, that in the night they'd rouse me from my sleep by +switching my car and giving me a bump. + +We came first to Hawaii, and I fell in love with the harbor of +Honolulu as we sailed in. Here, at last, I began to see the strange +sights and hear the strange sounds I had been looking forward to ever +since I left my wee hoose at Dunoon. Here was something that was +different from anything that I had ever seen before. + +We did not stay so long. On the way home I was to stay over and give +a performance in Honolulu, but not now. Our time was given up to +sight seeing, and to meeting some of the folk of the islands. They +ken hospitality! We made many new friends there, short as the time +was. And, man! The lassies! You want to cuddle the first lassie +you meet when you step ashore at Honolulu. But you don't--if the +wife is there! + +It was only because I knew that we were to stop longer on the way +back that I was willing to leave Honolulu at all. So we sailed on, +toward Australia. And now I knew that my boy was about setting out on +his great voyage around the world. Day by day I would get out the map, +and try to prick the spot where he'd be. + +And I'd think: "Aye! When I'm here John'll be there! Will he be +nearer to me than now?" + +Thinking of the braw laddie, setting out, so proud and happy, made me +think of my ain young days. My father couldna' give me such a chance +as my boy was to have. I'd worked in the mines before I was John's +age. There'd been no Cambridge for me--no trip around the world as a +part of my education. And I thanked God that he was letting me do so +much for my boy. + +Aye, and he deserved it, did John! He'd done well at Cambridge; he +had taken honors there. And soon he was to go up to London to read +for the Bar. He was to be a barrister, in wig and gown, my son, John! + +It was of him, and of the meeting we were all to have in Australia, +that I thought, more than anything else, in the long, long days upon +the sea. We sailed on from Honolulu until we came to Paga-Paga. So it +is spelled, but all the natives call it Panga-Panga. + +Here I saw more and yet more of the strange and wonderful things I +had thought upon so long back, in Dunoon. Here I saw mankind, for the +first time, in a natural state. I saw men who wore only the figleaf +of old Father Adam, and a people who lived from day to day, and whom +the kindly earth sustained. + +They lived entirely from vegetables and from clear crystal streams +and upon marvelous fish from the sea. Ah, how I longed to stay in +Paga-Paga and be a natural man. But I must go on. Work called me back +to civilization and sorrow-fully I heeded its call and waved good-by +to the natural folk of Paga-Paga! + +It was before I came to Paga-Paga that I wrote a little verse +inspired by Honolulu. Perhaps, if I had gone first to Paga-Paga-- +don't forget to put in the n and call it Panga-Panga when you say it +to yourself!--I might have written it of that happy island of the +natural folk. But I did not, so here is the verse: + + I love you, Honolulu, Honolulu I love you! + You are the Queen of the Sea! + Your valleys and mountains + Your palais and fountains + Forever and ever will be dear to me! + +I wedded a simple melody to those simple, heart-felt lines, and since +then I have sung the song in pretty nearly every part of the world-- +and in Honolulu itself. + +Our journey was drawing to its end. We were coming to a strange land +indeed. And yet I knew there were Scots folk there--where in the +world are there not? I thought they would be glad to see me, but how +could I be sure? It was a far, far cry from Dunoon and the Clyde and +the frost upon the heather on the day I had set out. + +We were to land at Sydney. I was a wee bit impatient after we had +made our landfall, while the old _Sonoma_ poked her way along. But +she would not be hurried by my impatience. And at last we came to the +Sydney Heads--the famous Harbor Heads. If you have never seen it I do +not know how better to tell you of it than to say that it makes me +think of the entrance to a great cave that has no roof. In we went-- +and were within that great, nearly landlocked harbor. + +And what goings on there were! The harbor was full of craft, both +great and sma'. And each had all her bunting flying. Oh, they were +braw in the sunlight, with the gay colors and the bits of flags, all +fluttering and waving in the breeze! + +And what a din there was, with the shrieking of the whistle and the +foghorns and the sirens and the clamor of bells. It took my breath +away, and I wondered what was afoot. And on the shore I could see +that thousands of people waited, all crowded together by the water +side. There were flags flying, too, from all the buildings. + +"It must be that the King is coming in on a visit--and I never to +have heard of it!" I thought. + +And then they made me understand that it was all for me! + +If there were tears in my eyes when they made me believe that, will +you blame me? There was that great harbor, all alive with the welcome +they made for me. And on the shore, they told me, a hundred thousand +were waiting to greet me and bid me: + +"Welcome, Harry!" + +The tramways had stopped running until they had done with their +welcome to inc. And all over the city, as we drove to our hotel, they +roared their welcome, and there were flags along the way. + +That was the proudest day I ha d ever known. But one thing made me +wistful and wishful. I wanted my boy to be there with us. I wished he +had seen how they had greeted his Dad. Nothing pleased him more than +an honor that came to me. And here was an honor indeed--a reception +the like of which I had never seen. + + + +CHAPTER II + +It was on the twenty-ninth day of March, in that year of 1914 that +dawned in peace and happiness and set in blood and death and bitter +sorrow, that we landed in Sydney. Soon I went to work. Everywhere my +audiences showed me that that great and wonderful reception that had +been given to me on the day we landed had been only an earnest of +what was to come. They greeted me everywhere with cheers and tears, +and everywhere we made new friends, and sometimes found old ones of +whom we had not heard for years. + +And I was thinking all the time, now, of my boy. He was on his way. +He was on the Pacific. He was coming to me, across the ocean, and I +could smile as I thought of how this thing and that would strike +him, and of the smile that would light up his face now and the look +of joy that would come into his eyes at the sudden sighting of some +beautiful spot. Oh, aye--those were happy days When each one brought +my boy nearer to me. + +One day, I mind, the newspapers were full of the tale of a crime ill +an odd spot in Europe that none of us had ever heard of before. You +mind the place? Serajevo! Aye--we all mind it now! But then we read, +and wondered how that outlandish name might be pronounced. A +foreigner was murdered--what if he was a prince, the Archduke of +Austria? Need we lash ourselves about him? + +And so we read, and were sorry, a little, for the puir lady who sat +beside the Archduke and was killed with him. And then we forgot it. +All Australia did. There was no more in the newspapers. And my son +John was coming--coming. Each day he was so many hundred miles nearer +to me. And at last he came. We were in Melbourne then, it was near to +the end of July. + +We had much to talk about--son, and his mother and I. It was long +months since we had seen him, and we had seen and done so much. The +time flew by. Maybe we did not read the papers so carefully as we +might have done. They tell me, they have told me, since then, that in +Europe and even in America, there was some warning after Austria +moved on Serbia. But I believe that down there in Australia they did +not dream of danger; that they were far from understanding the +meaning of the news the papers did print. They were so far away! + +And then, you ken, it came upon us like a clap of thunder. One night +it began. There was war in Europe--real war. Germany had attacked +France and Russia. She was moving troops through Belgium. And every +Briton knew what that must mean. Would Britain be drawn in? There was +the question that was on every man's tongue. + +"What do you think, son?" I asked John. + +"I think we'll go in," he said. "And if we do, you know, Dad--they'll +send for me to come home at once. I'm on leave from the summer +training camp now to make this trip." + +My boy, two years before, had joined the Territorial army. He was a +second lieutenant in a Territorial battalion of the Argyle and +Sutherland Highlanders. It was much as if he had been an officer in a +National Guard regiment in the United States. The territorial army +was not bound to serve abroad--but who could doubt that it would, and +gladly. As it did--to a man, to a man. + +But it was a shock to me when John said that. I had not thought that +war, even if it came, could come home to us so close--and so soon. + +Yet so it was. The next day was the fourth of August--my birthday. +And it was that day that Britain declared war upon Germany. We sat at +lunch in the hotel at Melbourne when the newsboys began to cry the +extras. And we were still at lunch when the hall porter came in from +outside. + +"Leftenant Lauder!" he called, over and over. John beckoned to him, +and he handed my laddie a cablegram. + +Just two words there were, that had come singing along the wires half +way around the world. + +"Mobilize. Return." + +John's eyes were bright. They were shining. He was looking at us, but +he was not seeing us. Those eyes of his were seeing distant things. +My heart way sore within me, but I was proud and happy that it was +such a son I had to give my country. + +"What do you think, Dad?" he asked me, when I had read the order. + +I think I was gruff because I dared not let him see how I felt. His +mother was very pale. + +"This is no time for thinking, son," I said. "It is the time for +action. You know your duty." + +He rose from the table, quickly. + +"I'm off!" he said. + +"Where?" I asked him. + +"To the ticket office to see about changing my berth. There's a +steamer this week--maybe I can still find room aboard her." + +He was not long gone. He and his chum went down together and come +back smiling triumphantly. + +"It's all right, Dad," he told me. "I go to Adelaide by train and get +the steamer there. I'll have time to see you and mother off--your +steamer goes two hours before my train." + +We were going to New Zealand. And my boy was was going home to fight +for his country. They would call me too old, I knew--I was forty-four +the day Britain declared war. + +What a turmoil there was about us! So fast were things moving that +there seemed no time for thought, John's mother and I could not +realize the full meaning of all that was happening. But we knew that +John was snatched away from us just after he had come, and it was +hard--it was cruelly hard. + +But such thoughts were drowned in the great surging excitement that +was all about us. In Melbourne, and I believe it must have been much +the same elsewhere in Australia, folks didn't know what they were to +do, how they were to take this war that had come so suddenly upon +them. And rumors and questions flew in all directions. + +Suppose the Germans came to Australia? Was there a chance of that? +They had islands, naval bases, not so far away. They were Australia's +neighbors. What of the German navy? Was it out? Were there scattered +ships, here and there, that might swoop down upon Australia's shores +and bring death and destruction with them? + +But even before we sailed, next day, I could see that order was +coming out of that chaos. Everywhere recruiting offices were opening, +and men were flocking to them. No one dreamed, really, of a long +war--though John laughed, sadly, when someone said it would be over in +four months. But these Australians took no chances; they would offer +themselves first, and let it be decided later whether they were needed. + +So we sailed away. And when I took John's hand, and kissed him good-by, +I saw him for the last time in his civilian clothes. + +"Well, son," I said, "you're going home to be a soldier, a fighting +soldier. You will soon be commanding men. Remember that you can never +ask a man to do something you would no dare to do yourself!" + +And, oh, the braw look in the eyes of the bonnie laddie as he tilted +his chin up to me! + +"I will remember, Dad!" he said. + +And so long as a bit of the dock was in sight we could see him waving +to us. We were not to see him again until the next January, at Bedford, +in England, where he was training the raw men of his company. + +Those were the first days of war. The British navy was on guard. From +every quarter the whimpering wireless brought news of this German +warship and that. They were scattered far and wide, over the Seven +Seas, you ken, when the war broke out. There was no time for them to +make a home port. They had their choice, most of them, between being +interned in some neutral port and setting out to do as much mischief +as they could to British commerce before they were caught. Caught +they were sure to be. They must have known it. And some there were to +brave the issue and match themselves against England's great naval power. + +Perhaps they knew that few ports would long be neutral! Maybe they +knew of the abominable war the Hun was to wage. But I think it was +not such men as those who chose to take their one chance in a +thousand who were sent out, later, in their submarines, to send women +and babies a to their deaths with their torpedoes! + +Be that as it may, we sailed away from Melbourne. But it was in +Sydney Harbor that we anchored next--not in Wellington, as we, on the +ship, all thought it would be! And the reason was that the navy, +getting word that the German cruiser _Emden_ was loose and raiding, +had ordered our captain to hug the shore, and to put in at Sydney +until he was told it was safe to proceed. + +We were not much delayed, and came to Wellington safely. New Zealand +was all ablaze with the war spirit. There was no hesitation there. +The New Zealand troops were mobilizing when we arrived, and every +recruiting office was besieged with men. Splendid laddies they were, +who looked as if they would give a great account of themselves. As +they did--as they did. Their deeds at Gallipoli speak for them and +will forever speak for them--the men of Australia and New Zealand. + +There the word Anzac was made--made from the first letters of these +words: Australian New Zealand Army Corps. It is a word that will +never die. + +Even in the midst of war they had time to give me a welcome that +warmed my heart. And there were pipers with them, too, skirling a +tune as I stepped ashore. There were tears in my eyes again, as there +had been at Sydney. Every laddie in uniform made me think of my own +boy, well off, by now, on his way home to Britain and the duty that +had called him. + +They were gathering, all over the Empire, those of British blood. +They were answering the call old Britain had sent across the seven +seas to the far corners of the earth. Even as the Scottish clans +gathered of old the greater British clans were gathering now. It was +a great thing to see that in the beginning; it has comforted me many +a time since, in a black hour, when news was bad and the Hun was +thundering at the line that was so thinly held in France. + +Here were free peoples, not held, not bound, free to choose their +way. Britain could not make their sons come to her aid. If they came +they must come freely, joyously, knowing that it was a right cause, a +holy cause, a good cause, that called them. I think of the way they +came--of the way I saw them rising to the summons, in New Zealand, in +Australia, later in Canada. Aye, and I saw more--I saw Americans +slipping across the border, putting on Britain's khaki there in +Canada, because they knew that it was the fight of humanity, of +freedom, that they were entering. And that, too, gave me comfort +later in dark times, for it made me know that when the right time +came America would take her place beside old Britain and brave France. + +New Zealand is a bonnie land. It made me think, sometimes, of the +Hielands of Scotland. A bonnie land, and braw are its people. They +made me happy there, and they made much of me. + +At Christchurch they did a strange thing. They were selling off, at +auction, a Union Jack--the flag of Britain. Such a thing had never +been done before, or thought of. But here was a reason and a good +one. Money was needed for the laddies who were going--needed for all +sorts of things. To buy them small comforts, and tobacco, and such +things as the government might not be supplying them. And so they +asked me to be their auctioneer. + +I played a fine trick upon them there in Christchurch. But I was not +ashamed of myself, and I think they have forgi'en me--those good +bodies at Christchurch! + +Here was the way of it. I was auctioneer, you ken--but that was not +enough to keep me from bidding myself. And so I worked them up and +on--and then I bid in the flag for myself for a hundred pounds--five +hundred dollars of American money. + +I had my doots about how they'd be taking it to have a stranger carry +their flag away. And so I bided a wee. I stayed that night in +Christchurch, and was to stay longer. I could wait. Above yon town of +Christchurch stretch the Merino Hills. On them graze sheep by the +thousand--and it is from those sheep that the true Merino wool comes. +And in the gutters of Christchurch there flows, all day long, a +stream of water as clear and pure as ever you might hope to see. And +it should be so, for it is from artesian wells that it is pumped. + +Aweel, I bided that night and by next day they were murmuring in the +town, and their murmurs came to me. They thought it wasna richt for a +Scotsman to be carrying off their flag--though he'd bought it and +paid for it. And so at last they came to me, and wanted to be buying +back the flag. And I was agreeable. + +"Aye-I'll sell it back to ye!" I told them. "But at a price, ye ken-- +at a price! Pay me twice what I paid for it and it shall be yours!" + +There was a Scots bargain for you! They must have thought me mean and +grasping that day. But out they went. They worked for the money. It +was but just a month after war had been declared, and money was still +scarce and shy of peeping out and showing itself. But, bit by bit, they +got the siller. A shilling at a time they raised, by subscription. But +they got it all, and brought it to me, smiling the while. + +"Here, Harry--here's your money!" they said. "Now give us back our flag!" + +Back to them I gave it--and with it the money they had brought, to be +added to the fund for the soldier boys. And so that one flag brought +three hundred pounds sterling to the soldiers. I wonder did those +folk at Christchurch think I would keep the money and make a profit +on that flag? + +Had it been another time I'd have stayed in New Zealand gladly a long +time. It was a friendly place, and it gave us many a new friend. But +home was calling me. There was more than the homebound tour that had +been planned and laid out for me. I did not know how soon my boy +might be going to France. And his mother and I wanted to see him +again before he went, and to be as near him as might be. + +So I was glad as well as sorry to sail away from New Zealand's +friendly shores, to the strains of pipers softly skirling: + +"Will ye no come back again?" + +We sailed for Sydney on the _Minnehaha_, a fast boat. We were glad of +her speed a day or so out, for there was smoke on the horizon that +gave some anxious hours to our officers. Some thought the German +raider _Emden_ was under that smoke. And it would not have been +surprising had a raider turned up in our path. For just before we +sailed it had been discovered that the man in charge of the principal +wireless station in New Zealand was a German, and he had been +interned. Had he sent word to German warships of the plans and +movements of British ships? No one could prove it, so he was only +interned. + +Back we went to Sydney. A great change had come since our departure. +The war ruled all deed and thought. Australia was bound now to do her +part. No less faithfully and splendidly than New Zealand was she +engaged upon the enterprise the Hun had thrust upon the world. +Everyone was eager for news, but it was woefully scarce. Those were +the black, early days, when the German rush upon Paris was being +stayed, after the disasters of the first fortnight of the war, at the +Marne. + +Everywhere, though there was no lack of determination to see the war +through to a finish, no matter how remote that might be, the feeling +was that this war was too huge, too vast, to last long. Exhaustion +would end it. War upon the modern scale could not last. So they said +--in September, 1914! So many of us believed--and this is the spring +of the fourth year of the war, and the end is not yet, is not in +sight, I fear. + +Sydney turned out, almost as magnificently as when I had first landed +upon Australian soil, to bid me farewell. And we embarked again upon +that same old _Sonoma_ that had brought us to Australia. Again I saw +Paga-Paga and the natural folk, who had no need to toil nor spin to +live upon the fat of the land and be arrayed in the garments that +were always up to the minute in style. + +Again I saw Honolulu, and, this time, stayed longer, and gave a +performance. But, though we were there longer, it was not long enough +to make me yield to that temptation to cuddle one of the brown +lassies! Aweel, I was not so young as I had been, and Mrs. Lauder-- +you ken that she was travelling with me? + +In the harbor of Honolulu there was a German gunboat, the _Geier_, +that had run there for shelter not long since, and had still left a +day or two, under the orders from Washington, to decide whether she +would let herself be interned or not. And outside, beyond the three +mile limit that marked the end of American territorial waters, were +two good reasons to make the German think well of being interned. +They were two cruisers, squat and ugly and vicious in their gray war +paint, that watched the entrance to the harbor as you have seen a cat +watching a rat hole. + +It was not Britain's white ensign that they flew, those cruisers. It +was the red sun flag of Japan, one of Britain's allies against the +Hun. They had their vigil in vain, did those two cruisers. It was +valor's better part, discretion, that the German captain chose. +Aweel, you could no blame him! He and his ship would have been blown +out of the water so soon as she poked her nose beyond American +waters, had he chosen to go out and fight. + +I was glad indeed when we came in sight of the Golden Gate once more, +and when we were safe ashore in San Francisco. It had been a +nerve-racking voyage in many ways. My wife and I were torn with +anxiety about our boy. And there were German raiders loose; one or two +had, so far, eluded the cordon the British fleet had flung about the +world. One night, soon after we left Honolulu, we were stopped. We +thought it was a British cruiser that stopped us, but she would only +ask questions--answering those we asked was not for her! + +But we were ashore at last. There remained only the trip across the +United States to New York and the voyage across the Atlantic home. + + + +CHAPTER III + +Now indeed we began to get real news of the war. We heard of how that +little British army had flung itself into the maw of the Hun. I came +to know something of the glories of the retreat from Mons, and of how +French and British had turned together at the Marne and had saved +Paris. But, alas, I heard too of how many brave men had died--had +been sacrificed, many and many a man of them, to the failure of +Britain to prepare. + +That was past and done. What had been wrong was being mended now. +Better, indeed--ah, a thousand times better!--had Britain given heed +to Lord Roberts, when he preached the gospel of readiness and prayed +his countrymen to prepare for the war that he in his wisdom had +foreseen. But it was easier now to look into the future. + +I could see, as all the world was beginning to see, that this war was +not like other wars. Lord Kitchener had said that Britain must make +ready for a three year war, and I, for one, believed him when others +scoffed, and said he was talking so to make the recruits for his +armies come faster to the colors. I could see that this war might +last for years. And it was then, back in 1914, in the first winter of +the war, that I began to warn my friends in America that they might +well expect the Hun to drag them into the war before its end. And I +made up my mind that I must beg Americans who would listen to me to +prepare. + +So, all the way across the continent, I spoke, in every town we +visited, on that subject of preparedness. I had seen Britain, living +in just such a blissful anticipation of eternal peace as America then +dreamed of. I had heard, for years, every attempt that was made to +induce Britain to increase her army met with the one, unvarying reply. + +"We have our fleet!" That was the answer that was made. And, be it +remembered, that at sea, Britain _was_ prepared! "We have our fleet. +We need no army. If there is a Continental war, we may not be drawn +in at all. Even if we are, they can't reach us. The fleet is between +us and invasion." + +"But," said the advocates of preparedness, "we might have to send an +expeditionary force. If France were attacked, we should have to help +her on land as well as at sea. And we have sent armies to the +continent before." + +"Yes," the other would reply. "We have an expeditionary force. We can +send more than a hundred thousand men across the channel at short +notice--the shortest. And we can train more men here, at home, in +case of need. The fleet makes that possible." + +Aye, the fleet made that possible. The world may well thank God for +the British fleet. I do not know, and I do not like to think, what +might have come about save for the British fleet. But I do know what +came to that expeditionary force that we sent across the channel +quickly, to the help of our sore stricken ally, France. How many of +that old British army still survive? + +They gave themselves utterly. They were the pick and the flower of +our trained manhood. They should have trained the millions who were +to rise at Kitchener's call. But they could not be held back. They +are gone. Others have risen up to take their places--ten for one--a +hundred for one! But had they been ready at the start! The bonnie +laddies who would be living now, instead of lying in an unmarked +grave in France or Flanders! The women whose eyes would never have +been reddened by their weeping as they mourned a son or a brother or +a husband! + +So I was thinking as I set out to talk to my American friends and beg +them to prepare--prepare! I did not want to see this country share +the experience of Britain. If she needs must be drawn into the war-- +and so I believed, profoundly, from the time when I first learned the +true measure of the Hun--I hoped that she might be ready when she +drew her mighty sword. + +They thought I was mad, at first, many of those to whom I talked. +They were so far away from the war. And already the propaganda of the +Germans was at work. Aye, they thought I was raving when I told them +I'd stake my word on it. America would never be able to stay out +until the end. They listened to me. They were willing to do that. But +they listened, doubtingly. I think I convinced few of ought save that +I believed myself what I was saying. + +I could tell them, do you ken, that I'd thought, at first, as they +did! Why, over yon, in Australia, when I'd first heard that the +Germans were attacking France, I was sorry, for France is a bonnie +land. But the idea that Britain might go in I, even then, had laughed +at. And then Britain _had_ gone in! My own boy had gone to the war. +For all I knew I might be reading of him, any day, when I read of a +charge or a fight over there in France! Anything was possible--aye, +probable! + +I have never called myself a prophet. But then, I think, I had +something of a prophet's vision. And all the time I was struggling +with my growing belief that this was to be a long war, and a +merciless war. I did not want to believe some of the things I knew I +must believe. But every day came news that made conviction sink in +deeper and yet deeper. + +It was not a happy trip, that one across the United States. Our +friends did all they could to make it so, but we were consumed by too +many anxieties and cares. How different was it from my journey +westward--only nine months earlier! The world had changed forever in +those nine months. + +Everywhere I spoke for preparedness. I addressed the Rotary Clubs, +and great audiences turned out to listen to me. I am a Rotarian +myself, and I am proud indeed that I may so proclaim myself. It is a +great organization. Those who came to hear me were cordial, nearly +always. But once or twice I met hostility, veiled but not to be +mistaken. And it was easy to trace it to its source. Germans, who +loved the country they had left behind them to come to a New World +that offered them a better home and a richer life than they could +ever have aspired to at home, were often at the bottom of the +opposition to what I had to say. + +They did not want America to prepare, lest her weight be flung into +the scale against Germany. And there were those who hated Britain. +Some of these remembered old wars and grudges that sensible folk had +forgotten long since; others, it may be, had other motives. But there +was little real opposition to what I had to say. It was more a good +natured scoffing, and a feeling that I was cracked a wee bit, +perhaps, about the war. + +I was not sorry to see New York again. We stayed there but one day, +and then sailed for home on the Cunarder _Orduna_--which has since +been sunk, like many another good ship, by the Hun submarines. + +But those were the days just before the Hun began his career of real +frightfulness upon the sea--and under it. Even the Hun came gradually +to the height of his powers in this war. It was not until some weeks +later that he startled the world by proclaiming that every ship that +dared to cross a certain zone of the sea would be sunk without warning. + +When we sailed upon the old _Orduna_ we had anxieties, to be sure. +The danger of striking a mine was never absent, once we neared the +British coasts. There was always the chance, we knew, that some +German raider might have slipped through the cordon in the North Sea. +But the terrors that were to follow the crime of the _Lusitania_ still +lay in the future. They were among the things no man could foresee. + +The _Orduna_ brought us safe to the Mersey and we landed at Liverpool. +Even had there been no thought of danger to the ship, that voyage would +have been a hard one for us to endure. We never ceased thinking of John, +longing for him and news of him. It was near Christmas, but we had small +hope that we should be able to see him on that day. + +All through the voyage we were shut away from all news. The wireless +is silenced in time of war, save for such work as the government +allows. There is none of the free sending, from shore to ship, and +ship to ship, of all the news of the world, such as one grows to +welcome in time of peace. And so, from New York until we neared the +British coast, we brooded, all of us. How fared it with Britain in +the war? Had the Hun launched some new and terrible attack? + +[ILLUSTRATION: "I did not stop at sending out my recruiting band. I +went out myself.". (See Lauder02.jpg)] + +But two days out from home we saw a sight to make us glad and end our +brooding for a space. + +"Eh, Harry--come and look you!" someone called to me. It was early in +the morning, and there was a mist about us. + +I went to the rail and looked in the direction I was told. And there, +rising suddenly out of the mist, shattering it, I saw great, gray +ships--warships--British battleships and cruisers. There they were, +some of the great ships that are the steel wall around Britain that +holds her safe. My heart leaped with joy and pride at the sight of +them, those great, gray guardians of the British shores, bulwarks of +steel that fend all foemen from the rugged coast and the fair land +that lies behind it. + +Now we were safe, ourselves! Who would not trust the British navy, +after the great deeds it has done in this war? For there, mind you, +is the one force that has never failed. The British navy has done +what it set out to do. It has kept command of the seas. The +submarines? The tin fish? They do not command the sea! Have they kept +Canada's men, and America's, from reaching France? + +When we landed my first inquiry was for my son John. He was well, and +he was still in England, in training at Bedford with his regiment, +the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders. But it was as we had feared. +Our Christmas must be kept apart. And so the day before Christmas +found us back in our wee hoose on the Clyde, at Dunoon. But we +thought of little else but the laddie who was making ready to fight +for us, and of the day, that was coming soon, when we should see him. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +It was a fitting place to train men for war, Bedford, where John was +with his regiment, and where his mother and I went to see him so soon +as we could after Christmas. It is in the British midlands, but +before the factory towns begin. It is a pleasant, smiling country, +farming country, mostly, with good roads, and fields that gave the +boys chances to learn the work of digging trenches--aye, and living +in them afterward. + +Bedford is one of the great school towns of England. Low, rolling +hills lie about it; the river Ouse, a wee, quiet stream, runs through +it. Schooling must be in the air of Bedford! Three great schools for +boys are there, and two for girls. And Liberty is in the air of +Bedford, too, I think! John Bunyan was born two miles from Bedford, +and his old house still stands in Elstow, a little village of old +houses and great oaks. And it was in Bedford Jail that Bunyan was +imprisoned because he would fight for the freedom of his own soul. + +John was waiting to greet us, and he looked great. He had two stars +now where he had one before--he had been promoted to first +lieutenant. There were curious changes in the laddie I remembered. He +was bigger, I thought, and he looked older, and graver. But that I +could not wonder at. He had a great responsibility. The lives of +other men had been entrusted to him, and John was not the man to take +a responsibility like that lightly. + +I saw him the first day I was at Bedford, leading some of his men in +a practice charge. Big, braw laddies they were--all in their kilts. +He ran ahead of them, smiling as he saw me watching them, but turning +back to cheer them on if he thought they were not fast enough. I +could see as I watched him that he had caught the habit of command. +He was going to be a good officer. It was a proud thought for me, and +again I was rejoiced that it was such a son that I was able to offer +to my country. + +They were kept busy at that training camp. Men were needed sore in +France. Recruits were going over every day. What the retreat from +Mons and the Battle of the Marne had left of that first heroic +expeditionary force the first battle of Ypres had come close to +wiping out. In the Ypres salient our men out there were hanging on +like grim death. There was no time to spare at Bedford, where men +were being made ready as quickly as might be to take their turn in +the trenches. + +But there was a little time when John and I could talk. + +"What do you need most, son?" I asked him. + +"Men!" he cried. "Men, Dad, men! They're coming in quickly. Oh, +Britain has answered nobly to the call. But they're not coming in +fast enough. We must have more men--more men!" + +I had thought, when I asked my question, of something John might be +needing for himself, or for his men, mayhap. But when he answered me +so I said nothing. I only began to think. I wanted to go myself. But +I knew they would not have me--yet awhile, at any rate. And still I +felt that I must do something. I could not rest idle while all around +me men were giving themselves and all they had and were. + +Everywhere I heard the same cry that John had raised: + +"Men! Give us men!" + +It came from Lord Kitchener. It came from the men in command in +France and Belgium--that little strip of Belgium the Hun had not been +able to conquer. It came from every broken, maimed man who came back +home to Britain to be patched up that he might go out again. There +were scores of thousands of men in Britain who needed only the last +quick shove to send them across the line of enlistment. And after I +had thought a while I hit upon a plan. + +"What stirs a man's fighting spirit quicker or better than the right +sort of music?" I asked myself. "And what sort of music does it best +of all?" + +There can be only one answer to that last question! And so I +organized my recruiting band, that was to be famous all over Britain +before so very long. I gathered fourteen of the best pipers and +drummers I could find in all Scotland. I equipped them, gave them the +Highland uniform, and sent them out, to travel over Britain skirling +and drumming the wail of war through the length and breadth of the +land. They were to go everywhere, carrying the shrieking of the pipes +into the highways and the byways, and so they did. And I paid the bills. + +That was the first of many recruiting bands that toured Britain. +Because it was the first, and because of the way the pipers skirled +out the old hill melodies and songs of Scotland, enormous crowds +followed my band. And it led them straight to the recruiting +stations. There was a swing and a sway about those old tunes that the +young fellows couldn't resist. + +The pipers would begin to skirl and the drums to beat in a square, +maybe, or near the railway station. And every time the skirling of +the pipes would bring the crowd. Then the pipers would march, when +the crowd was big enough, and lead the way always to the recruiting +place. And once they were there the young fellows who weren't "quite +ready to decide" and the others who were just plain slackers, willing +to let better men die for them, found it mighty hard to keep from going +on the wee rest of the way that the pipers had left them to make alone! + +It was wonderful work my band did, and when the returns came to me I +felt like the Pied Piper! Yes I did, indeed! + +I did not travel with my band. That would have been a waste of +effort. There was work for both of us to do, separately. I was booked +for a tour of Britain, and everywhere I went I spoke, and urged the +young men to enlist. I made as many speeches as I could, in every +town and city that I visited, and I made special trips to many. I +thought, and there were those who agreed with me, that I could, it +might be, reach audiences another speaker, better trained than I, no +doubt, in this sort of work, would not touch. + +So there was I, without official standing, going about, urging every +man who could to don khaki. I talked wherever and whenever I could +get an audience together, and I began then the habit of making +speeches in the theatres, after my performance, that I have not yet +given up. I talked thus to the young men. + +"If you don't do your duty now," I told them, "you may live to be old +men. But even if you do, you will regret it! Yours will be a +sorrowful old age. In the years to come, mayhap, there'll be a wee +grandchild nestling on your knee that'll circle its little arms about +your neck and look into your wrinkled face, and ask you: + +"'How old are you, Grandpa? You're a very old man.' + +"How will you answer that bairn's question?" So I asked the young +men. And then I answered for them: "I don't know how old I am, but I +am so old that I can remember the great war." + +"And then"--I told them, the young men who were wavering--"and then +will come the question that you will always have to dread--when you +have won through to the old age that may be yours in safety if you +shirk now! For the bairn will ask you, straightaway: 'Did _you_ fight +in the great war, Grandpa? What did you do?' + +"God help the man," I told them, "who cannot hand it down as a +heritage to his children and his children's children that he fought +in the great war!" + +I must have impressed many a brave lad who wanted only a bit of +resolution to make him do his duty. They tell me that I and my band +together influenced more than twelve thousand men to join the colors; +they give me credit for that many, in one way and another. I am proud +of that. But I am prouder still of the way the boys who enlisted upon +my urging feel. Never a one has upbraided me; never a one has told me +he was sorry he had heard me and been led to go. + +It is far otherwise. The laddies who went because of me called me +their godfather, many of them! Many's the letter I have had from +them; many the one who has greeted me, as I was passing through a +hospital, or, long afterward, when I made my first tour in France, +behind the front line trenches. Many letters, did I say? I have had +hundreds--thousands! And not so much as a word of regret in any one +of them. + +It was not only in Britain that I influenced enlistments. I preached +the cause of the Empire in Canada, later. And here is a bit of verse +that a Canadian sergeant sent to me. He dedicated it to me, indeed, +and I am proud and glad that he did. + + "ONE OF THE BOYS WHO WENT" + + Say, here now, Mate, + Don't you figure it's great + To think when this war is all over; + When we're through with this mud, + And spilling o' blood, + And we're shipped back again to old Dover. + When they've paid us our tin, + And we've blown the lot in, + And our last penny is spent; + We'll still have a thought-- + If it's all that we've got-- + I'm one of the boys who went! + And perhaps later on + When your wild days are gone, + You'll be settling down for life, + You've a girl in your eye + You'll ask bye and bye + To share up with you as your wife. + When a few years have flown, + And you've kids of your own, + And you're feeling quite snug and content; + It'll make your heart glad + When they boast of their dad + As one of the boys who went! + +There was much work for me to do beside my share in the campaign to +increase enlistments. Every day now the wards of the hospitals were +filling up. Men suffering from frightful wounds came back to be +mended and made as near whole as might be. And among them there was +work for me, if ever the world held work for any man. + +I did not wait to begin my work in the hospitals. Everywhere I went, +where there were wounded men, I sang for those who were strong enough +to be allowed to listen, and told them stories, and did all I could +to cheer them up. It was heartrending work, oftentimes. There were +dour sights, dreadful sights in those hospitals. There were wounds +the memory of which robbed me of sleep. There were men doomed to +blindness for the rest of their lives. + +But over all there was a spirit that never lagged or faltered, and +that strengthened me when I thought some sight was more than I could +bear. It was the spirit of the British soldier, triumphant over +suffering and cruel disfigurement, with his inevitable answer to any +question as to how he was getting on. I never heard that answer +varied when a man could speak at all. Always it was the same. Two +words were enough. + +"All right!" + + + +CHAPTER V + +As I went about the country now, working hard to recruit men, to +induce people to subscribe to the war loan, doing all the things in +which I saw a chance to make myself useful, there was now an ever +present thought. When would John go out? He must go soon. I knew +that, so did his mother. We had learned that he would not be sent +without a chance to bid us good-by. There we were better off than +many a father and mother in the early days of the war. Many's the +mother who learned first that her lad had gone to France when they +told her he was dead. And many's the lassie who learned in the same +way that her lover would never come home to be her husband. + +But by now Britain was settled down to war. It was as if war were the +natural state of things, and everything was adjusted to war and those +who must fight it. And many things were ordered better and more +mercifully than they had been at first. + +It was in April that word came to us. We might see John again, his +mother and I, if we hurried to Bedford. And so we did. For once I +heeded no other call. It was a sad journey, but I was proud and glad +as well as sorry. John must do his share. There was no reason why my +son should take fewer risks than another man's. That was something +all Britain was learning in those days. We were one people. We must +fight as one; one for all--all for one. + +John was sober when he met us. Sober, aye! But what a light there was +in his eyes! He was eager to be at the Huns. Tales of their doings +were coming back to us now, faster and faster. They were tales to +shock me. But they were tales, too, to whet the courage and sharpen +the steel of every man who could fight and meant to go. + +It was John's turn to go. So it was he felt. And so it was his mother +and I bid him farewell, there at Bedford. We did not know whether we +would ever see him again, the bonnie laddie! We had to bid him good-by, +lest it be our last chance. For in Britain we knew, by then, what were +the chances they took, those boys of ours who went out. + +"Good-by, son--good luck!" + +"Good-by, Dad. See you when I get leave!" + +That was all. We were not allowed to know more than that he was +ordered to France. Whereabouts in the long trench line he would be +sent we were not told. "Somewhere in France." That phrase, that had +been dinned so often into our ears, had a meaning for us now. + +And now, indeed, our days and nights were anxious ones. The war was +in our house as it had never been before. I could think of nothing +but my boy. And yet, all the time I had to go on. I had to carry on, +as John was always bidding his men do. I had to appear daily before +my audiences, and laugh and sing, that I might make them laugh, and +so be better able to do their part. + +They had made me understand, my friends, by that time, that it was +really right for me to carry on with my own work. I had not thought +so at first. I had felt that it was wrong for me to be singing at +such a time. But they showed me that I was influencing thousands to +do their duty, in one way or another, and that I was helping to keep +up the spirit of Britain, too. + +"Never forget the part that plays, Harry," my friends told me. +"That's the thing the Hun can't understand. He thought the British +would be poor fighters because they went into action with a laugh. +But that's the thing that makes them invincible. You've your part to +do in keeping up that spirit." + +So I went on but it was with a heavy heart, oftentimes. John's +letters were not what made my heart heavy. There was good cheer in +everyone of them. He told us as much as the censor's rules would let +him of the front, and of conditions as he found them. They were still +bad--cruelly bad. But there was no word of complaint from John. + +The Germans still had the best of us in guns in those days, although +we were beginning to catch up with them. And they knew more about +making themselves comfortable in the trenches than did our boys. No +wonder! They spent years of planning and making ready for this war. +And it has not taken us so long, all things considered, to catch up +with them. + +John's letters were cheery and they came regularly, too, for a time. +But I suppose it was because they left out so much, because there was +so great a part of my boy's life that was hidden from me, that I +found myself thinking more and more of John as a wee bairn and as a +lad growing up. + +He was a real boy. He had the real boy's spirit of fun and mischief. +There was a story I had often told of him that came to my mind now. +We were living in Glasgow. One drizzly day, Mrs. Lauder kept John in +the house, and he spent the time standing at the parlor window +looking down on the street, apparently innocently interested in the +passing traffic. + +In Glasgow it is the custom for the coal dealers to go along the +streets with their lorries, crying their wares, much after the manner +of a vegetable peddler in America. If a housewife wants any coal, she +goes to the window when she hears the hail of the coal man, and holds +up a finger, or two fingers, according to the number of sacks of coal +she wants. + +To Mrs. Lauder's surprise, and finally to her great vexation, coal +men came tramping up our stairs every few minutes all afternoon, each +one staggering under the weight of a hundredweight sack of coal. She +had ordered no coal and she wanted no coal, but still the coal men +came--a veritable pest of them. + +They kept coming, too, until she discovered that little John was the +author of their grimy pilgrimages to our door. He was signalling +every passing lorrie from the window in the Glasgow coal code! + +I watched him from that window another day when he was quarreling +with a number of playmates in the street below. The quarrel finally +ended in a fight. John was giving one lad a pretty good pegging, when +the others decided that the battle was too much his way, and jumped +on him. + +John promptly executed a strategic retreat. He retreated with +considerable speed, too. I saw him running; I heard the patter of his +feet on our stairs, and a banging at our door. I opened it and +admitted a flushed, disheveled little warrior, and I heard the other +boys shouting up the stairs what they would do to him. + +By the time I got the door closed, and got back to our little parlor, +John was standing at the window, giving a marvelous pantomime for the +benefit of his enemies in the street. He was putting his small, +clenched fist now to his nose, and now to his jaw, to indicate to the +youngsters what he was going to do to them later on. + +Those, and a hundred other little incidents, were as fresh in my +memory as if they had only occurred yesterday. His mother and I +recalled them over and over again. From the day John was born, it +seems to me the only things that really interested me were the things +in which he was concerned. I used to tuck him in his crib at night. +The affairs of his babyhood were far more important to me than my own +personal affairs. + +I watched him grow and develop with enormous pride, and he took great +pride in me. That to me was far sweeter than praise from crowned +heads. Soon he was my constant companion. He was my business +confidant. More--he was my most intimate friend. + +There were no secrets between us. I think that John and I talked of +things that few fathers and sons have the courage to discuss. He +never feared to ask my advice on any subject, and I never feared to +give it to him. + +I wish you could have known my son as he was to me. I wish all +fathers could know their sons as I knew John. He was the most +brilliant conversationalist I have ever known. He was my ideal +musician. + +He took up music only as an accomplishment, however. He did not want +to be a performer, although he had amazing natural talent in that +direction. Music was born in him. He could transpose a melody in any +key. You could whistle an air for him, and he could turn it into a +little opera at once. + +However, he was anxious to make for himself in some other line of +endeavor, and while he was often my piano accompanist, he never had +any intention of going on the stage. + +When he was fifteen years old, I was commanded to appear before King +Edward, who was a guest at Rufford Abbey, the seat of Lord and Lady +Sayville, situated in a district called the Dukeries, and I took John +as my accompanist. + +I gave my usual performance, and while I was making my changes, John +played the piano. At the close, King Edward sent for me, and thanked +me. It was a proud moment for me, but a prouder moment came when the +King spoke of John's playing, and thanked him for his part in the +entertainment. + +There were curious contradictions, it often seemed to me, in John. +His uncle, Tom Vallance, was in his day, one of the very greatest +football players in Scotland. But John never greatly liked the game. +He thought it was too rough. He thought any game was a poor game in +which players were likely to be hurt. And yet--he had been eager for +the rough game of war! The roughest game of all! + +Ah, but that was not a game to him! He was not one of those who went +to war with a light heart, as they might have entered upon a football +match. All honor to those who went into the war so--they played a +great part and a noble part! But there were more who went to war as +my boy did--taking it upon themselves as a duty and a solemn +obligation. They had no illusions. They did not love war. No! John +hated war, and the black ugly horrors of it. But there were things he +hated more than he hated war. And one was a peace won through +submission to injustice. + +Have I told you how my boy looked? He was slender, but he was strong +and wiry. He was about five feet five inches tall; he topped his Dad +by a handspan. And he was the neatest boy you might ever have hoped +to see. Aye--but he did not inherit that from me! Indeed, he used to +reproach me, oftentimes, for being careless about my clothes. My +collar would be loose, perhaps, or my waistcoat would not fit just +so. He'd not like that, and he would tell me so! + +When he did that I would tell him of times when he was a wee boy, and +would come in from play with a dirty face; how his mother would order +him to wash, and how he would painstakingly mop off just enough of +his features to leave a dark ring abaft his cheeks, and above his +eyes, and below his chin. + +"You wash your face, but never let on to your neck," I would tell him +when he was a wee laddie. + +He had a habit then of parting and brushing about an inch of his +hair, leaving the rest all topsy-turvy. My recollection of that +boyhood habit served me as a defense in later years when he would +call my attention to my own disordered hair. + +I linger long, and I linger lovingly over these small details, +because they are part of my daily thoughts. Every day some little +incident comes up to remind me of my boy. A battered old hamper, in +which I carry my different character make-ups, stands in my dressing +room. It was John's favorite seat. Every time I look at it I have a +vision of a tiny wide-eyed boy perched on the lid, watching me make +ready for the stage. A lump rises, unbidden, in my throat. + +In all his life, I never had to admonish my son once. Not once. He +was the most considerate lad I have ever known. He was always +thinking of others. He was always doing for others. + +It was with such thoughts as these that John's mother and I filled in +the time between his letters. They came as if by a schedule. We knew +what post should bring one. And once or twice a letter was a post +late and our hearts were in our throats with fear. And then came a +day when there should have been a letter, and none came. The whole +day passed. I tried to comfort John's mother! I tried to believe +myself that it was no more than a mischance of the post. But it was +not that. + +We could do nought but wait. Ah, but the folks at home in Britain +know all too well those sinister breaks in the chains of letters from +the front! Such a break may mean nothing or anything. + +For us, news came quickly. But it was not a letter from John that +came to us. It was a telegram from the war office and it told us no +more than that our boy was wounded and in hospital. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"Wounded and in hospital!" + +That might have meant anything. And for a whole week that was all we +knew. To hope for word more definite until--and unless--John himself +could send us a message, appeared to be hopeless. Every effort we +made ended in failure. And, indeed, at such a time, private inquiries +could not well be made. The messages that had to do with the war and +with the business of the armies had to be dealt with first. + +But at last, after a week in which his mother and I almost went mad +with anxiety, there came a note from our laddie himself. He told us +not to fret--that all that ailed him was that his nose was split and +his wrist bashed up a bit! His mother looked at me and I at her. It +seemed bad enough to us! But he made light of his wounds--aye, and he +was right! When I thought of men I'd seen in hospitals--men with +wounds so frightful that they may not be told of--I rejoiced that +John had fared so well. + +And I hoped, too, that his wounds would bring him home to us--to +Blighty, as the Tommies were beginning to call Britain. But his +wounds were not serious enough for that and so soon as they were +healed, he went back to the trenches. + +"Don't worry about me," he wrote to us. "Lots of fellows out here +have been wounded five and six times, and don't think anything of it. +I'll be all right so long as I don't get knocked out." + +He didn't tell us then that it was the bursting of a shell that gave +him his first wounded stripe. But he wrote to us regularly again, and +there were scarcely any days in which a letter did not come either to +me or to his mother. When one of those breaks did come it was doubly +hard to bear now. + +For now we knew what it was to dread the sight of a telegraph +messenger. Few homes in Britain there are that do not share that +knowledge now. It is by telegraph, from the war office, that bad news +comes first. And so, with the memory of that first telegram that we +had had, matters were even worse, somehow, than they had been before. +For me the days and nights dragged by as if they would never pass. + +There was more news in John's letters now. We took some comfort from +that. I remember one in which he told his mother how good a bed he +had finally made for himself the night before. For some reason he was +without quarters--either a billet or a dug-out. He had to skirmish +around, for he did not care to sleep simply in Flanders mud. But at +last he found two handfuls of straw, and with them made his couch. + +"I got a good two hours' sleep," he wrote to his mother. "And I was +perfectly comfortable. I can tell you one thing, too, Mother. If I +ever get home after this experience, there'll be one in the house +who'll never grumble! This business puts the grumbling out of your +head. This is where the men are. This is where every man ought to be." + +In another letter he told us that nine of his men had been killed. + +"We buried them last night," he wrote, "just as the sun went down. It +was the first funeral I have ever attended. It was most impressive. +We carried the boys to one huge grave. The padre said a prayer, and +we lowered the boys into the ground, and we all sang a little hymn: +'Peace, Perfect Peace!' Then I called my men to attention again, and +we marched straight back into the trenches, each of us, I dare say, +wondering who would be the next." + +John was promoted for the second time in Flanders. He was a captain, +having got his step on the field of battle. Promotion came swiftly in +those days to those who proved themselves worthy. And all of the few +reports that came to us of John showed us that he was a good officer. +His men liked him, and trusted him, and would follow him anywhere. +And little more than that can be said of any officer. + +While Captain John Lauder was playing his part across the Channel, I +was still trying to do what I could at home. My band still travelled +up and down, the length and width of the United Kingdom, skirling and +drumming and drawing men by the score to the recruiting office. + +There was no more talk now of a short war. We knew what we were in +for now. + +But there was no thought or talk of anything save victory. Let the +war go on as long as it must--it could end only in one way. We had +been forced into the fight--but we were in, and we were in to stay. +John, writing from France, was no more determined than those at home. + +It was not very long before there came again a break in John's +letters. We were used to the days--far apart--that brought no word. +Not until the second day and the third day passed without a word, did +Mrs. Lauder and I confess our terrors and our anxiety to ourselves +and one another. This time our suspense was comparatively short-lived. +Word came that John was in hospital again--at the Duke of Westminster's +hospital at Le Toquet, in France. This time he was not wounded; he was +suffering from dysentery, fever and--a nervous breakdown. That was what +staggered his mother and me. A nervous breakdown! We could not reconcile +the John we knew with the idea that the words conveyed to us. He had +been high strung, to be sure, and sensitive. But never had he been the +sort of boy of whom to expect a breakdown so severe as this must be if +they had sent him to the hospital. + +We could only wait to hear from him, however. And it was several +weeks before he was strong enough to be able to write to us. There +was no hint of discouragement in what he wrote then. On the contrary, +he kept on trying to reassure us, and if he ever grew downhearted, he +made it his business to see that we did not suspect it. Here is one +of his letters--like most of them it was not about himself. + +"I had a sad experience yesterday," he wrote to me. "It was the first +day I was able to be out of bed, and I went over to a piano in a +corner against the wall, sat down, and began playing very softly, +more to myself than anything else. + +"One of the nurses came to me, and said a Captain Webster, of the +Gordon Highlanders, who lay on a bed in the same ward, wanted to +speak to me. She said he had asked who was playing, and she had told +him Captain Lauder--Harry Lauder's son. 'Oh,' he said, 'I know Harry +Lauder very well. Ask Captain Lauder to come here?' + +"This man had gone through ten operations in less than a week. I +thought perhaps my playing had disturbed him, but when I went to his +bedside, he grasped my hand, pressed it with what little strength he +had left, and thanked me. He asked me if I could play a hymn. He said +he would like to hear 'Lead, Kindly Light.' + +"So I went back to the piano and played it as softly and as gently as +I could. It was his last request. He died an hour later. I was very +glad I was able to soothe his last moments a little. I am very glad +now I learned the hymn at Sunday School as a boy." + +[ILLUSTRATION: "'Carry On!' were the last words of my boy, Captain +John Lauder, to his men, but he would mean them for me, too." (See +Lauder03.jpg)] + +Soon after we received that letter there came what we could not but +think great news. John was ordered home! He was invalided, to be +sure, and I warned his mother that she must be prepared for a shock +when she saw him. But no matter how ill he was, we would have our lad +with us for a space. And for that much British fathers and mothers +had learned to be grateful. + +I had warned John's mother, but it was I who was shocked when I saw +him first on the day he came back to our wee hoose at Dunoon. His +cheeks were sunken, his eyes very bright, as a man's are who has a +fever. He was weak and thin, and there was no blood in his cheeks. It +was a sight to wring one's heart to see the laddie so brought down-- +him who had looked so braw and strong the last time we had seen him. + +That had been when he was setting out for the wars, you ken! And now +he was back, sae thin and weak and pitiful as I had not seen him +since he had been a bairn in his mother's arms. + +Aweel, it was for us, his mother and I, and all the folks at home, to +mend him, and make him strong again. So he told us, for he had but +one thing on his mind--to get back to his men. + +"They'll be needing me, out there," he said. "They're needing men. I +must go back so soon as I can. Every man is needed there." + +"You'll be needing your strength back before you can be going back, +son," I told him. "If you fash and fret it will take you but so much +the longer to get back." + +He knew that. But he knew things I could not know, because I had not +seen them. He had seen things that he saw over and over again when he +tried to sleep. His nerves were shattered utterly. It grieved me sore +not to spend all my time with him but he would not hear of it. He +drove me back to my work. + +"You must work on, Dad, like every other Briton," he said. "Think of +the part you're playing. Why you're more use than any of us out +there--you're worth a brigade!" + +So I left him on the Clyde, and went on about my work. But I went +back to Dunoon as often as I could, as I got a day or a night to make +the journey. At first there was small change of progress. John would +come downstairs about the middle of the day, moving slowly and +painfully. And he was listless; there was no life in him; no +resiliency or spring. + +"How did you rest, son?" I would ask him. He always smiled when he +answered. + +"Oh, fairly well," he'd tell me. "I fought three or four battles +though, before I dropped off to sleep." + +He had come to the right place to be cured, though, and his mother +was the nurse he needed. It was quiet in the hills of the Clyde, and +there was rest and healing in the heather about Dunoon. Soon his +sleep became better and less troubled by dreams. He could eat more, +too, and they saw to it, at home, that he ate all they could stuff +into him. + +So it was a surprisingly short time, considering how bad he had +looked when he first came back to Dunoon, before he was in good +health and spirits again. There was a bonnie, wee lassie who was to +become Mrs. John Lauder ere so long--she helped our boy, too, to get +back his strength. + +Soon he was ordered from home. For a time he had only light duties +with the Home Reserve. Then he went to school. I laughed when he told +me he had been ordered to school, but he didna crack a smile. + +"You needn't be laughing," he said. "It's a bombing school I'm going +to now-a-days. If you're away from the front for a few weeks, you +find everything changed when you get back. Bombing is going to be +important." + +John did so well in the bombing school that he was made an instructor +and assigned, for a while, to teach others. But he was impatient to +be back with his own men, and they were clamoring for him. And so, on +September 16, 1916, his mother and I bade him good-by again, and he +went back to France and the men his heart was wrapped up in. + +"Yon's where the men are, Dad!" he said to me, just before he started. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +John's mother, his sweetheart and I all saw him off at Glasgow. The +fear was in all our hearts, and I think it must have been in all our +eyes, as well--the fear that every father and mother and sweetheart +in Britain shared with us in these days whenever they saw a boy off +for France and the trenches. Was it for the last time? Were we seeing +him now so strong and hale and hearty, only to have to go the rest of +our lives with no more than a memory of him to keep? + +Aweel, we could not be telling that! We could only hope and pray! And +we had learned again to pray, long since. I have wondered, often, and +Mrs. Lauder has wondered with me, what the fathers and mothers of +Britain would do in these black days without prayer to guide them and +sustain them. So we could but stand there, keeping back our tears and +our fears, and hoping for the best. One thing was sure; we might not +let the laddie see how close we were to greeting. It was for us to be +so brave as God would let us be. It was hard for him. He was no boy, +you ken, going blindly and gayly to a great adventure; he had need of +the finest courage and devotion a man could muster that day. + +For he knew fully now what it was that he was going back to. He knew +the hell the Huns had made of war, which had been bad enough, in all +conscience, before they did their part to make it worse. And he was +high strung. He could live over, and I make no doubt he did, in those +days after he had his orders to go back, every grim and dreadful +thing that was waiting for him out there. He had been through it all, +and he was going back. He had come out of the valley of the shadow, +and now he was to ride down into it again. + +And it was with a smile he left us! I shall never forget that. His +thought was all for us whom he was leaving behind. His care was for +us, lest we should worry too greatly and think too much of him. + +"I'll be all right," he told us. "You're not to fret about me, any of +you. A man does take his chances out there--but they're the chances +every man must take these days, if he's a man at all. I'd rather be +taking them than be safe at home." + +We did our best to match the laddie's spirit and be worthy of him. +But it was cruelly hard. We had lost him and found him again, and now +he was being taken from us for the second time. It was harder, much +harder, to see him go this second time than it had been at first, and +it had been hard enough then, and bad enough. But there was nothing +else for it. So much we knew. It was a thing ordered and inevitable. + +And it was not many days before we had slipped back into the way +things had been before John was invalided home. It is a strange thing +about life, the way that one can become used to things. So it was +with us. Strange things, terrible things, outrageous things, that, in +time of peace, we would never have dared so much as to think +possible, came to be the matters of every day for us. It was so with +John. We came to think of it as natural that he should be away from +us, and in peril of his life every minute of every hour. It was not +easier for us. Indeed, it was harder than it had been before, just as +it had been harder for us to say good-by the second time. But we +thought less often of the strangeness of it. We were really growing +used to the war, and it was less the monstrous, strange thing than it +had been in our daily lives. War had become our daily life and +portion in Britain. All who were not slackers were doing their part-- +every one. Man and woman and child were in it, making sacrifices. +Those happy days of peace lay far behind us, and we had lost our +touch with them and our memory of them was growing dim. We were all +in it. We had all to suffer alike, we were all in the same boat, we +mothers and fathers and sweethearts of Britain. And so it was easier +for us not to think too much and too often of our own griefs and +cares and anxieties. + +John's letters began to come again in a steady stream. He was as +careful as ever about writing. There was scarcely a day that did not +bring its letter to one of the three of us. And what bonnie, brave +letters they were! They were as cheerful and as bright as his first +letters had been. If John had bad hours and bad days out there he +would not let us know it. He told us what news there was, and he was +always cheerful and bright when he wrote. He let no hint of +discouragement creep into anything he wrote to us. He thought of +others first, always and all the time; of his men, and of us at home. +He was quite cured and well, he told us, and going back had done him +good instead of harm. He wrote to us that he felt as if he had come +home. He felt, you ken, that it was there, in France and in the +trenches, that men should feel at home in those days, and not safe in +Britain by their ain firesides. + +It was not easy for me to be cheerful and comfortable about him, +though. I had my work to do. I tried to do it as well as I could, for +I knew that that would please him. My band still went up and down the +country, getting recruits, and I was speaking, too, and urging men +myself to go out and join the lads who were fighting and dying for +them in France. They told me I was doing good work; that I was a +great force in the war. And I did, indeed, get many a word and many a +handshake from men who told me I had induced them to enlist. + +"I'm glad I heard you, Harry," man after man said to me. "You showed +me what I should be doing and I've been easier in my mind ever since +I put on the khaki!" + +I knew they'd never regret it, no matter what came to them. No man +will, that's done his duty. It's the slackers who couldn't or +wouldn't see their duty men should feel sorry for! It's not the lads +who gave everything and made the final sacrifice. + +It was hard for me to go on with my work of making folks laugh. It +had been growing harder steadily ever since I had come home from +America and that long voyage of mine to Australia and had seen what +war was and what it was doing to Britain. But I carried on, and did +the best I could. + +That winter I was in the big revue at the Shaftesbury Theatre, in +London, that was called "Three Cheers." It was one of the gay shows +that London liked because it gave some relief from the war and made +the Zeppelin raids that the Huns were beginning to make so often now +a little easier to bear. And it was a great place for the men who +were back from France. It was partly because of them that I could go +on as I did. We owed them all we could give them. And when they came +back from the mud and the grime and the dreariness of the trenches, +they needed something to cheer them up--needed the sort of production +we gave them. A man who has two days' leave in London does not want +to see a serious play or a problem drama, as a rule. He wants +something light, with lots of pretty girls and jolly tunes and people +to make him laugh. And we gave him that. The house was full of +officers and men, night after night. + +Soon word came from John that he was to have leave, just after +Christmas, that would bring him home for the New Year's holidays. His +mother went home to make things ready, for John was to be married +when he got his leave. I had my plans all made. I meant to build a +wee hoose for the two of them, near our own hoose at Dunoon, so that +we might be all together, even though my laddie was in a home of his +own. And I counted the hours and the days against the time when John +would be home again. + +While we were playing at the Shaftesbury I lived at an hotel in +Southampton Row called the Bonnington. But it was lonely for me +there. On New Year's Eve--it fell on a Sunday--Tom Vallance, my +brother-in-law, asked me to tea with him and his family in Clapham, +where he lived. That is a pleasant place, a suburb of London on the +southwest, and I was glad to go. And so I drove out with a friend of +mine, in a taxicab, and was glad to get out of the crowded part of +the city for a time. + +I did not feel right that day. Holiday times were bad, hard times for +me then. We had always made so much of Christmas, and here was the +third Christmas that our boy had been away. And so I was depressed. +And then, there had been no word for me from John for a day or two. I +was not worried, for I thought it likely that his mother or his +sweetheart had heard, and had not time yet to let me know. But, +whatever the reason, I was depressed and blue, and I could not enter +into the festive spirit that folk were trying to keep alive despite +the war. + +I must have been poor company during that ride to Clapham in the +taxicab. We scarcely exchanged a word, my friend and I. I did not +feel like talking, and he respected my mood, and kept quiet himself. +I felt, at last, that I ought to apologize to him. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me," I told him. "I simply don't +want to talk. I feel sad and lonely. I wonder if my boy is all right?" + +"Of course he is!" my friend told me. "Cheer up, Harry. This is a time +when no news is good news. If anything were wrong with him they'd let +you know." + +Well, I knew that, too. And I tried to cheer up, and feel better, so +that I would not spoil the pleasure of the others at Tom Vallance's +house. I tried to picture John as I thought he must be--well, and +happy, and smiling the old, familiar boyish smile I knew so well. I +had sent him a box of cigars only a few days before, and he would be +handing it around among his fellow officers. I knew that! But it was +no use. I could think of John, but it was only with sorrow and +longing. And I wondered if this same time in a year would see him +still out there, in the trenches. Would this war ever end? And so the +shadows still hung about me when we reached Tom's house. + +They made me very welcome, did Tom and all his family. They tried to +cheer me, and Tom did all he could to make me feel better, and to +reassure me. But I was still depressed when we left the house and +began the drive back to London. + +"It's the holiday--I'm out of gear with that, I'm thinking," I told +my friend. + +He was going to join two other friends, and, with them, to see the +New Year in in an old fashioned way, and he wanted me to join them. +But I did not feel up to it; I was not in the mood for anything of +the sort. + +"No, no, I'll go home and turn in," I told him. "I'm too dull tonight +to be good company." + +He hoped, as we all did, that this New Year that was coming would +bring victory and peace. Peace could not come without victory; we +were all agreed on that. But we all hoped that the New Year would +bring both--the new year of 1917. And so I left him at the corner of +Southhampton Row, and went back to my hotel alone. It was about +midnight, a little before, I think, when I got in, and one of the +porters had a message for me. + +"Sir Thomas Lipton rang you up," he said, "and wants you to speak +with him when you come in." + +I rang him up at home directly. + +"Happy New Year, when it comes, Harry!" he said. He spoke in the same +bluff, hearty way he always did. He fairly shouted in my ear. "When +did you hear from the boy? Are you and Mrs. Lauder well?" + +"Aye, fine," I told him. And I told him my last news of John. + +"Splendid!" he said. "Well, it was just to talk to you a minute that +I rang you up, Harry. Good-night--Happy New Year again." + +I went to bed then. But I did not go to sleep for a long time. It was +New Year's, and I lay thinking of my boy, and wondering what this +year would bring him. It was early in the morning before I slept. And +it seemed to me that I had scarce been asleep at all when there came +a pounding at the door, loud enough to rouse the heaviest sleeper +there ever was. + +My heart almost stopped. There must be something serious indeed for +them to be rousing me so early. I rushed to the door, and there was a +porter, holding out a telegram. I took it and tore it open. And I +knew why I had felt as I had the day before. I shall never forget +what I read: + +"Captain John Lauder killed in action, December 28. Official. +War Office." + +It had gone to Mrs. Lauder at Dunoon first, and she had sent it on to +me. That was all it said. I knew nothing of how my boy had died, or +where--save that it was for his country. + +But later I learned that when Sir Thomas Lipton had rung me up he had +intended to condole with me. He had heard on Saturday of my boy's +death. But when he spoke to me, and understood at once, from the tone +of my voice, that I did not know, he had not been able to go on. His +heart was too tender to make it possible for him to be the one to +give me that blow--the heaviest that ever befell me. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +It was on Monday morning, January the first, 1917, that I learned of +my boy's death. And he had been killed the Thursday before! He had +been dead four days before I knew it! And yet--I had known. Let no +one ever tell me again that there is nothing in presentiment. Why +else had I been so sad and uneasy in my mind? Why else, all through +that Sunday, had it been so impossible for me to take comfort in what +was said to cheer me? Some warning had come to me, some sense that +all was not well. + +Realization came to me slowly. I sat and stared at that slip of +paper, that had come to me like the breath of doom. Dead! Dead these +four days! I was never to see the light of his eyes again. I was +never to hear that laugh of his. I had looked on my boy for the last +time. Could it be true? Ah, I knew it was! And it was for this moment +that I had been waiting, that we had all been waiting, ever since we +had sent John away to fight for his country and do his part. I think +we had all felt that it must come. We had all known that it was too +much to hope that he should be one of those to be spared. + +The black despair that had been hovering over me for hours closed +down now and enveloped all my senses. Everything was unreal. For a +time I was quite numb. But then, as I began to realize and to +visualize what it was to mean in my life that my boy was dead there +came a great pain. The iron of realization slowly seared every word +of that curt telegram upon my heart. I said it to myself, over and +over again. And I whispered to myself, as my thoughts took form, over +and over, the one terrible word: "Dead!" + +I felt that for me everything had come to an end with the reading of +that dire message. It seemed to me that for me the board of life was +black and blank. For me there was no past and there could be no +future. Everything had been swept away, erased, by one sweep of the +hand of a cruel fate. Oh, there was a past, though! And it was in +that past that I began to delve. It was made up of every memory I had +of my boy. I fell at once to remembering him. I clutched at every +memory, as if I must grasp them and make sure of them, lest they be +taken from me as well as the hope of seeing him again that the +telegram had forever snatched away. + +I would have been destitute indeed then. It was as if I must fix in +my mind the way he had been wont to look, and recall to my ears every +tone of his voice, every trick of his speech. There was something +left of him that I must keep, I knew, even then, at all costs, if I +was to be able to bear his loss at all. + +There was a vision of him before my eyes. My bonnie Highland laddie, +brave and strong in his kilt and the uniform of his country, going +out to his death with a smile on his face. And there was another +vision that came up now, unbidden. It was a vision of him lying stark +and cold upon the battlefield, the mud on his uniform. And when I saw +that vision I was like a man gone mad and possessed of devils who had +stolen away his faculties. I cursed war as I saw that vision, and the +men who caused war. And when I thought of the Germans who had killed +my boy a terrible and savage hatred swept me, and I longed to go out +there and kill with my bare hands until I had avenged him or they had +killed me too. + +But then I was a little softened. I thought of his mother back in our +wee hoose at Dunoon. And the thought of her, bereft even as I was, +sorrowing, even as I was, and lost in her frightful loneliness, was +pitiful, so that I had but the one desire and wish--to go to her, and +join my tears with hers, that we who were left alone to bear our +grief might bear it together and give one to the other such comfort +as there might be in life for us. And so I fell upon my knees and +prayed, there in my lonely room in the hotel. I prayed to God that he +might give us both, John's mother and myself, strength to bear the +blow that had been dealt us and to endure the sacrifice that He and +our country had demanded of us. + +My friends came to me. They came rushing to me. Never did man have +better friends, and kindlier friends than mine proved themselves to +me on that day of sorrow. They did all that good men and women could +do. But there was no help for me in the ministration of friends. I +was beyond the power of human words to comfort or solace. I was glad +of their kindness, and the memory of it now is a precious one, and +one I would not be without. But at such a time I could not gain from +them what they were eager to give me. I could only bow my head and +pray for strength. + +That night, that New Year's night that I shall never forget, no +matter how long God may let me live, I went north. I took train from +London to Glasgow, and the next day I came to our wee hoose--a sad, +lonely wee hoose it had become now!--on the Clyde at Dunoon, and was +with John's mother. It was the place for me. It was there that I +wanted to be, and it was with her, who must hereafter be all the +world to me. And I was eager to be with her, too, who had given John +to me. Sore as my grief was, stricken as I was, I could comfort her +as no one else could hope to do, and she could do as much for me. We +belonged together. + +I can scarce remember, even for myself, what happened there at +Dunoon. I cannot tell you what I said or what I did, or what words +and what thoughts passed between John's mother and myself. But there +are some things that I do know and that I will tell you. + +Almighty God, to whom we prayed, was kind, and He was pitiful and +merciful. For presently He brought us both a sort of sad composure. +Presently He assuaged our grief a little, and gave us the strength +that we must have to meet the needs of life and the thought of going +on in a world that was darkened by the loss of the boy in whom all +our thoughts and all our hopes had been centred. I thanked God then, +and I thank God now, that I have never denied Him nor taken His name +in vain. + +For God gave me great thoughts about my boy and about his death. +Slowly, gradually, He made me to see things in their true light, and +He took away the sharp agony of my first grief and sorrow, and gave +me a sort of peace. + +John died in the most glorious cause, and he died the most glorious +death, it may be given to a man to die. He died for humanity. He died +for liberty, and that this world in which life must go on, no matter +how many die, may be a better world to live in. He died in a struggle +against the blackest force and the direst threat that has appeared +against liberty and humanity within the memory of man. And were he +alive now, and were he called again to-day to go out for the same +cause, knowing that he must meet death--as he did meet it--he would +go as smilingly and as willingly as he went then. He would go as a +British soldier and a British gentleman, to fight and die for his +King and his country. And I would bid him go. + +I have lived through much since his death. They have not let me take +a rifle or a sword and go into the trenches to avenge him. . . . But +of that I shall tell you later. + +Ah, it was not at once that I felt so! In my heart, in those early +days of grief and sorrow, there was rebellion, often and often. There +were moments when in my anguish I cried out, aloud: "Why? Why? Why +did they have to take John, my boy--my only child?" + +But God came to me, and slowly His peace entered my soul. And He made +me see, as in a vision, that some things that I had said and that I +had believed, were not so. He made me know, and I learned, straight +from Him, that our boy had not been taken from us forever as I had +said to myself so often since that telegram had come. + +He is gone from this life, but he is waiting for us beyond this life. +He is waiting beyond this life and this world of wicked war and +wanton cruelty and slaughter. And we shall come, some day, his mother +and I, to the place where he is waiting for us, and we shall all be +as happy there as we were on this earth in the happy days before the +war. + +My eyes will rest again upon his face. I will hear his fresh young +voice again as he sees me and cries out his greeting. I know what he +will say. He will spy me, and his voice will ring out as it used to +do. "Hello, Dad!" he will call, as he sees me. And I will feel the +grip of his young, strong arms about me, just as in the happy days +before that day that is of all the days of my life the most terrible +and the most hateful in my memory--the day when they told me that he +had been killed. + +That is my belief. That is the comfort that God has given me in my +grief and my sorrow. There is a God. Ah, yes, there is a God! Times +there are, I know, when some of those who look upon the horrid +slaughter of this war, that is going on, hour by hour, feel that +their faith is being shaken by doubts. They think of the sacrifices, +of the blood that is being poured out, of the sufferings of women and +children. And they see the cause that is wrong and foul prospering, +for a little time, and they cannot understand. + +"If there is a God," they whisper to themselves, "why does he permit +a thing so wicked to go on?" + +But there is a God--there is! I have seen the stark horror of war. I +know, as none can know until he has seen it at close quarters, what a +thing war is as it is fought to-day. And I believe as I do believe, +and as I shall believe until the end, because I know God's comfort +and His grace. I know that my boy is surely waiting for me. In +America, now, there are mothers and fathers by the scores of +thousands who have bidden their sons good-by; who water their letters +from France with their tears--who turn white at the sight of a telegram +and tremble at the sudden clamor of a telephone. Ah, I know--I know! +I suffered as they are suffering! And I have this to tell them and to +beg them. They must believe as I believe--then shall they find the +peace and the comfort that I have found. + +So it was that there, on the Clyde, John's mother and I came out of +the blackness of our first grief. We began to be able to talk to one +another. And every day we talked of John. We have never ceased to do +that, his mother and I. We never shall. We may not have him with us +bodily, but his spirit is never absent. And each day we remember some +new thing about him that one of us can call to the other's mind. And +it is as if, when we do that, we bring back some part of him out of +the void. + +Little, trifling memories of when he was a baby, and when he was a +boy, growing up! And other memories, of later days. Often and often +it was the days that were furthest away that we remembered best of +all, and things connected with those days. + +But I had small wish to see others. John's mother was enough for me. +She and the peace that was coming to me on the Clyde. I could not +bear to think of London. I had no plans to make. All that was over. +All that part of my life, I thought, had ended with the news of my +boy's death. I wanted no more than to stay at home on the Clyde and +think of him. My wife and I did not even talk about the future. And +no thing was further from all my thoughts than that I should ever +step upon a stage again. + +What! Go out before an audience and seek to make it laugh? Sing my +songs when my heart was broken? I did not decide not to do it. I did +not so much as think of it as a thing I had to decide about. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +And then one thing and another brought the thought into my mind, so +that I had to face it and tell people how I felt about it. There were +neighbors, wanting to know when I would be about my work again. That +it was that first made me understand that others did not feel as I +was feeling. + +"They're thinking I'll be going back to work again," I told John's +mother. "I canna'!" + +She felt as I did. We could not see, either one of us, in our grief, +how anyone could think that I could begin again where I had left off. + +"I canna'! I will not try!" I told her, again and again. "How can I +tak up again with that old mummery? How can I laugh when my heart is +breaking, and make others smile when the tears are in my eyes?" + +And she thought as I did, that I could not, and that no one should be +asking me. The war had taken much of what I had earned, in one way or +another. I was not so rich as I had been, but there was enough. There +was no need for me to go back to work, so far as our living was +concerned. And so it seemed to be settled between us. Planning we +left for the future. It was no time for us to be making plans. It +mattered little enough to us what might be in store for us. We could +take things as they might come. + +So we bided quiet in our home, and talked of John. And from every +part of the earth and from people in all walks and conditions of life +there began to pour in upon us letters and telegrams of sympathy and +sorrow. I think there were four thousand kindly folk who remembered +us in our sorrow, and let us know that they could think of us in +spite of all the other care and trouble that filled the world in +those days. Many celebrated names were signed to those letters and +telegrams, and there were many, too, from simple folk whose very +names I did not know, who told me that I had given them cheer and +courage from the stage, and so they felt that they were friends of +mine, and must let me know that they were sorry for the blow that had +befallen me. + +Then it came out that I meant to leave the stage. They sent word from +London, at last, to ask when they might look for me to be back at the +Shaftesbury Theatre. And when they found what it was in my mind to do +all my friends began to plead with me and argue with me. They said it +was my duty to myself to go back. + +"You're too young a man to retire, Harry," they said. "What would you +do? How could you pass away your time if you had no work to do? Men +who retire at your age are always sorry: They wither away and die of +dry rot." + +"There'll be plenty for me to be doing," I told them. "I'll not be +idle." + +But still they argued. I was not greatly moved. They were thinking of +me, and their arguments appealed to my selfish interests and needs, +and just then I was not thinking very much about myself. + +And then another sort of argument came to me. People wrote to me, men +and women, who, like me, had lost their sons. Their letters brought +the tears to my eyes anew. They were tender letters, and beautiful +letters, most of them, and letters to make proud and glad, as well as +sad, the heart of the man to whom they were written. I will not copy +those letters down here, for they were written for my eyes, and for +no others. But I can tell you the message that they all bore. + +"Don't desert us now, Harry!" It was so that they put it, one after +another, in those letters. "Ah, Harry--there is so much woe and grief +and pain in the world that you, who can, must do all that is in your +power to make them easier to bear! There are few forces enough in the +world to-day to make us happy, even for a little space. Come back to +us, Harry--make us laugh again!" + +It was when those letters came that, for the first time, I saw that I +had others to consider beside myself, and that it was not only my own +wishes that I might take into account. I talked to my wife, and I told +her of those letters, and there were tears in both our eyes as we +thought about those folks who knew the sorrow that was in our hearts. + +"You must think about them, Harry," she said. + +And so I did think about them. And then I began to find that there +were others still about whom I must think. There were three hundred +people in the cast of "Three Cheers," at the Shaftesbury Theatre, in +London. And I began to hear now that unless I went back the show +would be closed, and all of them would be out of work. At that season +of the year, in the theatrical world, it would be hard for them to +find other engagements, and they were not, most of them, like me, +able to live without the salaries from the show. They wrote to me, +many of them, and begged me to come back. And I knew that it was a +desperate time for anyone to be without employment. I had to think +about those poor souls. And I could not bear the thought that I might +be the means, however innocent, of bringing hardship and suffering +upon others. It might not be my fault, and yet it would lie always +upon my conscience. + +Yet, even with all such thoughts and prayers to move me, I did not +see how I could yield to them and go back. Even after I had come to +the point of being willing to go back if I could, I did not think I +could go through with it. I was afraid I would break down if I tried +to play my part. I talked to Tom Valiance, my brother-in-law. + +"It's very well to talk, Tom," I said. "But they'd ring the curtain +down on me! I can never do it!" + +"You must!" he said. "Harry, you must go back! It's your duty! What +would the boy be saying and having you do? Don't you remember, Harry? +John's last words to his men were--'Carry On!' That's what it is +they're asking you to do, too, Harry, and it's what John would have +wanted. It would be his wish." + +And I knew that he was right. Tom had found the one argument that +could really move me and make me see my duty as the others did. So I +gave in. I wired to the management that I would rejoin the cast of +"Three Cheers," and I took the train to London. And as I rode in the +train it seemed to me that the roar of the wheels made a refrain, and +I could hear them pounding out those two words, in my boy's voice: +"Carry On!" + +But how hard it was to face the thought of going before an audience +again! And especially in such circumstances. There were to be gayety +and life and light and sparkle all about me. There were to be +lassies, in their gay dresses, and the merriest music in London. And +my part was to be merry, too, and to make the great audience laugh +that I would see beyond the footlights. And I thought of the Merryman +in The Yeomen of the Guard, and that I must be a little like him, +though my cause for grief was different. + +But I had given my word, and though I longed, again and again, as I +rode toward London, and as the time drew near for my performance, to +back out, there was no way that I could do so. And Tom Valiance did +his best to cheer me and hearten me, and relieve my nervousness. I +have never been so nervous before. Not since I made my first +appearance before an audience have I been so near to stage fright. + +I would not see anyone that night, when I reached the theatre. I +stayed in my dressing-room, and Tom Valiance stayed with me, and kept +everyone who tried to speak with me away. There were good folk, and +kindly folk, friends of mine in the company, who wanted to shake my +hand and tell me how they felt for me, but he knew that it was better +for them not to see me yet, and he was my bodyguard. + +"It's no use, Tom," I said to him, again and again, after I was dressed +and in my make up. I was cold first, and then hot. And I trembled in +every limb. "They'll have to ring the curtain down on me." + +"You'll be all right, Harry," he said. "So soon as you're out there! +Remember, they're all your friends!" + +But he could not comfort me. I felt sure that it was a foolish thing +for me to try to do; that I could not go through with it. And I was +sorry, for the thousandth time, that I had let them persuade me to +make the effort. + +A call boy came at last to warn me that it was nearly time for my +first entrance. I went with Tom into the wings, and stood there, +waiting. I was pale under my make up, and I was shaking and trembling +like a baby. And even then I wanted to cry off. But I remembered my +boy, and those last words of his--"Carry On!" I must not fail him +without at least trying to do what he would have wanted me to do! + +My entrance was with a lilting little song called "I Love My Jean." +And I knew that in a moment my cue would be given, and I would hear +the music of that song beginning. I was as cold as if I had been in +an icy street, although it was hot. I thought of the two thousand +people who were waiting for me beyond the footlights--the house was a +big one, and it was packed full that night. + +"I can't, Tom--I can't!" I cried. + +But he only smiled, and gave me a little push as my cue came and the +music began. I could scarcely hear it; it was like music a great +distance off, coming very faintly to my ears. And I said a prayer, +inside. I asked God to be good to me once more, and to give me +strength, and to bear me through this ordeal that I was facing, as he +had borne me through before. And then I had to step into the full +glare of the great lights. + +I felt as if I were in a dream. The people were unreal--stretching +away from me in long, sloping rows, their white faces staring at me +from the darkness beyond the great lights. And there was a little +ripple that ran through them as I went out, as if a great many +people, all at the same moment, had caught their breath. + +I stood and faced them, and the music sounded in my ears. For just a +moment they were still. And then they were shaken by a mighty roar. +They cheered and cheered and cheered. They stood up and waved to me. +I could hear their voices rising, and cries coming to me, with my own +name among them. + +"Bravo, Harry!" I heard them call. And then there were more cheers, +and a great clapping of hands. And I have been told that everywhere +in that great audience men and women were crying, and that the tears +were rolling down their cheeks without ever an attempt by any of them +to hide them or to check them. It was the most wonderful and the most +beautiful demonstration I have ever seen, in all the years that I +have been upon the stage. Many and many a time audiences have been +good to me. They have clapped me and they have cheered me, but never +has an audience treated me as that one did. I had to use every bit of +strength and courage that I had to keep from breaking down. + +To this day I do not know how I got through with that first song that +night. I do not even know whether I really sang it. But I think that, +somehow, blindly, without knowing what I was doing, I did get +through; I did sing it to the end. Habit, the way that I was used to +it, I suppose, helped me to carry on. And when I left the stage the +whole company, it seemed to me, was waiting for me. They were crying +and laughing, hysterically, and they crowded around me, and kissed +me, and hugged me, and wrung my hand. + +It seemed that the worst of my ordeal was over. But in the last act I +had to face another test. + +There was a song for me in that last act that was the great song in +London that season. I have sung it all over America since then "The +Laddies Who Fought and Won." It has been successful everywhere--that +song has been one of the most popular I have ever sung. But it was a +cruel song for me to sing that night! + +It was the climax of the last act and of the whole piece. In "Three +Cheers" soldiers were brought on each night to be on the stage behind +me when I sang that song. They were from the battalion of the Scots +Guards in London, and they were real soldiers, in uniform. Different +men were used each night, and the money that was paid to the Tommies +for their work went into the company fund of the men who appeared, +and helped to provide them with comforts and luxuries. And the war +office was glad of the arrangement, too, for it was a great song to +stimulate recruiting. + +There were two lines in the refrain that I shall never forget. And it +was when I came to those two lines that night that I did, indeed, +break down. Here they are: + + "When we all gather round the old fireside + And the fond mother kisses her son--" + +Were they not cruel words for me to have to sing, who knew that his +mother could never kiss my son again? They brought it all back to me! +My son was gone--he would never come back with the laddies who had +fought and won! + +For a moment I could not go on. I was choking. The tears were in my +Eyes, and my throat was choked with sobs. But the music went on, and +the chorus took up the song, and between the singers and the orchestra +they covered the break my emotion had made. And in a little space I was +able to go on with the next verse, and to carry on until my part in the +show was done for the night. But I still wondered how it was that they +had not had to ring down the curtain upon me, and that Tom Valiance and +the others had been right and I the one that was wrong! + +Ah, weel, I learned that night what many and many another Briton had +learned, both at home and in France--that you can never know what you +can do until you have to find it out! Yon was the hardest task ever I +had to undertake, but for my boy's sake, and because they had made me +understand that it was what he would have wanted me to do, I got +through with it. + +They rose to me again, and cheered and cheered, after I had finished +singing "The Laddies Who Fought and Won." And there were those who +called to me for a speech, but so much I had to deny them, good +though they had been to me, and much as I loved them for the way they +had received me. I had no words that night to thank them, and I could +not have spoken from that stage had my life depended upon it. I could +only get through, after my poor fashion, with my part in the show. + +But the next night I did pull myself together, and I was able to say +a few words to the audience--thanks that were simply and badly put, +it may be, but that came from the bottom of my overflowing heart. + + + +CHAPTER X + +I had not believed it possible. But there I was, not only back at +work, back upon the stage to which I thought I had said good-by +forever, but successful as I had thought I could never be again. And +so I decided that I would remain until the engagement of "Three +Cheers" closed. But my mind was made up to retire after that +engagement. I felt that I had done all I could, and that it was time +for me to retire, and to cease trying to make others laugh. There was +no laughter in my heart, and often and often, that season, as I +cracked my merriest jokes, my heart was sore and heavy and the tears +were in my eyes. + +But slowly a new sort of courage came to me. I was able to meet my +friends again, and to talk to them, of myself and of my boy. I met +brother officers of his, and I heard tales of him that gave me a new +and even greater pride in him than I had known before. And my friends +begged me to carry on in every way. + +"You were doing a great work and a good work, Harry," they said. "The +boy would want you to carry on. Do not drop all the good you were doing." + +I knew that they were right. To sit alone and give way to my grief +was a selfish thing to do at such a time. If there was work for me to +do, still, it was my duty to try to do it, no matter how greatly I +would have preferred to rest quiet. At this time there was great need +of making the people of Britain understand the need of food +conservation, and so I began to go about London, making speeches on +that subject wherever people could be gathered together to listen to +me. They told me I did some good. And at least, I tried. + +And before long I was glad, indeed, that I had listened to the +counsel of my friends and had not given way to my selfish desire to +nurse my grief in solitude and silence. For I realized that there was +a real work for me to do. Those folk who had begged me to do my part +in lightening the gloom of Britain had been right. There was so much +sorrow and grief in the land that it was the duty of all who could +dispel it, if even for a little space, to do what they could. I +remembered that poem of Ella Wheeler Wilcox--"Laugh and the World +Laughs With You!" And so I tried to laugh, and to make the part of +the world that I chanced to be in laugh with me. For I knew there was +weeping and sorrowing enough. + +And all the time I felt that the spirit of my boy was with me, and +that he knew what I was doing, and why, and was glad, and that he +understood that if I laughed it was not because I thought less often +of him, or missed him less keenly and bitterly than I had done from +the very beginning. + +There was much praise for my work from high officials, and it made me +proud and glad to know that the men who were at the head of Britain's +effort in the war thought I was being of use. One time I spoke with +Mr. Balfour, the former Prime Minister, at Drury Lane Theatre to one +of the greatest war gatherings that was ever held in London. + +And always and everywhere there were the hospitals, full of the +laddies who had been brought home from France. Ah, but they were +pitiful, those laddies who had fought, and won, and been brought back +to be nursed back to the life they had been so bravely willing to lay +down for their country! But it was hard to look at them, and know how +they were suffering, and to go through with the task I had set myself +of cheering them and comforting them in my own way! There were times +when it was all I could do to get through with my program. + +They never complained. They were always bright and cheerful, no +matter how terrible their wounds might be; no matter what sacrifices +they had made of eyes and limbs. There were men in those hospitals +who knew that they were going out no more than half the men they had +been. And yet they were as brave and careless of themselves as if +their wounds had been but trifles. I think the greatest exhibition of +courage and nerve the world has ever seen was to be found in those +hospitals in London and, indeed, all over Britain, where those +wonderful lads kept up their spirits always, though they knew they +could never again be sound in body. + +Many and many of them there were who knew that they could never walk +again the shady lanes of their hameland or the little streets of +their hame towns! Many and many more there were who knew that, even +after the bandages were taken from about their eyes, they would never +gaze again upon the trees and the grass and the flowers growing upon +their native hillsides; that never again could they look upon the +faces of their loved ones. They knew that everlasting darkness was +their portion upon this earth. + +But one and all they talked and laughed and sang! And it was there +among the hospitals, that I came to find true courage and good cheer. +It was not there that I found talk of discouragement, and longing for +any early peace, even though the final victory that could alone bring +a real peace and a worthy peace had not been won. No--not in the +hospitals could I find and hear such talk as that! For that I had to +listen to those who had not gone--who had not had the courage and the +nerve to offer all they had and all they were and go through that +hell of hells that is modern war! + +I saw other hospitals besides the ones in London. After a time, when +I was very tired, and far from well, I went to Scotland for a space +to build myself up and get some rest. And in the far north I went +fishing on the River Dee, which runs through the Durrie estate. And +while I was there the Laird heard of it. And he sent word to tell me +of a tiny hospital hard by where a guid lady named Mrs. Baird was +helping to nurse disabled men back to health and strength. He asked +me would I no call upon the men and try to give them a little cheer. +And I was glad to hear of the chance to help. + +I laid down my rod forthwith, for here was better work than fishing-- +and in my ain country. They told me the way that I should go, and +that this Mrs. Baird had turned a little school house into a +convalescent home, and was doing a fine and wonderful work for the +laddies she had taken in. So I set out to find it, and I walked along +a country road to come to it. + +Soon I saw a man, strong and hale, as it seemed, pushing a wheel +chair along the road toward me. And in the chair sat a man, and I +could see at once that he had lost the use of his legs--that he was +paralyzed from the waist down. It was the way he called to him who +was pushing him that made me tak notice. + +"Go to the right, mon!" he would call. Or, a moment later, "To the +left now." + +And then they came near to the disaster. The one who was pushing was +heading straight for the side of the road, and the one in the chair +bellowed out to him: + +"Whoa there!" he called. "Mon--ye're taking me into the ditch! Where +would ye be going with me, anyway?" + +And then I understood. The man who was pushing was blind! They had +but the one pair of eyes and the one pair of legs between the two of +them, and it was so that they contrived to go out together without +taking help from anyone else! And they were both as cheerful as wee +laddies out for a lark. It was great sport for them. And it was they +who gave me my directions to get to Mrs. Baird's. + +They disputed a little about the way. The blind man, puir laddie, +thought he knew. And he did not--not quite. But he corrected the man +who could see but could not walk. + +"It's the wrong road you're giving the gentleman," he said. "It's the +second turn he should be taking, not the first." + +And the other would not argue with him. It was a kindly thing, the +way he kept quiet, and did but wink at me, that I might know the +truth. He trusted me to understand and to know why he was acting as +he was, and I blessed him in my heart for his thoughtfulness. And so +I thanked them, and passed on, and reached Mrs. Baird's, and found a +royal welcome there, and when they asked me if I would sing for the +soldiers, and I said it was for that that I had come, there were +tears in Mrs. Baird's eyes. And so I gave a wee concert there, and +sang my songs, and did my best to cheer up those boys. + +Ah, my puir, brave Scotland--my bonnie little Scotland! + +No part of all the United Kingdom, and, for that matter, no part of +the world, has played a greater part, in proportion to its size and +its ability, than has Scotland in this war for humanity against the +black force that has attacked it. Nearly a million men has Scotland +sent to the army--out of a total population of five million! One in +five of all her people have gone. No country in the world has ever +matched that record. Ah, there were no slackers in Scotland! And they +are still going--they are still going! As fast as they are old +enough, as fast as restrictions are removed, so that men are taken +who were turned back at first by the recruiting officers, as fast as +men see to it that some provision is made for those they must leave +behind them, they are putting on the King's uniform and going out +against the Hun. My country, my ain Scotland, is not great in area. +It is not a rich country in worldly goods or money. But it is big +with a bigness beyond measurement, it is rich beyond the wildest +dreams of avarice, in patriotism, in love of country, and in bravery. + +We have few young men left in Scotland. It is rarely indeed that in a +Scottish village, in a glen, even in a city, you see a young man in +these days. Only the very old are left, and the men of middle age. +And you know why the young men you see are there. They cannot go, +because, although their spirit is willing their flesh is too weak to +let them go, for one reason or another. Factory and field and forge-- +all have been stripped to fill the Scottish regiments and keep them +at their full strength. And in Scotland, as in England, women have +stepped in to fill the places their men have left vacant. This war is +not to be fought by men alone. Women have their part to play, and +they are playing it nobly, day after day. The women of Scotland have +seen their duty; they have heard their country's call, and they have +answered it. + +You will find it hard to discover anyone in domestic service to-day +in Scotland. The folk who used to keep servants sent them packing +long since, to work where they would be of more use to their country. +The women of each household are doing the work about the house, +little though they may have been accustomed to such tasks in the days +of peace. And they glory and take pride in the knowledge that they +are helping to fill a place in the munitions factories or in some +other necessary war work. + +[ILLUSTRATION: "Bang! went sixpence." HARRY LAUDER BUYING HIS BIT OF +WHITE HEATHER (See Lauder04.jpg)] + +Do not look along the Scottish roads for folk riding in motor cars +for pleasure. Indeed, you will waste your time if you look for +pleasure-making of any sort in Scotland to-day. Scotland has gone +back to her ancient business of war, and she is carrying it on in the +most businesslike way, sternly and relentlessly. But that is true all +over the United Kingdom; I do not claim that Scotland takes the war +more seriously than the rest of Britain. But I do think that she has +set an example by the way she has flung herself, tooth and nail, into +the mighty task that confronts us all--all of us allies who are +leagued against the Hun and his plan to conquer the world and make it +bow its neck in submission under his iron heel. + +Let me tell you how Scotland takes this war. Let me show you the +homecoming of a Scottish soldier, back from the trenches on leave. +Why, he is received with no more ceremony than if he were coming home +from his day's work! + +Donald--or Jock might be his name, or Andy!--steps from the train at +his old hame town. He is fresh from the mud of the Flanders trenches, +and all his possessions and his kit are on his back, so that he is +more like a beast of burden than the natty creature old tradition +taught us to think a soldier must always be. On his boots there are +still dried blobs of mud from some hole in France that is like a +crater in hell. His uniform will be pretty sure to be dirty, too, and +torn, and perhaps, if you looked closely at it, you would see stains +upon it that you might not be far wrong in guessing to be blood. + +Leave long enough to let him come home to Scotland--a long road it is +from France to Scotland these days!--has been a rare thing for Jock. +He will have been campaigning a long time to earn it--months +certainly, and maybe even years. Perhaps he was one of these who went +out first. He may have been mentioned in dispatches: there may be a +distinguished conduct medal hidden about him somewhere--worth all the +iron crosses the Kaiser ever gave! He has seen many a bloody field, +be sure of that. He has heard the sounding of the gas alarm, and +maybe got a whiff of the dirty poison gas the Huns turned loose +against our boys. He has looked Death in the face so often that he +has grown used to him. But now he is back in Scotland, safe and +sound, free from battle and the work of the trenches for a space, +home to gain new strength for his next bout with Fritz across the +water. + +When he gets off the train Jock looks about him, from force of habit. +But no one has come to the station to meet him, and he looks as if +that gave him neither surprise nor concern. For a minute, perhaps, he +will look around him, wondering, I think, that things are so much as +they were, fixing in his mind the old familiar scenes that have +brought him cheer so often in black, deadly nights in the trenches or +in lonely billets out there in France. And then, quietly, and as if +he were indeed just home from some short trip, he shifts his pack, so +that it lies comfortably across his back, and trudges off. There +would be cabs around the station, but it would not come into Jock's +mind to hail one of the drivers. He has been used to using Shank's +Mare in France when he wanted to go anywhere, and so now he sets off +quietly, with his long, swinging soldier's stride. + +As he walks along he is among scenes familiar to him since his +boyhood. You house, you barn, yon wooded rise against the sky are +landmarks for him. And he is pretty sure to meet old friends. They +nod to him, pleasantly, and with a smile, but there is no excitement, +no strangeness, in their greeting. For all the emotion they show, +these folk to whom he has come back, as from the grave, they might +have seen him yesterday, and the day before that, and the war never +have been at all. And Jock thinks nothing of it that they are not +more excited about him. You and I may be thinking of Jock as a hero, +but that is not his idea about himself. He is just a Tommy, home on +leave from France--one of a hundred thousand, maybe. And if he +thought at all about the way his home folk greeted him it would be +just so--that he could not expect them to be making a fuss about one +soldier out of so many. And, since he, Jock, is not much excited, not +much worked up, because he is seeing these good folk again, he does +not think it strange that they are not more excited about the sight +of him. It would be if they did make a fuss over him, and welcome him +loudly, that he would think it strange! + +And at last he comes to his own old home. He will stop and look +around a bit. Maybe he has seen that old house a thousand times out +there, tried to remember every line and corner of it. And maybe, as +he looks down the quiet village street, he is thinking of how +different France was. And, deep down in his heart, Jock is glad that +everything is as it was, and that nothing has been changed. He could +not tell you why; he could not put his feeling into words. But it is +there, deep down, and the truer and the keener because it is so deep. +Ah, Jock may take it quietly, and there may be no way for him to show +his heart, but he is glad to be home! + +And at his gate will come, as a rule, Jock's first real greeting. A +dog, grown old since his departure, will come out, wagging his tail, +and licking the soldier's hand. And Jock will lean down, and give his +old dog a pat. If the dog had not come he would have been surprised +and disappointed. And so, glad with every fibre of his being, Jock +goes in, and finds father and mother and sisters within. They look up +at his coming, and their happiness shines for a moment in their eyes. +But they are not the sort of people to show their emotions or make a +fuss. Mother and girls will rise and kiss him, and begin to take his +gear, and his father will shake him by the hand. + +"Well," the father will ask, "how are you getting along, lad?" + +And--"All right," he will answer. That is the British soldier's +answer to that question, always and everywhere. + +Then he sits down, happy and at rest, and lights his pipe, maybe, and +looks about the old room which holds so many memories for him. And +supper will be ready, you may be sure. They will not have much to +say, these folk of Jock's, but if you look at his face as dish after +dish is set before him, you will understand that this is a feast that +has been prepared for him. They may have been going without all sorts +of good things themselves, but they have contrived, in some fashion, +to have them all for Jock. All Scotland has tightened its belt, and +done its part, in that fashion, as in every other, toward the winning +of the war. But for the soldiers the best is none too good. And +Jock's folk would rather make him welcome so, by proof that takes no +words, than by demonstrations of delight and of affection. + +As he eats, they gather round him at the board, and they tell him all +the gossip of the neighborhood. He does not talk about the war, and, +if they are curious--probably they are not!--they do not ask him +questions. They think that he wants to forget about the war and the +trenches and the mud, and they are right. And so, after he has eaten +his fill, he lights his pipe again, and sits about. And maybe, as it +grows dark, he takes a bit walk into town. He walks slowly, as if he +is glad that for once he need not be in a hurry, and he stops to look +into shop windows as if he had never seen their stocks before, though +you may be sure that, in a Scottish village, he has seen everything +they have to offer hundreds of times. + +He will meet friends, maybe, and they will stop and nod to him. And +perhaps one of six will stop longer. + +"How are you getting on, Jock?" will be the question. + +"All right!" Jock will say. And he will think the question rather +fatuous, maybe. If he were not all right, how should he be there? But +if Jock had lost both legs, or an arm, or if he had been blinded, +that would still be his answer. Those words have become a sort of +slogan for the British army, that typify its spirit. + +Jock's walk is soon over, and he goes home, by an old path that is +known to him, every foot of it, and goes to bed in his own old bed. +He has not broken into the routine of the household, and he sees no +reason why he should. And the next day it is much the same for him. +He gets up as early as he ever did, and he is likely to do a few odd +bits of work that his father has not had time to come to. He talks +with his mother and the girls of all sorts of little, commonplace +things, and with his father he discusses the affairs of the +community. And in the evening he strolls down town again, and +exchanges a few words with friends, and learns, perhaps, of boys who +haven't been lucky enough to get home on leave--of boys with whom he +grew up, who have gone west. + +So it goes on for several days, each day the same. Jock is quietly +happy. It is no task to entertain him: he does not want to be +entertained. The peace and quiet of home are enough for him; they are +change enough from the turmoil of the front and the ceaseless grind +of the life in the army in France. + +And then Jock's leave nears its end, and it is time for him to go +back. He tells them, and he makes his few small preparations. They +will have cleaned his kit for him, and mended some of his things that +needed mending. And when it is time for him to go they help him on +with his pack and he kisses his mother and the girls good-by, and +shakes hands with his father. + +"Well, good-by," Jock says. He might be going to work in a factory a +few miles off. "I'll be all right. Good-by, now. Don't you cry, now, +mother, and you, Jeannie and Maggie. Don't you fash yourselves about +me. I'll be back again. And if I shouldn't come back--why, I'll be +all right." + +So he goes, and they stand looking after him, and his old dog wonders +why he is going, and where, and makes a move to follow him, maybe. +But he marches off down the street, alone, never looking back, and is +waiting when the train comes. It will be full of other Jocks and +Andrews and Tams, on their way back to France, like him, and he will +nod to some he knows as he settles down in the carriage. + +And in just two days Jock will have traveled the length of England, +and crossed the channel, and ridden up to the front. He will have +reported himself, and have been ordered, with his company, into the +trenches. And on the third night, had you followed him, you might see +him peering over the parapet at the lines of the Hun, across No Man's +Land, and listening to the whine of bullets and the shriek of shells +over his head, with a star shell, maybe, to throw a green light upon +him for a moment. + +So it is that a warrior comes and that a warrior goes in a land where +war is war; in a land where war has become the business of all every +day, and has settled down into a matter of routine. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +I could not, much as I should in many ways have liked to do so, +prolong my stay in Scotland. The peace and the restfulness of the +Highlands, the charm of the heather and the hills, the long, lazy +days with my rod, whipping some favorite stream--ah, they made me +happy for a moment, but they could not make me forget! My duty called +me back, and the thought of war, and suffering, and there were +moments when it seemed to me that nothing could keep me from plunging +again into the work I had set out to do. + +In those days I was far too restless to be taking my ease at home, in +my wee hoose at Dunoon. A thousand activities called me. The rest had +been necessary; I had had to admit that, and to obey my doctor, for I +had been feeling the strain of my long continued activity, piled up, +as it was, on top of my grief and care. And yet I was eager to be off +and about my work again. + +I did not want to go back to the same work I had been doing. No! I +was still a young man. I was younger than men and officers who were +taking their turn in the trenches. I was but forty-six years old, and +there was a lot of life and snap in the old dog yet! My life had been +rightly lived. As a young man I had worked in a pit, ye ken, and that +had given me a strength in my back and my legs that would have served +me well in the trenches. War, these days, means hard work as well as +fighting--more, indeed. War is a business, a great industry, now. +There is all manner of work that must be done at the front and right +behind it. Aye, and I was eager to be there and to be doing my share +of it--and not for the first time. + +Many a time, and often, I had broached my idea of being allowed to +enlist, e'en before the Huns killed my boy. But they would no listen +to me. They told me, each time, that there was more and better work +for me to do at hame in Britain, spurring others on, cheering them +when they came back maimed and broken, getting the country to put its +shoulder to the wheel when it came to subscribing to the war loans +and all the rest of it. And it seemed to me that it was not for me to +decide; that I must obey those who were better in a position to judge +than I could be. + +I went down south to England, and I talked again of enlisting and +trying to get a crack at those who had killed my boy. And again my +friends refused to listen to me. + +"Why, Harry," they said to me--and not my own friends, only, but men +highly placed enough to make me know that I must pay heed to what +they said--"you must not think of it! If you enlisted, or if we got +you a commission, you'd be but one man out there. Here you're worth +many men--a brigade, or a division, maybe. You are more use to us +than many men who go out there to fight. You do great things toward +winning the war every day. No, Harry, there is work for every man in +Britain to do, and you have found yours and are doing it." + +I was not content, though, even when I seemed to agree with them. I +did try to argue, but it was no use. And still I felt that it was no +time for a man to be playing and to be giving so much of his time to +making others gay. It was well for folk to laugh, and to get their +minds off the horror of war for a little time. Well I knew! Aye, and +I believed that I was doing good, some good at least, and giving +cheer to some puir laddies who needed it sorely. But--weel, it was no +what I wanted to be doing when my country was fighting for her life! +I made up my mind, slowly, what it was that I wanted to do that would +fit in with the ideas and wishes of those whose word I was bound to +heed and that would still come closer than what I was doing to meet +my own desires. + +Every day, nearly, then, I was getting letters from the front. They +came from laddies whom I'd helped to make up their minds that they +belonged over yon, where the men were. Some were from boys who came +from aboot Dunoon. I'd known those laddies since they were bits o' +bairns, most of them. And then there were letters--and they touched +me as much and came as close home as any of them--from boys who were +utter strangers to me, but who told me they felt they knew me because +they'd seen me on the stage, or because their phonograph, maybe, +played some of my records, and because they'd read that my boy had +shared their dangers and given his life, as they were ready, one and +all, to do. + +And those letters, nearly all, had the same refrain. They wanted me. +They wanted me to come to them, since they couldn't be coming to me. + +"Come on out here and see us and sing for us, Harry," they'd write to +me. "It'd be a fair treat to see your mug and hear you singing about +the wee hoose amang the heather or the bonnie, bonnie lassie!" + +How could a man get such a plea as that and not want to do what those +laddies asked? How could he think of the great deal they were doing +and not want to do the little bit they asked of him? But it was no a +simple matter, ye'll ken! I could not pack a bag and start for France +from Charing Cross or Victoria as I might have done--and often did-- +before the war. No one might go to France unless he had passports and +leave from the war office, and many another sort of arrangement there +was to make. But I set wheels in motion. + +Just to go to France to sing for the boys would have been easy +enough. They told me that at once. + +"What? Harry Lauder wants to go to France to sing for the soldiers? +He shall--whenever he pleases! Tell him we'll be glad to send him!" + +So said the war office. But I knew what they meant. They meant for me +to go to one or more of the British bases and give concerts. There +were troops moving in and out of the bases all the time; men who'd +been in the trenches or in action in an offensive and were back in +rest billets, or even further back, were there in their thousands. +But it was the real front I was eager to reach. I wanted to be where +my boy had been, and to see his grave. I wanted to sing for the +laddies who were bearing the brunt of the big job over there--while +they were bearing it. + +And that no one had done. Many of our leading actors and singers and +other entertainers were going back and forth to France all the time. +Never a week went by but they were helping to cheer up the boys at +the bases. It was a grand work they were doing, and the boys were +grateful to them, and all Britain should share that gratitude. But it +was a wee bit more that I wanted to be doing, and there was the rub. + +I wanted to go up to the battle lines themselves and to sing for the +boys who were in the thick of the struggle with the Hun. I wanted to +give a concert in a front-line trench where the Huns could hear me, +if they cared to listen. I wanted them to learn once more the lesson +we could never teach them often enough--the lesson of the spirit of +the British army, that could go into battle with a laugh on its lips. + +But at first I got no encouragement at all when I told what it was in +my mind to do. My friends who had influence shook their heads. + +"I'm afraid it can't be managed, Harry," they told me. "It's never +been done." + +I told them what I believed myself, and what I have often thought of +when things looked hard and prospects were dark. I told them +everything had to be done for the first time sometime, and I begged +them not to give up the effort to win my way for me. And so I knew +that when they told me no one had done it before it wasn't reason +enough why I shouldn't do it. And I made up my mind that I would be +the pioneer in giving concerts under fire if that should turn out to +be a part of the contract. + +But I could not argue. I could only say what it was that I wanted to +do, and wait the pleasure of those whose duty it was to decide. I +couldn't tell the military authorities where they must send me. It +was for me to obey when they gave their orders, and to go wherever +they thought I would do the most good. I would not have you thinking +that I was naming conditions, and saying I would go where I pleased +or bide at hame! That was not my way. All I could do was to hope that +in the end they would see matters as I did and so decide to let me +have my way. But I was ready for my orders, whatever they might be. + +There was one thing I wanted, above all others, to do when I got to +France, and so much I said. I wanted to meet the Highland Brigade, +and see the bonnie laddies in their kilts as the Huns saw them--the +Huns, who called them the Ladies from Hell, and hated them worse than +they hated any troops in the whole British army. + +Ha' ye heard the tale of the Scotsman and the Jew? Sandy and Ikey +they were, and they were having a disputatious argument together. +Each said he could name more great men of his race who were famous in +history than the other could. And they argued, and nearly came to +blows, and were no further along until they thought of making a bet. +An odd bet it was. For each great name that Sandy named of a Scot +whom history had honored he was to pull out one of Ikey's hairs, and +Ikey was to have the same privilege. + +"Do ye begin!" said Sandy. + +"Moses!" said They, and pulled. + +"Bobbie Burns!" cried Sandy, and returned the compliment. + +"Abraham!" said Ikey, and pulled again. "Ouch--Duggie Haig!" said +Sandy. + +And then Ikey grabbed a handful of hairs at once. + +"Joseph and his brethren!" he said, gloating a bit as he watched the +tears starting from Sandy's eyes at the pain of losing so many good +hairs at once. + +"So it's pulling them out in bunches ye are!" said Sandy. "Ah, well, +man" And he reached with both his hands for Ikey's thatch. + +"The Hieland Brigade!" he roared, and pulled all the hairs his two +hands would hold! + +Ah, weel, there are sad thoughts that come to me, as well as proud +and happy ones, when I think of the bonnie kilted laddies who fought +and died so nobly out there against the Hun! They were my own +laddies, those, and it was with them and amang them that my boy went +to his death. It was amang them I would find, I thought, those who +could tell me more than I knew of how he had died, and of how he had +lived before he died. And I thought the boys of the brigade would be +glad to see me and to hear my songs--songs of their hames and their +ain land, auld Scotland. And so I used what influence I had, and did +not think it wrong to employ at such a time, and in such a cause. For +I knew that if they sent me to the Hieland Brigade they would be +sending me to the front of the front line--for that was where I would +have to go seeking the Hieland laddies! + +I waited as patiently as I could. And then one day I got my orders! I +was delighted, for the thing they had told me could not be done had +actually been arranged for me. I was asked to get ready to go to +France to entertain the soldiers, and it was the happiest day I had +known since I had heard of my boy's death. + +There was not much for me to do in the way of making ready. The whole +trip, of course, would be a military one. I might be setting out as a +minstrel for France, but every detail of my arrangements had to be +made in accordance with military rules, and once I reached France I +would be under the orders of the army in every movement I might make. +All that was carefully explained to me. + +But still there were things for me to think about and to arrange. I +wanted some sort of accompaniment for my songs, and how to get it +puzzled me for a time. But there was a firm in London that made +pianos that heard of my coming trip, and solved that problem for me. +They built, and they presented to me, the weest piano ever you saw--a +piano so wee that it could be carried in an ordinary motor car. Only +five octaves it had, but it was big enough, and sma' enough at once. +I was delighted with it, and so were all who saw it. It weighed only +about a hundred and fifty pounds--less than even a middling stout +man! And it was cunningly built, so that no space at all was wasted. +Mrs. Lauder, when she saw it, called it cute, and so did every other +woman who laid eyes upon it. It was designed to be carried on the +grid of a motor car--and so it was, for many miles of shell-torn +roads! + +When I was sure of my piano I thought of another thing it would be +well for me to take with me. And so I spent a hundred pounds--five +hundred American dollars--for cigarettes. I knew they would be welcome +everywhere I went. It makes no matter how many cigarettes we send to +France, there will never be enough. My friends thought I was making a +mistake in taking so many; they were afraid they would make matters +hard when it came to transportation, and reminded me that I faced +difficulties in that respect in France it was nearly impossible for us +at home in Britain to visualize at all. But I had my mind and my heart +set on getting those fags--a cigarette is a fag to every British +soldier--to my destination with me. Indeed, I thought they would mean +more to the laddies out there than I could hope to do myself! + +I was not to travel alone. My tour was to include two traveling +companions of distinction and fame. One was James Hogge, M.P., member +from East Edinburgh, who was eager, as so many members of Parliament +were, to see for himself how things were at the front. James Hogge +was one of the members most liked by the soldiers. He had worked hard +for them, and gained--and well earned--much fame by the way he +struggled with the matter of getting the right sort of pensions for +the laddies who were offering their lives. + +The other distinguished companion I was to have was an old and good +friend of mine, the Reverend George Adam, then a secretary to the +Minister of Munitions. He lived in Ilford, a suburb of London, then, +but is now in Montreal, Canada. I was glad of the opportunity to travel +with both these men, for I knew that one's traveling companions, on +such a tour, were of the utmost importance in determining its success +or failure, and I could not have chosen a better pair, had the choice +been left to me--which, of course, it was not. + +There we were, you see--the Reverend George Adam, Harry Lauder and +James Hogge, M.P. And no sooner did the soldiers hear of the +combination than our tour was named "The Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., +Tour" was what we were called! And that absurd name stuck to us +through our whole journey, in France, up and down the battle line, +and until we came home to England and broke up! + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Up to that time I had thought I knew a good deal about the war. I had +had much news from my boy. I had talked, I think, to as many returned +soldiers as any man in Britain. I had seen much of the backwash and +the wretched aftermath of war. Ah, yes, I thought I knew more than +most folk did of what war meant! But until my tour began, as I see +now, easily enough, I knew nothing--literally nothing at all! + +There are towns and ports in Britain that are military areas. One may +not enter them except upon business, the urgency of which has been +established to the satisfaction of the military authorities. One must +have a permit to live in them, even if they be one's home town. These +towns are vital to the war and its successful prosecution. + +Until one has seen a British port of embarkation in this war one has +no real beginning, even, of a conception of the task the war has +imposed upon Britain. It was so with me, I know, and since then other +men have told me the same thing. There the army begins to pour into +the funnel, so to speak, that leads to France and the front. There +all sorts of lines are brought together, all sorts of scattered +activities come to a focus. There is incessant activity, day and +night. + +It was from Folkestone, on the southeast coast, that the Reverend +Harry Lauder, M.P. Tour was to embark. And we reached Folkestone on +June 7, 1917. + +Folkestone, in time of peace, was one of the greatest of the Southern +watering places. It is a lovely spot. Great hotels line the Leas, a +glorious promenade, along the top of chalk cliffs, that looks out +over the Channel. In the distance one fancies one may see the coast +of France, beyond the blue water. + +There is green grass everywhere behind the beach. Folkestone has a +miniature harbor, that in time of peace gave shelter to the fishing +fleet and to the channel steamers that plied to and from Boulogne, in +France. The harbor is guarded by stone jetties. It has been greatly +enlarged now--so has all Folkestone, for that matter. But I am +remembering the town as it was in peace! + +There was no pleasanter and kindlier resort along that coast. The +beach was wonderful, and all summer long it attracted bathers and +children at play. Bathing machines lined the beach, of course, within +the limits of the town; those queer, old, clumsy looking wagons, with +a dressing cabin on wheels, that were drawn up and down according to +the tide, so that bathers might enter the water from them directly. +There, as in most British towns, women bathed at one part of the +beach, men at the other, and all in the most decorous and modest of +costumes. + +But at Folkestone, in the old days of peace, about a mile from the +town limits, there was another stretch of beach where all the gay +folk bathed--men and women together. And there the costumes were such +as might be seen at Deauville or Ostend, Etretat or Trouville. Highly +they scandalized the good folk of Folkestone, to be sure--but little +was said, and nothing was done, for, after all those were the folk +who spent the money! They dressed in white tents that gleamed against +the sea, and a pretty splash of color they made on a bright day for +the soberer folk to go and watch, as they sat on the low chalk cliffs +above them! + +Gone--gone! Such days have passed for Folkestone! They will no doubt +come again--but when? When? + +June the seventh! Folkestone should have been gay for the beginning +of the onset of summer visitors. Sea bathing should just have been +beginning to be attractive, as the sun warmed the sea and the beach. +But when we reached the town war was over all. Men in uniform were +everywhere. Warships lay outside the harbor. Khaki and guns, men +trudging along, bearing the burdens of war, motor trucks, rushing +ponderously along, carrying ammunition and food, messengers on +motorcycles, sounding to all traffic that might be in the way the +clamorous summons to clear the path--those were the sights we saw! + +How hopelessly confused it all seemed! I could not believe that there +was order in the chaos that I saw. But that was because the key to +all that bewildering activity was not in my possession. + +Every man had his appointed task. He was a cog in the greatest +machine the world has ever seen. He knew just what he was to do, and +how much time had been allowed for the performance of his task. It +was assumed he would not fail. The British army makes that +assumption, and it is warranted. + +I hear praise, even from men who hate the Hun as I hate him, for the +superb military organization of the German army. They say the +Kaiser's people may well take pride in that. But I say that I am +prouder of what Britain and the new British army that has come into +being since this war began have done than any German has a right to +be! They spent forty-four years in making ready for a war they knew +they meant, some day, to fight. We had not had, that day that I first +saw our machine really functioning, as many months for preparation as +they had had years. And yet we were doing our part. + +We had had to build and prepare while we helped our ally, France, to +hold off that gray horde that had swept down so treacherously through +Belgium from the north and east. It was as if we had organized and +trained and equipped a fire brigade while the fire was burning, and +while our first devoted fighters sought to keep it in check with +water buckets. And they did! They did! The water buckets served while +the hose was made, and the mains were laid, and the hydrants set in +place, and the trained firemen were made ready to take up the task. + +And, now that I had come to Folkestone, now that I was seeing the +results of all the labor that had been performed, the effect of all +the prodigies of organization, I began to know what Lord Kitchener +and those who had worked with him had done. System ruled everything +at Folkestone. Nothing, it seemed to me, as officers explained as +much as they properly could, had been left to chance. Here was order +indeed. + +In the air above us airplanes flew to and fro. They circled about +like great, watchful hawks. They looped and whirled around, cutting +this way and that, circling always. And I knew that, as they flew +about outside the harbor the men in them were never off their guard; +that they were peering down, watching every moment for the first +trace of a submarine that might have crept through the more remote +defenses of the Channel. Let a submarine appear--its shrift would be +short indeed! + +There, above, waited the airplanes. And on the surface of the sea +sinister destroyers darted about as watchful as the flyers above, +ready for any emergency that might arise. I have no doubt that +submarines of our own lurked below, waiting, too, to do their part. +But those, if any there were, I did not see. And one asks no +questions at a place like Folkestone. I was glad of any information +an officer might voluntarily give me. But it was not for me or any +other loyal Briton to put him in the position of having to refuse to +answer. + +Soon a great transport was pointed out to me, lying beside the jetty. +Gangplanks were down, and up them streams of men in khaki moved +endlessly. Up they went, in an endless brown river, to disappear into +the ship. The whole ship was a very hive of activity. Not only men +were going aboard, but supplies of every sort; boxes of ammunition, +stores, food. And I understood, and was presently to see, that beyond +her sides there was the same ordered scene as prevailed on shore. +Every man knew his task; the stowing away of everything that was +being carried aboard was being carried out systematically and with +the utmost possible economy of time and effort. + +"That's the ship you will cross the Channel on," I was told. And I +regarded her with a new interest. I do not know what part she had +been wont to play in time of peace; what useful, pleasant journeys it +had been her part to complete, I only knew that she was to carry me +to France, and to the place where my heart was and for a long time +had been. Me--and two thousand men who were to be of real use over +there! + +We were nearly the last to go on board. We found the decks swarming +with men. Ah, the braw laddies! They smoked and they laughed as they +settled themselves for the trip. Never a one looked as though he +might be sorry to be there. They were leaving behind them all the +good things, all the pleasant things, of life as, in time of peace, +every one of them had learned to live it and to know it. Long, long +since had the last illusion faded of the old days when war had seemed +a thing of pomp and circumstance and glory. + +They knew well, those boys, what it was they faced. Hard, grinding +work they could look forward to doing; such work as few of them had +ever known in the old days. Death and wounds they could reckon upon +as the portion of just about so many of them. There would be bitter +cold, later, in the trenches, and mud, and standing for hours in icy +mud and water. There would be hard fare, and scanty, sometimes, when +things went wrong. There would be gas attacks, and the bursting of +shells about them with all sorts of poisons in them. Always there +would be the deadliest perils of these perilous days. + +But they sang as they set out upon the great adventure of their +lives. They smiled and laughed. They cheered me, so that the tears +started from my eyes, when they saw me, and they called the gayest of +gay greetings, though they knew that I was going only for a little +while, and that many of them had set foot on British soil for the +last time. The steady babble of their voices came to our ears, and +they swarmed below us like ants as they disposed themselves about the +decks, and made the most of the scanty space that was allowed for +them. The trip was to be short, of course; there were too few ships, +and the problems of convoy were too great, to make it possible to +make the voyage a comfortable one. It was a case of getting them over +as might best be arranged. + +A word of command rang out and was passed around by officers and non +coms. + +"Life belts must be put on before the ship sails!" + +That simple order brought home the grim facts of war at that moment as +scarcely anything else could have done. Here was a grim warning of the +peril that lurked outside. Everywhere men were scurrying to obey--I +among the rest. The order applied as much to us civilians as it did to +any of the soldiers. And my belt did not fit, and was hard, extremely +hard, for me to don. I could no manage it at all by myself, but Adam +and Hogge had had an easier time with theirs, and they came to my help. +Among us we got mine on, and Hogge stood off, and looked at me, +and smiled. + +"An extraordinary effect, Harry!" he said, with a smile. "I declare-- +it gives you the most charming embonpoint!" + +I had my doubts about his use of the word charming. I know that I +should not have cared to have anyone judge of my looks from a picture +taken as I looked then, had one been taken. + +But it was not a time for such thoughts. For a civilian, especially, +and one not used to journeys in such times as these, there is a +thrill and a solemnity about the donning of a life preserver. I felt +that I was indeed, it might be, taking a risk in making this journey, +and it was an awesome thought that I, too, might have seen my native +land for the last time, and said a real good-by to those whom I had +left behind me. + +Now we cast off, and began to move, and a thrill ran through me such +as I had never known before in all my life. I went to the rail as we +turned our nose toward the open sea. A destroyer was ahead, another +was beside us, others rode steadily along on either side. It was the +most reassuring of sights to see them. They looked so business like, +so capable. I could not imagine a Hun submarine as able to evade +their watchfulness. And moreover, there were the watchful man birds +above us, the circling airplanes, that could make out, so much better +than could any lookout on a ship, the first trace of the presence of +a tin fish. No--I was not afraid! I trusted in the British navy, +which had guarded the sea lane so well that not a man had lost his +life as the result of a Hun attack, although many millions had gone +back and forth to France since the beginning of the war. + +I did not stay with my own party. I preferred to move about among the +Soldiers. I was deeply interested in them, as I have always been. And +I wanted to make friends among them, and see how they felt. + +"Lor' lumme--its old 'Arry Lauder!" said one cockney. "God bless you, +'Arry--many's the time I've sung with you in the 'alls. It's good to +see you with us!" + +And so I was greeted everywhere. Man after man crowded around me to +shake hands. It brought a lump into my throat to be greeted so, and +it made me more than ever glad that the military authorities had been +able to see their way to grant my request. It confirmed my belief +that I was going where I might be really useful to the men who were +ready and willing to make the greatest of all sacrifices in the cause +so close to all our hearts. + +When I first went aboard the transport I picked up a little gold +stripe. It was one of those men wear who have been wounded, as a +badge of honor. I hoped I might be able to find the man who had lost +it, and return it to him. But none of them claimed it, and I have +kept it, to this day, as a souvenir of that voyage. + +It was easy for them to know me. I wore my kilt and my cap, and my +knife in my stocking, as I have always done, on the stage, and nearly +always off it as well. And so they recognized me without difficulty. +And never a one called me anything but Harry--except when it was +'Arry! I think I would be much affronted if ever a British soldier +called me Mr. Lauder. I don't know--because not one of them ever did, +and I hope none ever will! + +They told me that there were men from the Highlands on board, and I +went looking for them, and found them after a time, though going +about that ship, so crowded she was, was no easy matter. They were +Gordon Highlanders, mostly, I found, and they were glad to see me, +and made me welcome, and I had a pipe with them, and a good talk. + +Many of them were going back, after having been at home, recuperating +from wounds. And they and the new men too were all eager and anxious +to be put there and at work. + +"Gie us a chance at the Huns--it's all we're asking," said one of a +new draft. "They're telling us they don't like the sight of our +kilts, Harry, and that a Hun's got less stomach for the cold steel of +a bayonet than for anything else on earth. Weel--we're carrying a +dose of it for them!" + +And the men who had been out before, and were taking back with them +the scars they had earned, were just as anxious as the rest. That was +the spirit of every man on board. They did not like war as war, but +they knew that this was a war that must be fought to the finish, and +never a man of them wanted peace to come until Fritz had learned his +lesson to the bottom of Lie last grim page. + +I never heard a word of the danger of meeting a submarine. The idea +that one might send a torpedo after us popped into my mind once or +twice, but when it did I looked out at the destroyers, guarding us, +and the airplanes above, and I felt as safe as if I had been in bed +in my wee hoose at Dunoon. It was a true highway of war that those +whippets of the sea had made the Channel crossing. + +Ahm, but I was proud that day of the British navy! It is a great task +that it has performed, and nobly it has done it. And it was proud and +glad I was again when we sighted land, as we soon did, and I knew +that I was gazing, for the first time since war had been declared, +upon the shores of our great ally, France. It was the great day and +the proud day and the happy day for me! + +I was near the realizing of an old dream I had often had. I was with +the soldiers who had my love and my devotion, and I was coming to +France--the France that every Scotchman learns to love at his +mother's breast. + +A stir ran through the men. Orders began to fly, and I went back to +my place and my party. Soon we would be ashore, and I would be in the +way of beginning the work I had come to do. + +[ILLUSTRATION: Harry Lauder preserves the bonnet of his son, brought +to him from where the lad fell. "The memory of his boy, it is almost +his religion." (See Lauder05.jpg)] + +[ILLUSTRATION: A tatter of plaid of the Black Watch on a wire of a +German entanglement barely suggests the hell the Scotch troops have +gone through. (See Lauder06.jpg)] + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Boulogne! + +Like Folkestone, Boulogne, in happier times, had been a watering +place, less fashionable than some on the French coast, but the +pleasant resort of many in search of health and pleasure. And like +Folkestone it had suffered the blight of war. The war had laid its +heavy hand upon the port. It ruled everything; it was omnipresent. +From the moment when we came into full view of the harbor it was +impossible to think of anything else. + +Folkestone had made me think of the mouth of a great funnel, into +which all broad Britain had been pouring men and guns and all the +manifold supplies and stores of modern war. And the trip across the +narrow, well guarded lane in the Channel had been like the pouring of +water through the neck of that same funnel. Here in Boulogne was the +opening. Here the stream of men and sup-plies spread out to begin its +orderly, irresistible flow to the front. All of northern France and +Belgium lay before that stream; it had to cover all the great length +of the British front. Not from Boulogne alone, of course; I knew of +Dunkirk and Calais, and guessed at other ports. There were other +funnels, and into all of them, day after day, Britain was pouring her +tribute; through all of them she was offering her sacrifice, to be +laid upon the altar of strife. + +Here, much more than at Folkestone, as it chanced, I saw at once +another thing. There was a double funnel. The stream ran both ways. +For, as we steamed into Boulogne, a ship was coming out--a ship with +a grim and tragic burden. She was one of our hospital ships. But she +was guarded as carefully by destroyers and aircraft as our transport +had been. The Red Cross meant nothing to the Hun--except, perhaps, a +shining target. Ship after ship that bore that symbol of mercy and of +pain had been sunk. No longer did our navy dare to trust the Red +Cross. It took every precaution it could take to protect the poor +fellows who were going home to Blighty. + +As we made our way slowly in, through the crowded harbor, full of +transports, of ammunition ships, of food carriers, of destroyers and +small naval craft of all sorts, I began to be able to see more and +more of what was afoot ashore. It was near noon; the day that had +been chosen for my arrival in France was one of brilliant sunshine +and a cloudless sky. And my eyes were drawn to other hospital ships +that were waiting at the docks. Motor ambulances came dashing up, one +after the other, in what seemed to me to be an endless stream. The +pity of that sight! It was as if I could peer through the intervening +space and see the bandaged heads, the places where limbs had been, +the steadfast gaze of the boys who were being carried up in +stretchers. They had done their task, a great number of them; they +had given all that God would let them give to King and country. Life +was left to them, to be sure; most of these boys were sure to live. + +But to what maimed and incomplete lives were they doomed! The +thousands who would be cripples always--blind, some of them, and +helpless, dependent upon what others might choose or be able to do +for them. It was then, in that moment, that an idea was born, +vaguely, in my mind, of which I shall have much more to say later. + +There was beauty in that harbor of Boulogne. The sun gleamed against +the chalk cliffs. It caught the wings of airplanes, flying high above +us. But there was little of beauty in my mind's eye. That could see +through the surface beauty of the scene and of the day to the grim, +stark ugliness of war that lay beneath. + +I saw the ordered piles of boxes and supplies, the bright guns, with +the sun reflected from their barrels, dulled though these were to +prevent that very thing. And I thought of the waste that was +involved--of how all this vast product of industry was destined to be +destroyed, as swiftly as might be, bringing no useful accomplishment +with its destruction--save, of course, that accomplishment which must +be completed before any useful thing may be done again in this world. + +Then we went ashore, and I could scarcely believe that we were indeed +in France, that land which, friends though our nations are, is at +heart and in spirit so different from my own country. Boulogne had +ceased to be French, indeed. The port was like a bit of Britain +picked up, carried across the Channel and transplanted successfully +to a new resting-place. + +English was spoken everywhere--and much of it was the English of the +cockney, innocent of the aitch, and redolent of that strange tongue. +But it is no for me, a Scot, to speak of how any other man uses the +King's English! Well I ken it! It was good to hear it--had there been +a thought in my mind of being homesick, it would quickly have been +dispelled. The streets rang to the tread of British soldiers; our +uniform was everywhere. There were Frenchmen, too; they were +attached, many of them, for one reason and another, to the British +forces. But most of them spoke English too. + +I had most care about the unloading of my cigarettes. It was a point +of honor with me, by now, after the way my friends had joked me about +them, to see that every last one of the "fags" I had brought with me +reached a British Tommy. So to them I gave my first care. Then I saw +to the unloading of my wee piano, and, having done so, was free to go +with the other members of the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour to +the small hotel that was to be headquarters for all of us in +Boulogne. + +Arrangements had to be made for my debut in France, and I can tell +you that no professional engagement I have ever filled ever gave me +half so much concern as this one! I have sung before many strange +audiences, in all parts of the world, or nearly all. I have sung for +folk who had no idea of what to expect from me, and have known that I +must be at work from the moment of my first appearance on the stage +to win them. But these audiences that I was to face here in France +gave me more thought than any of them. I had so great a reason for +wanting to suceed with them! + +And here, ye ken, I faced conditions that were harder than had ever +fallen to my lot. I was not to have, most of the time, even the +military theaters that had, in some cases, been built for the men +behind the lines, where many actors and, indeed, whole companies, +from home had been appearing. I could make no changes of costume. I +would have no orchestra. Part of the time I would have my wee piano, +but I reckoned on going to places where even that sma' thing could no +follow me. + +But I had a good manager--the British army, no less! It was the army +that had arranged my booking. We were not left alone, not for a +minute. I would not have you think that we were left to go around on +our own, and as we pleased. Far from it! No sooner had we landed than +Captain Roberts, D.S.O., told me, in a brief, soldierly way, that was +also extremely businesslike, what sort of plans had been made for us. + +"We have a number of big hospitals here," he said. "This is one of +the important British bases, as you know, and it is one of those +where many of our men are treated before they are sent home. So, +since you are here, we thought you would want to give your first +concerts to the wounded men here." + +So I learned that the opening of what you might call my engagement in +the trenches was to be in hospitals. That was not new to me, and yet +I was to find that there was a difference between a base hospital in +France and the sort of hospitals I had seen so often at home. + +Nothing, indeed, was left to us. After Captain Roberts had explained +matters, we met Captain Godfrey, who was to travel with us, and be +our guide, our military mentor and our ruler. We understood that we +must place ourselves under him, and under military discipline. No +Tommy, indeed, was more under discipline than we had to be. But we +did not chafe, civilians though we were. When you see the British +army at work nothing is further from your thoughts than to criticize +or to offer any suggestions. It knows its business, and does it, +quietly and without fuss. But even Fritz has learned to be chary of +getting in the way when the British army has made up its mind--and +that is what he is there for, though I've no doubt that Fritz himself +would give a pretty penny to be at home again, with peace declared. + +Captain Godfrey, absolute though his power over us was--he could have +ordered us all home at a moment's notice--turned out to be a +delightful young officer, who did everything in his power to make our +way smooth and pleasant, and who was certainly as good a manager as I +ever had or ever expect to have. He entered into the spirit of our +tour, and it was plain to see that it would be a success from start +to finish if it were within his power to make it so. He liked to call +himself my manager, and took a great delight, indeed, in the whole +experience. Well, it was a change for him, no doubt! + +I had brought a piano with me, but no accompanist. That was not an +oversight; it was a matter of deliberate choice. I had been told, +before I left home, that I would have no difficulty in finding some +one among the soldiers to accompany me. And that was true, as I soon +found. In fact, as I was to learn later, I could have recruited a +full orchestra among the Tommies, and I would have had in my band, +too, musicians of fame and great ability, far above the average +theater orchestra. Oh, you must go to France to learn how every art +and craft in Britain has done its part! + +Aye, every sort of artist and artisan, men of every profession and +trade, can be found in the British army. It has taken them all, like +some great melting pot, and made them soldiers. I think, indeed, +there is no calling that you could name that would not yield you a +master hand from the ranks of the British army. And I am not talking +of the officers alone, but of the great mass of Tommies. And so when +I told Captain Godfrey I would be needing a good pianist to play my +accompaniments, he just smiled. + +"Right you are!" he said. "We'll turn one up for you in no time!" + +He had no doubts at all, and he was right. They found a lad called +Johnson, a Yorkshireman, in a convalescent ward of one of the big +hospitals. He was recovering from an illness he had incurred in the +trenches, and was not quite ready to go back to active duty. But he +was well enough to play for me, and delighted when he heard he might +get the assignment. He was nervous lest he should not please me, and +feared I might ask for another man. But when I ran over with him the +songs I meant to sing I found he played the piano very well indeed, +and had a knack for accompanying, too. There are good pianists, +soloists, who are not good accompanists; it takes more than just the +ability to play the piano to work with a singer, and especially with +a singer like me. It is no straight ahead singing I do always, as you +ken, perhaps. + +But I saw at once that Johnson and I would get along fine together, +so everyone was pleased, and I went on and made my preparations with +him for my first concert. That was to be in the Boulogne Casino-- +center of the gayety of the resort in the old days, but now, for a +long time, turned into a base hospital. + +They had played for high stakes there in the old days before the war. +Thousands of dollars had changed hands in an hour there. But they +were playing for higher stakes now! They were playing for the lives +and the health of men, and the hearts of the women at home in Britain +who were bound up with them. In the old days men had staked their +money against the turn of a card or the roll of the wheel. But now it +was with Death they staked--and it was a mightier game than those old +walls had ever seen before. + +The largest ward of the hospital was in what had been the Baccarat +room, and it was there I held my first concert of the trench +engagement. When I appeared it was packed full. There were men on +cots, lying still and helpless, bandaged to their very eyes. Some +came limping in on their crutches; some were rolled in in chairs. It +was a sad scene and an impressive one, and it went to my heart when I +thought that my own poor laddie must have lain in just such a room-- +in this very one, perhaps. He had suffered as these men were +suffering, and he had died--as some of these men for whom I was to +sing would die. For there were men here who would be patched up, +presently, and would go back. And for them there might be a next +time--a next time when they would need no hospital. + +There was one thing about the place I liked. It was so clean and +white and spotless. All the garish display, the paint and tawdry +finery, of the old gambling days, had gone. It was restful, now, and +though there was the hospital smell, it was a clean smell. And the +men looked as though they had wonderful care. Indeed, I knew they had +that; I knew that everything that could be done to ease their state +was being done. And every face I saw was brave and cheerful, though +the skin of many and many a lad was stretched tight over his bones +with the pain he had known, and there was a look in their eyes, a +look with no repining in it, or complaint, but with the evidences of +a terrible pain, bravely suffered, that sent the tears starting to my +eyes more than once. + +It was much as it had been in the many hospitals I had visited in +Britain, and yet it was different, too. I felt that I was really at +the front. Later I came to realize how far from the real front I +actually was at Boulogne, but then I knew no better. + +I had chosen my programme carefully. It was made up of songs +altogether. I had had enough experience in hospitals and camps by now +to have learned what soldiers liked best, and I had no doubt at all +that it was just songs. And best of all they liked the old love +songs, and the old songs of Scotland--tender, crooning melodies, that +would help to carry them back, in memory, to their hames and, if they +had them, to the lassies of their dreams. It was no sad, lugubrious +songs they wanted. But a note of wistful tenderness they liked. That +was true of sick and wounded, and of the hale and hearty too--and it +showed that, though they were soldiers, they were just humans like +the rest of us, for all the great and super-human things they ha' +done out there in France. + +Not every actor and artist who has tried to help in the hospitals has +fully understood the men he or she wanted to please. They meant well, +every one, but some were a wee bit unfortunate in the way they went +to work. There is a story that is told of one of our really great +serious actors. He is serious minded, always, on the stage and off, +and very, very dignified. But some folk went to him and asked him +would he no do his bit to cheer up the puir laddies in a hospital? + +He never thought of refusing--and I would no have you think I am +sneering at the man! His intentions were of the best. + +"Of course, I do not sing or dance," he said, drawing down his lip. +And the look in his eyes showed what he thought of such of us as had +descended to such low ways of pleasing the public that paid to see us +and to hear us: "But I shall very gladly do something to bring a +little diversion into the sad lives of the poor boys in the +hospitals." + +It was a stretcher audience that he had. That means a lot of boys who +had to lie in bed to hear him. They needed cheering. And that great +actor, with all his good intentions could think of nothing more +fitting than to stand up before them and begin to recite, in a sad, +elocutionary tone, Longfellow's "The Wreck of the Hesperus!" + +He went on, and his voice gained power. He had come to the third +stanza, or the fourth, maybe, when a command rang out through the +ward. It was one that had been heard many and many a time in France, +along the trenches. It came from one of the beds. + +"To cover, men!" came the order. + +It rang out through the ward, in a hoarse voice. And on the word +every man's head popped under the bedclothes! And the great actor, +astonished beyond measure, was left there, reciting away to shaking +mounds of bedclothes that entrenched his hearers from the sound of +his voice! + +Well, I had heard yon tale. I do no think I should ever have risked a +similar fate by making the same sort of mistake, but I profited by +hearing it, and I always remembered it. And there was another thing. +I never thought, when I was going to sing for soldiers, that I was +doing something for them that should make them glad to listen to me, +no matter what I chose to sing for them. + +I always thought, instead, that here was an audience that had paid to +hear me in the dearest coin in all the world--their legs and arms, +their health and happiness. Oh, they had paid! They had not come in +on free passes! Their tickets had cost them dear--dearer than tickets +for the theater had ever cost before. I owed them more than I could +ever pay--my own future, and my freedom, and the right and the chance +to go on living in my own country free from the threat and the menace +of the Hun. It was for me to please those boys when I sang for them, +and to make such an effort as no ordinary audience had ever heard +from me. + +They had made a little platform to serve as a stage for me. There was +room for me and for Johnson, and for the wee piano. And so I sang for +them, and they showed me from the start that they were pleased. Those +who could, clapped, and all cheered, and after each song there was a +great pounding of crutches on the floor. It was an inspiring sound +and a great sight, sad though it was to see and to hear. + +When I had done I went aboot amang the men, shaking hands with such +as could gie me their hands, and saying a word or two to all of them. +Directly in front of the platform there lay a wounded Scots soldier, +and all through my concert he watched me most intently; he never took +his eyes off me. When I had sung my last song he beckoned to me +feebly, and I went to him, and bent over to listen to him. + +"Eh, Harry, man," he said, "will ye be doin' me a favor?" + +"Aye, that I will, if I can," I told him. + +"It's to ask the doctor will I no be gettin' better soon. Because, +Harry, mon, I've but the one desire left--and that's to be in at the +finish of yon fight!" + +I was to give one more concert in Boulogne, that night. That was more +cheerful, and it was different, again, from anything I had done or +known before. There was a convalescent camp, about two miles from +town, high up on the chalk cliffs. And this time my theater was a +Y.M.C.A. hut. But do not let the name hut deceive ye! I had an +audience of two thousand men that nicht! It was all the "hut" would +hold, with tight squeezing. And what a roaring, wild crowd that was, +to be sure! They sang with me, and they cheered and clapped until I +thought that hut would be needing a new roof! + +I had to give over at last, for I was tired, and needed sleep. We had +our orders. The Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour was to start for +Vimy Ridge at six o'clock next morning! + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +We were up next morning before daybreak. But I did not feel as if I +were getting up early. Indeed, it was quite the reverse. All about us +was a scene of such activity that I felt as if I had been lying in +bed unconsciously long--as if I were the laziest man in all that busy +town. Troops were setting out, boarding military trains. Cheery, +jovial fellows they were--the same lads, some of them, who had +crossed the Channel with me, and many others who had come in later. +Oh, it is a steady stream of men and supplies, indeed, that goes +across the narrow sea to France! + +Motor trucks--they were calling them camions, after the French +fashion, because it was a shorter and a simpler word--fairly swarmed +in the streets. Guns rolled ponderously along. It was not military +pomp we saw. Indeed, I saw little enough of that in France. It was +only the uniforms and the guns that made me realize that this was +war. The activity was more that of a busy, bustling factory town. It +was not English, and it was not French. I think it made me think more +of an American city. War, I cannot tell you often enough, is a great +business, a vast industry, in these days. Someone said, and he was +right, that they did not win victories any more--that they +manufactured them, as all sorts of goods are manufactured. Digging, +and building--that is the great work of modern war. + +Our preparations, being in the hands of Captain Godfrey and the +British army, were few and easily made. Two great, fast army motor +cars had been put at the disposal of the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., +Tour, and when we went out to get into them and make our start it was +just a problem of stowing away all we had to carry with us. + +The first car was a passenger car. Each motor had a soldier as +chauffeur. I and the Reverend George Adam rode in the tonneau of the +leading car, and Captain Godfrey, our manager and guide, sat with the +driver, in front. That was where he belonged, and where, being a +British officer, he naturally wanted to be. They have called our +officers reckless, and said that they risked their lives too freely. +Weel--I dinna ken! I am no soldier. But I know what a glorious +tradition the British officer has--and I know, too, how his men +follow him. They know, do the laddies in the ranks, that their +officers will never ask them to go anywhere or do anything they would +shirk themselves--and that makes for a spirit that you could not +esteem too highly. + +It was the second car that was our problem. We put Johnson, my +accompanist, in the tonneau first, and then we covered him with +cigarettes. It was a problem to get them stowed away, and when we had +accomplished the task, finally, there was not much of Johnson to be +seen! He was covered and surrounded with cigarettes, but he was snug, +and he looked happy and comfortable, as he grinned at us--his face +was about all of him that we could see. Hogge rode in front with the +driver of that car, and had more room, so, than he would have had in +the tonneau, where, as a passenger and a guest, he really belonged. +The wee bit piano was lashed to the grid of the second car. And I +give you my word it looked like a gypsy's wagon more than like one of +the neat cars of the British army! + +Weel, all was ready in due time, and it was just six o'clock when we +set off. There was a thing I noted again and again. The army did +things on time in France. If we were to start at a certain time we +always did. Nothing ever happened to make us unpunctual. + +It was a glorious morning! We went roaring out of Boulogne on a road +that was as hard and smooth as a paved street in London despite all +the terrific traffic it had borne since the war made Boulogne a +British base. And there were no speed limits here. So soon as the +cars were tuned up we went along at the highest speed of which the +cars were capable. Our soldier drivers knew their business; only the +picked men were assigned to the driving of these cars, and speed was +one of the things that was wanted of them. Much may hang on the speed +of a motor car in France. + +But, fast as we traveled, we did not go too fast for me to enjoy the +drive and the sights and sounds that were all about us. They were +oddly mixed. Some were homely and familiar, and some were so strange +that I could not give over wondering at them. The motors made a great +noise, but it was not too loud for me to hear larks singing in the +early morning. All the world was green with the early sun upon it, +lighting up every detail of a strange countryside. There was a soft +wind, a gentle, caressing wind, that stirred the leaves of the trees +along the road. + +But not for long could we escape the touch of war. That grim etcher +was at work upon the road and the whole countryside. As we went on we +were bound to move more slowly, because of the congestion of the +traffic. Never was Piccadilly or Fifth Avenue more crowded with +motors at the busiest hour of the day than was that road. As we +passed through villages or came to cross roads we saw military +police, directing traffic, precisely as they do at busy intersections +of crowded streets in London or New York. + +But the traffic along that road was not the traffic of the cities. +Here were no ladies, gorgeously clad, reclining in their luxurious, +deeply upholstered cars. Here were no footmen and chauffeurs in +livery. Ah, they wore a livery--aye! But it was the livery of glory-- +the khaki of the King! Generals and high officers passed us, bowling +along, lolling in their cars, taking their few brief minutes or half +hours of ease, smoking and talking. They corresponded to the +limousines and landaulets of the cities. And there were wagons from +the shops--great trucks, carrying supplies, going along at a pace +that racked their engines and their bodies, and that boded disaster +to whoever got in their way. But no one did--there was no real +confusion here, despite the seeming madness of the welter of traffic +that we saw. + +What a traffic that was! And it was all the traffic of the carnage we +were nearing. It was a marvelous and an impressive panorama of force +and of destruction that we saw it was being constantly unrolled +before my wondering eyes as we traveled along the road out of old +Boulogne. + +At first all the traffic was going our way. Sometimes there came a +warning shriek from behind, and everything drew to one side to make +room for a dispatch rider on a motor cycle. These had the right of +way. Sir Douglas Haig himself, were he driving along, would see his +driver turn out to make way for one of those shrieking motor bikes! +The rule is absolute--everything makes way for them. + +But it was not long before a tide of traffic began to meet us, +flowing back toward Boulogne. There was a double stream then, and I +wondered how collisions and traffic jams of all sorts could be +avoided. I do not know yet; I only know that there is no trouble. +Here were empty trucks, speeding back for new loads. And some there +were that carried all sorts of wreckage--the flotsam and jetsam cast +up on the safe shores behind the front by the red tide of war. +Nothing is thrown away out there; nothing is wasted. Great piles of +discarded shoes are brought back to be made over. They are as good as +new when they come back from the factories where they are worked +over. Indeed, the men told me they were better than new, because they +were less trying to their feet, and did not need so much breaking in. + +Men go about, behind the front, and after a battle, picking up +everything that has been thrown away. Everything is sorted and gone +over with the utmost care. Rifles that have been thrown away or +dropped when men were wounded or killed, bits of uniforms, bayonets-- +everything is saved. Reclamation is the order of the day. There is +waste enough in war that cannot be avoided; the British army sees to +it that there is none that is avoidable. + +But it was not only that sort of wreckage, that sort of driftwood +that was being carried back to be made over. Presently we began to +see great motor ambulances coming along, each with a Red Cross +painted glaringly on its side--though that paint was wasted or worse, +for there is no target the Hun loves better, it would seem, than the +great red cross of mercy. And in them, as we knew, there was the most +pitiful wreckage of all--the human wreckage of the war. + +In the wee sma' hours of the morn they bear the men back who have +been hit the day before and during the night. They go back to the +field dressing stations and the hospitals just behind the front, to +be sorted like the other wreckage. Some there are who cannot be moved +further, at first, but must he cared for under fire, lest they die on +the way. But all whose wounds are such that they can safely be moved +go back in the ambulances, first to the great base hospitals, and +then, when possible, on the hospital ships to England. + +Sometimes, but not often, we passed troops marching along the road. +They swung along. They marched easily, with the stride that could +carry them furthest with the least effort. They did not look much +like the troops I used to see in London. They did not have the snap +of the Coldstream Guards, marching through Green Park in the old +days. But they looked like business and like war. They looked like +men who had a job of work to do and meant to see it through. + +They had discipline, those laddies, but it was not the old, stiff +discipline of the old army. That is a thing of a day that is dead and +gone. Now, as we passed along the side of the road that marching +troops always leave clear, there was always a series of hails for me. + +"Hello, Harry!" I would hear. + +And I would look back, and see grinning Tommies waving their hands to +me. It was a flattering experience, I can tell you, to be recognized +like that along that road. It was like running into old friends in a +strange town where you have come thinking you know no one at all. + +We were about thirty miles out of Boulogne when there was a sudden +explosion underneath the car, followed by a sibilant sound that I +knew only too well. + +"Hello--a puncture!" said Godfrey, and smiled as he turned around. We +drew up to the side of the road, and both chauffeurs jumped out and +went to work on the recalcitrant tire. The rest of us sat still, and +gazed around us at the fields. I was glad to have a chance to look +quietly about. The fields stretched out, all emerald green, in all +directions to the distant horizon, sapphire blue that glorious +morning. And in the fields, here and there, were the bent, stooped +figures of old men and women. They were carrying on, quietly. +Husbands and sons and brothers had gone to war; all the young men of +France had gone. These were left, and they were seeing to the +performance of the endless cycle of duty. France would survive; the +Hun could not crush her. Here was a spirit made manifest--a spirit +different in degree but not in kind from the spirit of my ain +Britain. It brought a lump into my throat to see them, the old men +and the women, going so patiently and quietly about their tasks. + +It was very quiet. Faint sounds came to us; there was a distant +rumbling, like the muttering of thunder on a summer's night, when the +day has been hot and there are low, black clouds lying against the +horizon, with the flashes of the lightning playing through them. But +that I had come already not to heed, though I knew full well, by now, +what it was and what it meant. For a little space the busy road had +become clear; there was a long break in the traffic. + +I turned to Adam and to Captain Godfrey. + +"I'm thinking here's a fine chance for a bit of a rehearsal in the +open air," I said. "I'm not used to singing so--mayhap it would be +well to try my voice and see will it carry as it should." + +"Right oh!" said Godfrey. + +And so we dug Johnson out from his snug barricade of cigarettes, that +hid him as an emplacement hides a gun, and we unstrapped my wee piano, +and set it up in the road. Johnson tried the piano, and then we began. + +I think I never sang with less restraint in all my life than I did +that quiet morning on the Boulogne road. I raised my voice and let it +have its will. And I felt my spirits rising with the lilt of the +melody. My voice rang out, full and free, and it must have carried +far and wide across the fields. + +My audience was small at first--Captain Godfrey, Hogge, Adam, and the +two chauffeurs, working away, and having more trouble with the tire +than they had thought at first they would--which is the way of tires, +as every man knows who owns a car. But as they heard my songs the old +men and women in the fields straightened up to listen. They stood +wondering, at first, and then, slowly, they gave over their work for +a space, and came to gather round me and to listen. + +It must have seemed strange to them! Indeed, it must have seemed +strange to anyone had they seen and heard me! There I was, with +Johnson at my piano, like some wayside tinker setting up his cart and +working at his trade! But I did not care for appearances--not a whit. +For the moment I was care free, a wandering minstrel, like some +troubadour of old, care free and happy in my song. I forgot the black +shadow under which we all lay in that smiling land, the black shadow +of war in which I sang. + +It delighted me to see those old peasants and to study their faces, +and to try to win them with my song. They could not understand a word +I sang, and yet I saw the smiles breaking out over their wrinkled +faces, and it made me proud and happy. For it was plain that I was +reaching them--that I was able to throw a bridge over the gap of a +strange tongue and an alien race. When I had done and it was plain I +meant to sing no more they clapped me. + +"There's a hand for you, Harry," said Adam. "Aye--and I'm proud of +it!" I told him for reply. + +I was almost sorry when I saw that the two chauffeurs had finished +their repairs and were ready to go on. But I told them to lash the +piano back in its place, and Johnson prepared to climb gingerly back +among his cigarettes. But just then something happened that I had not +expected. + +There was a turn in the road just beyond us that hid its continuation +from us. And around the bend now there came a company of soldiers. +Not neat and well-appointed soldiers these. Ah, no! They were fresh +from the trenches, on their way back to rest. The mud and grime of +the trenches were upon them. They were tired and weary, and they +carried all their accoutrements and packs with them. Their boots were +heavy with mud. And they looked bad, and many of them shaky. Most of +these men, Godfrey told me after a glance at them, had been ordered +back to hospital for minor ailments. They were able to march, but not +much more. + +They were the first men I had seen in such a case, They looked bad +enough, but Godfrey said they were happy enough. Some of them would +get leave for Blighty, and be home, in a few days, to see their +families and their girls. And they came swinging along in fine style, +sick and tired as they were, for the thought of where they were going +cheered them and helped to keep them going. + +A British soldier, equipped for the trenches, on his way in or out, +has quite a load to carry. He has his pack, and his emergency ration, +and his entrenching tools, and extra clothing that he needs in bad +weather in the trenches, to say nothing of his ever-present rifle. +And the sight of them made me realize for the first time the truth +that lay behind the jest in a story that is one of Tommy's favorites. + +A child saw a soldier in heavy marching order. She gazed at him in +wide-eyed wonder. He was not her idea of what a soldier should look +like. + +"Mother," she asked, "what is a soldier for?" + +The mother gazed at the man. And then she smiled. + +"A soldier," she answered, "is to hang things on." + +They eyed me very curiously as they came along, those sick laddies. +They couldn't seem to understand what I was doing there, but their +discipline held them. They were in charge of a young lieutenant with +one star--a second lieutenant. I learned later that he was a long way +from being a well man himself. So I stopped him. "Would your men like +to hear a few songs, lieutenant?" I asked him. + +He hesitated. He didn't quite understand, and he wasn't a bit sure +what his duty was in the circumstances. He glanced at Godfrey, and +Godfrey smiled at him as if in encouragement. + +"It's very good of you, I'm sure," he said, slowly. "Fall out!" + +So the men fell out, and squatted there, along the wayside. At once +discipline was relaxed. Their faces were a study as the wee piano was +set up again, and Johnson, in uniform, of course sat down and trued a +chord or two. And then suddenly something happened that broke the +ice. Just as I stood up to sing a loud voice broke the silence. + +"Lor' love us!" one of the men cried, "if it ain't old 'Arry Lauder!" + +There was a stir of interest at once. I spotted the owner of the +voice. It was a shriveled up little chap, with a weazened face that +looked like a sun-dried apple. He was showing all his teeth in a grin +at me, and he was a typical little cockney of the sort all Londoners +know well. + +"Go it, 'Arry!" he shouted, shrilly. "Many's the time h' I've 'eard +you at the old Shoreditch!" + +So I went it as well as I could, and I never did have a more +appreciative audience. My little cockney friend seemed to take a +particular personal pride in me. I think he thought he had found me, +and that he was, in an odd way, responsible for my success with his +mates. And so he was especially glad when they cheered me and thanked +me as they did. + +My concert didn't last long, for we had to be getting on, and the +company of sick men had just so much time, too, to reach their +destination--Boulogne, whence we had set out. When it was over I said +good-by to the men, and shook hands with particular warmth with the +little cockney. It wasn't every day I was likely to meet a man who +had often heard me at the old Shoreditch! After we had stowed Johnson +and the piano away again, with a few less cigarettes, now, to get in +Johnson's way, we started, and as long as we were in sight the little +cockney and I were waving to one another. + +I took some of the cigarettes into the car I was in now. And as we +sped along we were again in the thick of the great British war +machine. Motor trucks and ambulances were more frequent than ever, +and it was a common occurrence now to pass soldiers, marching in both +directions--to the front and away from it. There was always some-one +to recognize me and start a volley of "Hello, Harrys" coming my way, +and I answered every greeting, you may be sure, and threw cigarettes +to go with my "Hellos." + +Aye, I was glad I had brought the cigarettes! They seemed to be even +more welcome than I had hoped they would be, and I only wondered how +long the supply would hold out, and if I would be able to get more if +it did not. So Johnson, little by little, was getting more room, as I +called for more and more of the cigarettes that walled him in in his +tonneau. + +About noon, as we drove through a little town, I saw, for the first +time, a whole flock of airplanes riding the sky. They were swooping +about like lazy hawks, and a bonnie sight they were. I drew a long +breath when I saw them, and turned to my friend Adam. + +"Well," I said, "I think we're coming to it, now!" + +I meant the front--the real, British front. + +Suddenly, at a sharp order from Captain Godfrey, our cars stopped. He +turned around to us, and grinned, very cheerfully. + +"Gentlemen," he said, very calmly, "we'll stop here long enough to +put on our steel helmets." + +He said it just as he might have said: "Well, here's where we will +stop for tea." + +It meant no more than that to him. But for me it meant many things. +It meant that at last I was really to be under fire; that I was going +into danger. I was not really frightened yet; you have to see danger, +and know just what it is, and appreciate exactly its character, +before you can be frightened. But I had imagination enough to know +what that order meant, and to have a queer feeling as I donned the +steel helmet. It was less uncomfortable than I had expected it to +be--lighter, and easier to wear. The British trench helmets are +beautifully made, now; as in every other phase of the war and its +work they represent a constant study for improvement, lightening. + +But, even had it not been for the warning that was implied in Captain +Godfrey's order, I should soon have understood that we had come into +a new region. For a long time now the noise of the guns had been +different. Instead of being like distant thunder it was a much nearer +and louder sound. It was a steady, throbbing roar now. + +And, at intervals, there came a different sound; a sound more +individual, that stood out from the steady roar. It was as if the air +were being cracked apart by the blow of some giant hammer. I knew +what it was. Aye, I knew. You need no man to tell you what it is--the +explosion of a great shell not so far from you! + +Nor was it our ears alone that told us what was going on. Ever and +anon, now, ahead of us, as we looked at the fields, we saw a cloud of +dirt rise up. That was where a shell struck. And in the fields about +us, now, we could see holes, full of water, as a rule, and mounds of +dirt that did not look as if shovels and picks had raised them. + +It surprised me to see that the peasants were still at work. I spoke +to Godfrey about that. + +"The French peasants don't seem to know what it is to be afraid of +shell-fire," he said. "They go only when we make them. It is the same +on the French front. They will cling to a farmhouse in the zone of +fire until they are ordered out, no matter how heavily it may be +shelled. They are splendid folk! The Germans can never beat a race +that has such folk as that behind its battle line." + +I could well believe him. I have seen no sight along the whole front +more quietly impressive than the calm, impassive courage of those +French peasants. They know they are right! It is no Kaiser, no war +lord, who gives them courage. It is the knowledge and the +consciousness that they are suffering in a holy cause, and that, in +the end, the right and the truth must prevail. Their own fate, +whatever may befall them, does not matter. France must go on and +shall, and they do their humble part to see that she does and shall. + +Solemn thoughts moved me as we drove on. Here there had been real war +and fighting. Now I saw a country blasted by shell-fire and wrecked +by the contention of great armies. And I knew that I was coming to +soil watered by British blood; to rows of British graves; to soil +that shall be forever sacred to the memory of the Britons, from +Britain and from over the seas, who died and fought upon it to redeem +it from the Hun. + +I had no mind to talk, to ask questions. For the time I was content +to be with my own thoughts, that were evoked by the historic ground +through which we passed. My heart was heavy with grief and with the +memories of my boy that came flooding it, but it was lightened, too, +by other thoughts. + +And always, as we sped on, there was the thunder of the guns. Always +there were the bursting shells, and the old bent peasants paying no +heed to them. Always there were the circling airplanes, far above us, +like hawks against the deep blue of the sky. And always we came +nearer and nearer to Vimy Ridge--that deathless name in the history +of Britain. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Now Captain Godfrey leaned back and smiled at us. + +"There's Vimy Ridge," he said. And he pointed. + +"Yon?" I asked, in astonishment. + +I was almost disappointed. We had heard so much, in Britain and in +Scotland, of Vimy Ridge. The name of that famous hill had been +written imperishably in history. But to look at it first, to see it +as I saw it, it was no hill at all! My eyes were used to the +mountains of my ain Scotland, and this great ridge was but a tiny +thing beside them. But then I began to picture the scene as it had +been the day the Canadians stormed it and won for themselves the +glory of all the ages. I pictured it blotted from sight by the hell +of shells bursting over it, and raking its slopes as the Canadians +charged upward. I pictured it crowned by defenses and lined by such +of the Huns as had survived the artillery battering, spitting death +and destruction from their machine guns. And then I saw it as I +should, and I breathed deep at the thought of the men who had faced +death and hell to win that height and plant the flag of Britain upon +it. Aye, and the Stars and Stripes of America, too! + +Ye ken that tale? There was an American who had enlisted, like so +many of his fellow countrymen before America was in the war, in the +Canadian forces. The British army was full of men who had told a +white lie to don the King's uniform. Men there are in the British +army who winked as they enlisted and were told: "You'll be a +Canadian?" + +"Aye, aye, I'm a Canadian," they'd say. "From what province?" + +"The province of Kentucky--or New York--or California!" + +Well, there was a lad, one of them, was in the first wave at Vimy +Ridge that April day in 1917. 'Twas but a few days before that a wave +of the wildest cheering ever heard had run along the whole Western +front, so that Fritz in his trenches wondered what was up the noo. +Well, he has learned, since then! He has learned, despite his Kaiser +and his officers, and his lying newspapers, that that cheer went up +when the news came that America had declared war upon Germany. And +so, it was a few days after that cheer was heard that the Canadians +leaped over the top and went for Vimy Ridge, and this young fellow +from America had a wee silken flag. He spoke to his officer. + +"Now that my own country's in the war, sir," he said, "I'd like to +carry her flag with me when we go over the top. Wrapped around me, +sir--" + +"Go it!" said the officer. + +And so he did. And he was one of those who won through and reached +the top. There he was wounded, but he had carried the Stars and +Stripes with him to the crest. + +Vimy Ridge! I could see it. And above it, and beyond it, now, for the +front had been carried on, far beyond, within what used to be the +lines of the Hun, the airplanes circled. Very quiet and lazy they +seemed, for all I knew of their endless activity and the precious +work that they were doing. I could see how the Huns were shelling +them. You would see an airplane hovering, and then, close by, +suddenly, a ball of cottony white smoke. Shrapnel that was, bursting, +as Fritz tried to get the range with an anti-aircraft gun--an Archie, +as the Tommies call them. But the plane would pay no heed, except, +maybe, to dip a bit or climb a little higher to make it harder for +the Hun. It made me think of a man shrugging his shoulders, calmly +and imperturbably, in the face of some great peril, and I wanted to +cheer. I had some wild idea that maybe he would hear me, and know +that someone saw him, and appreciated what he was doing--someone to +whom it was not an old story! But then I smiled at my own thought. + +Now it was time for us to leave the cars and get some exercise. Our +steel helmets were on, and glad we were of them, for shrapnel was +bursting nearby sometimes, although most of the shells were big +fellows, that buried themselves in the ground and then exploded. +Fritz wasn't doing much casual shelling the noo, though. He was +saving his fire until his observers gave him a real target to aim at. +But that was no so often, for our airplanes were in command of the +air then, and his flyers got precious little chance to guide his +shooting. Most of his hits were due to luck. + +"Spread out a bit as you go along here," said Captain Godfrey. "If a +crump lands close by there's no need of all of us going! If we're +spread out a bit, you see, a shell might get one and leave the rest +of us." + +It sounded cold blooded, but it was not. To men who have lived at the +front everything comes to be taken as a matter of course. Men can get +used to anything--this war has proved that again, if there was need +of proving it. And I came to understand that, and to listen to things +I heard with different ears. But those are things no one can tell you +of; you must have been at the front yourself to understand all that +goes on there, both in action and in the minds of men. + +We obeyed Captain Godfrey readily enough, as you can guess. And so I +was alone as I walked toward Vimy Ridge. It looked just like a lumpy +excrescence on the landscape; at hame we would not even think of it +as a foothill. But as I neared it, and as I rememered all it stood +for, I thought that in the atlas of history it would loom higher than +the highest peak of the great Himalaya range. + +Beyond the ridge, beyond the actual line of the trenches, miles away, +indeed, were the German batteries from which the shells we heard and +saw as they burst were coming. I was glad of my helmet, and of the +cool assurance of Captain Godfrey. I felt that we were as safe, in +his hands, as men could be in such a spot. + +It was not more than a mile we had to cover, but it was rough going, +bad going. Here war had had its grim way without interruption. The +face of the earth had been cut to pieces. Its surface had been +smashed to a pulpy mass. The ground had been plowed, over and over, +by a rain of shells--German and British. What a planting there had +been that spring, and what a plowing! A harvest of death it had been +that had been sown--and the reaper had not waited for summer to come, +and the Harvest moon. He had passed that way with his scythe, and +where we passed now he had taken his terrible, his horrid, toll. + +At the foot of the ridge I saw men fighting for the first time-- +actually fighting, seeking to hurt an enemy. It was a Canadian +battery we saw, and it was firing, steadily and methodically, at the +Huns. Up to now I had seen only the vast industrial side of war, its +business and its labor. Now I was, for the first time, in touch with +actual fighting. I saw the guns belching death and destruction, +destined for men miles away. It was high angle fire, of course, +directed by observers in the air. + +But even that seemed part of the sheer, factory-like industry of war. +There was no passion, no coming to grips in hot blood, here. Orders +were given by the battery commander and the other officers as the +foreman in a machine shop might give them. And the busy artillerymen +worked like laborers, too, clearing their guns after a salvo, loading +them, bringing up fresh supplies of ammunition. It was all +methodical, all a matter of routine. + +"Good artillery work is like that," said Captain Godfrey, when I +spoke to him about it. "It's a science. It's all a matter of the +higher mathematics. Everything is worked out to half a dozen places +of decimals. We've eliminated chance and guesswork just as far as +possible from modern artillery actions." + +But there was something about it all that was disappointing, at first +sight. It let you down a bit. Only the guns themselves kept up the +tradition. Only they were acting as they should, and showing a proper +passion and excitement. I could hear them growling ominously, like +dogs locked in their kennel when they would be loose and about, and +hunting. And then they would spit, angrily. They inflamed my +imagination, did those guns; they satisfied me and my old-fashioned +conception of war and fighting, more than anything else that I had +seen had done. And it seemed to me that after they had spit out their +deadly charge they wiped their muzzles with red tongues of flame, +satisfied beyond all words or measure with what they had done. + +We were rising now, as we walked, and getting a better view of the +country that lay beyond. And so I came to understand a little better +the value of a height even so low and insignificant as Vimy Ridge in +that flat country. While the Germans held it they could overlook all +our positions, and all the advantage of natural placing had been to +them. Now, thanks to the Canadians, it was our turn, and we were +looking down. + +Weel, I was under fire. There was no doubt about it. There was a +droning over us now, like the noise bees make, or many flies in a +small room on a hot summer's day. That was the drone of the German +shells. There was a little freshening of the artillery activity on +both sides, Captain Godfrey said, as if in my honor. When one side +increased its fire the other always answered--played copy cat. There +was no telling, ye ken, when such an increase of fire might not be +the first sign of an attack. And neither side took more chances than +it must. + +I had known, before I left Britain, that I would come under fire. And +I had wondered what it would be like: I had expected to be afraid, +nervous. Brave men had told me, one after another, that every man is +afraid when he first comes under fire. And so I had wondered how I +would be, and I had expected to be badly scared and extremely +nervous. Now I could hear that constant droning of shells, and, in +the distance, I could see, very often, powdery squirts of smoke and +dirt along the ground, where our shells were striking, so that I knew +I had the Hun lines in sight. + +And I can truthfully say that, that day, at least, I felt no great +fear or nervousness. Later I did, as I shall tell you, but that day +one overpowering emotion mastered every other. It was a desire for +vengeance! You were the Huns--the men who had killed my boy. They +were almost within my reach. And as I looked at them there in their +lines a savage desire possessed me, almost overwhelmed me, indeed, +that made me want to rush to those guns and turn them to my own mad +purpose of vengeance. + +It was all I could do, I tell you, to restrain myself--to check that +wild, almost ungovernable impulse to rush to the guns and grapple +with them myself--myself fire them at the men who had killed my boy. +I wanted to fight! I wanted to fight with my two hands--to tear and +rend, and have the consciousness that I flash back, like a telegraph +message from my satiated hands to my eager brain that was spurring me on. + +But that was not to be. I knew it, and I grew calmer, presently. The +roughness of the going helped me to do that, for it took all a man's +wits and faculties to grope his way along the path we were following +now. Indeed, it was no path at all that led us to the Pimple--the +topmost point of Vimy Ridge, which changed hands half a dozen times +in the few minutes of bloody fighting that had gone on here during +the great attack. + +The ground was absolutely riddled with shell holes here. There must +have been a mine of metal underneath us. What path there was +zigzagged around. It had been worn to such smoothness as it possessed +since the battle, and it evaded the worst craters by going around +them. My madness was passed now, and a great sadness had taken its +place. For here, where I was walking, men had stumbled up with +bullets and shells raining about them. At every step I trod ground +that must have been the last resting-place of some Canadian soldier, +who had died that I might climb this ridge in a safety so +immeasurably greater than his had been. + +If it was hard for us to make this climb, if we stumbled as we walked, +what had it been for them? Our breath came hard and fast--how had it +been with them? Yet they had done it! They had stormed the ridge the +Huns had proudly called impregnable. They had taken, in a swift rush, +that nothing could stay, a position the Kaiser's generals had assured +him would never be lost--could never be reached by mortal troops. + +The Pimple, for which we were heading now, was an observation post at +that time. There there was a detachment of soldiers, for it was an +important post, covering much of the Hun territory beyond. A major of +infantry was in command; his headquarters were a large hole in the +ground, dug for him by a German shell--fired by German gunners who had +no thought further from their minds than to do a favor for a British +officer. And he was sitting calmly in front of his headquarters, +smoking a pipe, when we reached the crest and came to the Pimple. + +He was a very calm man, that major, given, I should say, to the +greatest repression. I think nothing would have moved him from that +phlegmatic calm of his! He watched us coming, climbing and making +hard going of it. If he was amused he gave no sign, as he puffed at +his pipe. I, for one, was puffing, too--I was panting like a grampus. +I had thought myself in good condition, but I found out at Vimy Ridge +that I was soft and flabby. + +Not a sign did that major give until we reached him. And then, as we +stood looking at him, and beyond him at the panorama of the trenches, +he took his pipe from his mouth. + +"Welcome to Vimy Ridge!" he said, in the manner of a host greeting a +party bidden for the weekend. + +I was determined that that major should not outdo me. I had precious +little wind left to breathe with, much less to talk, but I called for +the last of it. + +"Thank you, major," I said. "May I join you in a smoke?" + +"Of course you can!" he said, unsmiling. + +"That is, if you've brought your pipe with you." "Aye, I've my pipe," +I told him. "I may forget to pay my debt, but I'll never forget my +pipe." And no more I will. + +So I sat down beside him, and drew out my pipe, and made a long +business of filling it, and pushing the tobacco down just so, since +that gave me a chance to get my wind. And when I was ready to light +up I felt better, and I was breathing right, so that I could talk as +I pleased without fighting for breath. + +My friend the major proved an entertaining chap, and a talkative one, +too, for all his seeming brusqueness. He pointed out the spots that +had been made famous in the battle, and explained to me what it was +the Canadians had done. And I saw and understood better than ever +before what a great feat that had been, and how heavily it had +counted. He lent me his binoculars, too, and with them I swept the +whole valley toward Lens, where the great French coal mines are, and +where the Germans have been under steady fire so long, and have been +hanging on by their eyelashes. + +It was not the place I should choose, ordinarily, to do a bit of +sight-seeing. The German shells were still humming through the air +above us, though not quite so often as they had. But there were +enough of them, and they seemed to me close enough for me to feel the +wind they raised as they passed. I thought for sure one of them would +come along, presently, and clip my ears right off. And sometimes I +felt myself ducking my head--as if that would do me any good! But I +did not think about it; I would feel myself doing it, without having +intended to do anything of the sort. I was a bit nervous, I suppose, +but no one could be really scared or alarmed in the unplumbable +depths of calm in which that British major was plunged! + +It was a grand view I had of the valley, but it was not the sort of +thing I had expected to see. I knew there were thousands of men +there, and I think I had expected to see men really fighting. But +there was nothing of the sort. Not a man could I see in all the +valley. They were under cover, of course. When I stopped to think +about it, that was what I should have expected, of course. If I could +have seen our laddies there below, why, the Huns could have seen them +too. And that would never have done. + +I could hear our guns, too, now, very well. They were giving voice +all around me, but never a gun could I see, for all my peering and +searching around. Even the battery we had passed below was out of +sight now. And it was a weird thing, and an uncanny thing to think of +all that riot of sound around, and not a sight to be had of the +batteries that were making it! + +Hogge came up while I was talking to the major. "Hello!" he said. +"What have you done to your knee, Lauder?" + +I looked down and saw a trickle of blood running down, below my knee. +It was bare, of course, because I wore my kilt. + +"Oh, that's nothing," I said. + +I knew at once what it was. I remembered that, as I stumbled up the +hill, I had tripped over a bit of barbed wire and scratched my leg. +And so I explained. + +"And I fell into a shell-hole, too," I said. "A wee one, as they go +around here." But I laughed. "Still, I'll be able to say I was +wounded on Vimy Ridge." + +I glanced at the major as I said that, and was half sorry I had made +the poor jest. And I saw him smile, in one corner of his mouth, as I +said I had been "wounded." It was the corner furthest from me, but I +saw it. And it was a dry smile, a withered smile. I could guess his +thought. + +"Wounded!" he must have said to himself, scornfully. And he must have +remembered the real wounds the Canadians had received on that +hillside. Aye, I could guess his thought. And I shared it, although I +did not tell him so. But I think he understood. + +He was still sitting there, puffing away at his old pipe, as quiet +and calm and imperturbable as ever, when Captain Godfrey gathered us +together to go on. He gazed out over the valley. + +He was a man to be remembered for a long time, that major. I can see +him now, in my mind's eye, sitting there, brooding, staring out +toward Lens and the German lines. And I think that if I were choosing +a figure for some great sculptor to immortalize, to typify and +represent the superb, the majestic imperturbability of the British +Empire in time of stress and storm, his would be the one. I could +think of no finer figure than his for such a statue. You would see +him, if the sculptor followed my thought, sitting in front of his +shell-hole on Vimy Ridge, calm, dispassionate, devoted to his duty +and the day's work, quietly giving the directions that guided the +British guns in their work of blasting the Hun out of the refuge he +had chosen when the Canadians had driven him from the spot where the +major sat. + +It was easier going down Vimy Ridge than it had been coming up, but +it was hard going still. We had to skirt great, gaping holes torn by +monstrous shells--shells that had torn the very guts out of the +little hill. + +"We're going to visit another battery," said Captain Godfrey. "I'll +tell you I think it's the best hidden battery on the whole British +front! And that's saying a good deal, for we've learned a thing or +two about hiding our whereabouts from Fritz. He's a curious one, +Fritz is, but we try not to gratify his curiosity any more than we +must." + +"I'll be glad to see more of the guns," I said. + +"Well, here you'll see more than guns. The major in command at this +battery we're heading for has a decoration that was given to him just +for the way he hid his guns. There's much more than fighting that a +man has to do in this war if he's to make good." + +As we went along I kept my eyes open, trying to get a peep at the +guns before Godfrey should point them out to me. I could hear firing +going on all around me, but there was so much noise that my ears were +not a guide. I was not a trained observer, of course; I would not +know a gun position at sight, as some soldier trained to the work +would be sure to do. And yet I thought I could tell when I was coming +to a great battery. I thought so, I say! + +Again, though I had that feeling of something weird and uncanny. For +now, as we walked along, I did hear the guns, and I was sure, from +the nature of the sound, that we were coming close to them. But, as I +looked straight toward the spot where my ears told me that they must +be, I could see nothing at all. I thought that perhaps Godfrey had +lost his way, and that we were wandering along the wrong path. It did +not seem likely, but it was possible. + +And then, suddenly, when I was least expecting it, we stopped. + +"Well--here we are!" said the captain, and grinned at our amazement. + +And there we were indeed! We were right among the guns of a Canadian +battery, and the artillerymen were shouting their welcome, for they +had heard that I was coming, and recognized me as soon as they saw +me. But--how had we got here? I looked around me, in utter amazement. +Even now that I had come to the battery I could not understand how it +was that I had been deceived--how that battery had been so marvelously +concealed that, if one did not know of its existence and of its exact +location, one might literally stumble over it in broad daylight! + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +It had turned very hot, now, at the full of the day. Indeed, it was +grilling weather, and there in the battery, in a hollow, close down +beside a little run or stream, it was even hotter than on the +shell-swept bare top of the ridge. So the Canadian gunners had +stripped down for comfort. Not a man had more than his under-shirt on +above his trousers, and many of them were naked to the waist, with +their hide tanned to the color of old saddles. + +These laddies reminded me of those in the first battery I had seen. +They were just as calm, and just as dispassionate as they worked in +their mill--it might well have been a mill in which I saw them +working. Only they were no grinding corn, but death--death for the +Huns, who had brought death to so many of their mates. But there was +no excitement, there were no cries of hatred and anger. + +They were hard at work. Their work, it seemed, never came to an end +or even to a pause. The orders rang out, in a sort of sing-song +voice. After each shot a man who sat with a telephone strapped about +his head called out corrections of the range, in figures that were +just a meaningless jumble to me, although they made sense to the men +who listened and changed the pointing of the guns at each order. + +[ILLUSTRATION: Capt. John Lauder and Comrades Before The Trenches In +France (See Lauder07.jpg)] + +Their faces, that, like their bare backs and chests, looked like +tanned leather, were all grimy from their work among the smoke and +the gases. And through the grime the sweat had run down like little +rivers making courses for themselves in the soft dirt of a hillside. +They looked grotesque enough, but there was nothing about them to +make me feel like laughing, I can tell you! And they all grinned +amiably when the amazed and disconcerted Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., +Tour came tumbling in among them. We all felt right at hame at once-- +and I the more so when a chap I had met and come to know well in +Toronto during one of my American tours came over and gripped my hand. + +"Aye, but it's good to see your face, Harry!" he said, as he made +me welcome. + +This battery had done great work ever since it had come out. No +battery in the whole army had a finer record, I was told. And no one +needed to tell me the tale of its losses. Not far away there was a +little cemetery, filled with doleful little crosses, set up over +mounds that told their grim story all too plainly and too eloquently. + +The battery had gone through the Battle of Vimy Ridge and made a +great name for itself. And now it was set down upon a spot that had +seen some of the very bloodiest of the fighting on that day. I saw +here, for the first time, some of the most horrible things that the +war holds. There was a little stream, as I said, that ran through the +hollow in which the battery was placed, and that stream had been +filled with blood, not water, on the day of the battle. + +Everywhere, here, were whitened bones of men. In the wild swirling of +the battle, and the confusion of digging in and meeting German +counter attacks that had followed it, it had not been possible to +bury all the dead. And so the whitened bones remained, though the +elements had long since stripped them bare. The elements--and the +hungry rats. These are not pretty things to tell, but they are true, +and the world should know what war is to-day. + +I almost trod upon one skeleton that remained complete. It was that +of a huge German soldier--a veritable giant of a man, he must have +been. The bones of his feet were still encased in his great boots, +their soles heavily studded with nails. Even a few shreds of his +uniform remained. But the flesh was all gone. The sun and the rats +and the birds had accounted for the last morsel of it. + +Hundreds of years from now, I suppose, the bones that were strewn +along that ground will still be being turned up by plows. The +generations to come who live there will never lack relics of the +battle, and of the fighting that preceded and followed it. They will +find bones, and shell cases, and bits of metal of all sorts. Rusty +bayonets will be turned up by their plowshares; strange coins, as +puzzling as some of those of Roman times that we in Britain have +found, will puzzle them. Who can tell how long it will be before the +soil about Vimy Ridge will cease to give up its relics? + +That ground had been searched carefully for everything that might +conceivably be put to use again, or be made fit for further service. +The British army searches every battlefield so in these days. And +yet, when I was there, many weeks after the storm of fighting had +passed on, and when the scavengers had done their work, the ground +was still rather thickly strewn with odds and ends that interested me +vastly. I might have picked up much more than I did. But I could not +carry so very much, and, too, so many of the things brought grisly +thoughts to my mind! God knows I needed no reminders of the war! I +had a reminder in my heart, that never left me. Still, I took some +few things, more for the sake of the hame folks, who might not see, +and would, surely, be interested. I gathered some bayonets for my +collection--somehow they seemed the things I was most willing to take +along. One was British, one German--two were French. + +But the best souvenir of all I got at Vimy Ridge I did not pick up. +It was given to me by my friend, the grave major--him of whom I would +like some famous sculptor to make a statue as he sat at his work of +observation. That was a club--a wicked looking instrument. This club +had a great thick head, huge in proportion to its length and size, +and this head was studded with great, sharp nails. A single blow from +it would finish the strongest man that ever lived. It was a fit +weapon for a murderer--and a murderer had wielded it. The major had +taken it from a Hun, who had meant to use it--had, doubtless, used +it!--to beat out the brains of wounded men, lying on the ground. Many +of those clubs were taken from the Germans, all along the front, both +by the British and the French, and the Germans had never made any +secret of the purpose for which they were intended. Well, they picked +poor men to try such tactics on when they went against the Canadians! + +The Canadians started no such work, but they were quick to adopt a +policy of give and take. It was the Canadians who began the trench +raids for which the Germans have such a fierce distaste, and after +they had learned something of how Fritz fought the Canadians took to +paying him back in some of his own coin. Not that they matched the +deeds of the Huns--only a Hun could do that. But the Canadians were +not eager to take prisoners. They would bomb a dugout rather than +take its occupants back. And a dugout that has been bombed yields few +living men! + +Who shall blame them? Not I--nor any other man who knows what lessons +in brutality and treachery the Canadians have had from the Hun. It was +the Canadians, near Ypres, who went through the first gas attack--that +fearful day when the Germans were closer to breaking through than they +ever were before or since. I shall not set down here all the tales I +heard of the atrocities of the Huns. Others have done that. Men have +written of that who have firsthand knowledge, as mine cannot be. I +know only what has been told to me, and there is little need of hearsay +evidence. There is evidence enough that any court would accept as hanging +proof. But this much it is right to say--that no troops along the Western +front have more to revenge than have the Canadians. + +It is not the loss of comrades, dearly loved though they be, that +breeds hatred among the soldiers. That is a part of war, and always +was. The loss of friends and comrades may fire the blood. It may lead +men to risk their own lives in a desperate charge to get even. But it +is a pain that does not rankle and that does not fester like a sore +that will not heal. It is the tales the Canadians have to tell of +sheer, depraved torture and brutality that has inflamed them to the +pitch of hatred that they cherish. It has seemed as if the Germans +had a particular grudge against the Canadians. And that, indeed, is +known to be the case. The Germans harbored many a fond illusion before +the war. They thought that Britain would not fight, first of all. + +And then, when Britain did declare war, they thought they could +speedily destroy her "contemptible little army." Ah, weel--they did +come near to destroying it! But not until it had helped to balk them +of their desire--not until it had played its great and decisive part +in ruining the plans the Hun had been making and perfecting for +forty-four long years. And not until it had served as a dyke behind +which floods of men in the khaki of King George had had time to arm +and drill to rush out to oppose the gray-green floods that had swept +through helpless Belgium. + +They had other illusions, beside that major one that helped to wreck +them. They thought there would be a rebellion and civil war in +Ireland. They took too seriously the troubles of the early summer of +1914, when Ulster and the South of Ireland were snapping and snarling +at each other's throats. They looked for a new mutiny in India, which +should keep Britain's hands full. They expected strikes at home. But, +above all, they were sure that the great, self-governing dependencies +of Britain, that made up the mighty British Empire, would take no +part in the fight. + +Canada, Australasia, South Africa--they never reckoned upon having to +cope with them. These were separate nations, they thought, +independent in fact if not in name, which would seize the occasion to +separate themselves entirely from the mother country. In South Africa +they were sure that there would be smoldering discontent enough left +from the days of the Boer war to break out into a new flame of war +and rebellion at this great chance. + +And so it drove them mad with fury when they learned that Canada and +all the rest had gone in, heart and soul. And when even their poison +gas could not make the Canadians yield; when, later still, they +learned that the Canadians were their match, and more than their +match, in every phase of the great game of war, their rage led them +to excesses against the men from overseas even more damnable than +those that were their general practice. + +These Canadians, who were now my hosts, had located their guns in a +pit triangular in shape. The guns were mounted at the corners of the +triangle, and along its sides. And constantly, while I was there they +coughed their short, sharp coughs and sent a spume of metal flying +toward the German lines. Never have I seen a busier spot. And, +remember--until I had almost fallen into that pit, with its +sputtering, busy guns, I had not been able to make even a good guess +as to where they were! The very presence of this workshop of death +was hidden from all save those who had a right to know of it. + +It was a masterly piece of camouflage. I wish I could explain to you +how the effect was achieved. It was all made plain to me; every step +of the process was explained, and I cried out in wonder and in +admiration at the clever simplicity of it. But that is one of the +things I may not tell. I saw many things, during my time at the +front, that the Germans would give a pretty penny to know. But none +of the secrets that I learned would be more valuable, even to-day, +than that of that hidden battery. And so--I must leave you in +ignorance as to that. + +The commanding officer was most kindly and patient in explaining +matters to me. + +"We can't see hide nor hair of our targets here, of course," he said, +"any more than Fritz can see us. We get all our ranges and the +records of all our hits, from Normabell." + +I looked a question, I suppose. + +"You called on him, I think--up on the Pimple. Major Normabell, D.S.O." + +That was how I learned the name of the imperturbable major with whom +I had smoked a pipe on the crest of Vimy Ridge. I shall always +remember his name and him. I saw no man in France who made a livelier +impression upon my mind and my imagination. + +"Aye," I said. "I remember. So that's his name--Normabell, D.S.O. +I'll make a note of that." + +My informant smiled. + +"Normabell's one of our characters," he said. "Well, you see he +commands a goodish bit of country there where he sits. And when he +needs them he has aircraft observations to help him, too. He's our +pair of eyes. We're like moles down here, we gunners--but he does all +our seeing for us. And he's in constant communication--he or one of +his officers." + +I wondered where all the shells the battery was firing were headed +for. And I learned that just then it was paying its respects +particularly to a big factory building just west of Lens. For some +reason that had been marked for destruction, but it had been +reinforced and strengthened so that it was taking a lot of smashing +and standing a good deal more punishment than anyone had thought it +could--which was reason enough, in itself, to stick to the job until +that factory was nothing more than a heap of dust and ruins. + +The way the guns kept pounding away at it made me think of firemen in +a small town drenching a local blaze with their hose. The gunners +were just so eager as that. And I could almost see that factory, +crumbling away. Major Normabell had pointed it out to me, up on the +ridge, and now I knew why. I'll venture to say that before night the +eight-inch howitzers of that battery had utterly demolished it, and +so ended whatever usefulness it had had for the Germans. + +It was cruel business to be knocking the towns and factories of our +ally, France, to bits in the fashion that we were doing that day-- +there and at many another point along the front. The Huns are fond of +saying that much of the destruction in Northern France has been the +work of allied artillery. True enough--but who made that inevitable +And it was not our guns that laid waste a whole countryside before +the German retreat in the spring of 1917, when the Huns ran wild, +rooting up fruit trees, cutting down every other tree that could be +found, and doing every other sort of wanton damage and mischief their +hands could find to do. + +"Hard lines," said the battery commander. He shrugged his shoulders. +"No use trying to spare shells here, though, even on French towns. +The harder we smash them the sooner it'll be over. Look here, sir." + +He pointed out the men who sat, their telephone receivers strapped +over their ears. Each served a gun. In all that hideous din it was of +the utmost importance that they should hear correctly every word and +figure that came to them over the wire--a part of that marvelously +complete telephone and telegraph system that has been built for and +by the British army in France. + +"They get corrections on every shot," he told me. "The guns are +altered in elevation according to what they hear. The range is +changed, and the pointing, too. We never see old Fritz--but we know +he's getting the visiting cards we send him." + +They were amazingly calm, those laddies at the telephones. In all +that hideous, never-ending din, they never grew excited. Their voices +were calm and steady as they repeated the orders that came to them. I +have seen girls at hotel switchboards, expert operators, working with +conditions made to their order, who grew infinitely more excited at a +busy time, when many calls were coming in and going out. Those men +might have been at home, talking to a friend of their plans for an +evening's diversion, for all the nervousness or fussiness they showed. + +Up there, on the Pimple, I had seen Normabell, the eyes of the +battery. Here I was watching its ears. And, to finish the metaphor, +to work it out, I was listening to its voice. Its brazen tongues were +giving voice continually. The guns--after all, everything else led up +to them. They were the reason for all the rest of the machinery of +the battery, and it was they who said the last short word. + +There was a good deal of rough joking and laughter in the battery. +The Canadian gunners took their task lightly enough, though their +work was of the hardest--and of the most dangerous, too. But jokes +ran from group to group, from gun to gun. They were constantly +kidding one another, as an American would say, I think. If a +correction came for one gun that showed there had been a mistake in +sighting after the last orders--if, that is, the gunners, and not the +distant observers, were plainly at fault--there would be a +good-natured outburst of chaffing from all the others. + +But, though such a spirit of lightness prevailed, there was not a +moment of loafing. These men were engaged in a grim, deadly task, +and every once in a while I would catch a black, purposeful look +in a man's eyes that made me realize that, under all the light +talk and laughter there was a perfect realization of the truth. +They might not show, on the surface, that they took life and their +work seriously. Ah, no! They preferred, after the custom of their +race, to joke with death. + +And so they were doing quite literally. The Germans knew perfectly +well that there was a battery somewhere near the spot where I had +found my gunners. Only the exact location was hidden from them, and +they never ceased their efforts to determine that. Fritz's airplanes +were always trying to sneak over to get a look. An airplane was the +only means of detection the Canadians feared. No--I will not say they +feared it! The word fear did not exist for that battery! But it was +the only way in which there was a tolerable chance, even, for Fritz +to locate them, and, for the sake of the whole operation at that +point, as well as for their own interest, they were eager to avoid +that. + +German airplanes were always trying to sneak over, I say, but nearly +always our men of the Royal Flying Corps drove them back. We came as +close, just then, to having command of the air in that sector as any +army does these days. You cannot quite command or control the air. A +few hostile flyers can get through the heaviest barrage and the +staunchest air patrol. And so, every once in a while, an alarm would +sound, and all hands would crane their necks upward to watch an +airplane flying above with an iron cross painted upon its wings. + +Then, and, as a rule, then only, fire would cease for a few minutes. +There was far less chance of detection when the guns were still. At +the height at which our archies--so the anti-aircraft guns are called +by Tommy Atkins--forced the Boche to fly there was little chance of +his observers picking out this battery, at least, against the ground. +If the guns were giving voice that chance was tripled--and so they +stopped, at such times, until a British flyer had had time to engage +the Hun and either bring him down or send him scurrying for the safe +shelter behind his own lines. + +Fritz, in the air, liked to have the odds with him, as a rule. It was +exceptional to find a German flyer like Boelke who really went in for +single-handed duels in the air. As a rule they preferred to attack a +single plane with half a dozen, and so make as sure as they could of +victory at a minimum of risk. But that policy did not always work-- +sometimes the lone British flyer came out ahead, despite the odds +against him. + +There was a good deal of firing on general principles from Fritz. His +shells came wandering querulously about, striking on every side of +the battery. Occasionally, of course, there was a hit that was +direct, or nearly so. And then, as a rule, a new mound or two would +appear in the little cemetery, and a new set of crosses that, for a +few days, you might easily enough have marked for new because they +would not be weathered yet. But such hits were few and far between, +and they were lucky, casual shots, of which the Germans themselves +did not have the satisfaction of knowing. + +"Of course, if they get our range, really, and find out all about us, +we'll have to move," said the officer in command. "That would be a +bore, but it couldn't be helped. We're a fixed target, you see, as +soon as they know just where we are, and they can turn loose a +battery of heavy howitzers against us and clear us out of here in no +time. But we're pretty quick movers when we have to move! It's great +sport, in a way too, sometimes. We leave all the camouflage behind, +and some-times Fritz will spend a week shelling a position that was +moved away at the first shell that came as if it meant they really +were on to us." + +I wondered how a battery commander would determine the difference +between a casual hit and the first shell of a bombardment definitely +planned and accurately placed. + +"You can tell, as a rule, if you know the game," he said. "There'll +be searching shells, you see. There'll be one too far, perhaps. And +then, after a pretty exact interval, there'll be another, maybe a bit +short. Then one to the left--and then to the right. By that time +we're off as a rule--we don't wait for the one that will be scored a +hit! If you're quick, you see, you can beat Fritz to it by keeping +your eyes open, and being ready to move in a hurry when he's got a +really good argument to make you do it." + +But while I was there, while Fritz was inquisitive enough, his +curiosity got him nowhere. There were no casual hits, even, and there +was nothing to make the battery feel that it must be making ready for +a quick trek. + +Was that no a weird, strange game of hide and seek that I watched +being played at Vimy Ridge? It gave me the creeps, that idea of +battling with an enemy you could not see! It must be hard, at times, +I think, for, the gunners to realize that they are actually at war. +But, no--there is always the drone and the squawking of the German +shells, and the plop-plop, from time to time, as one finds its mark +in the mud nearby. But to think of shooting always at an enemy you +cannot see! + +It brought to my mind a tale I had heard at hame in Scotland. There +was a hospital in Glasgow, and there a man who had gone to see a +friend stopped, suddenly, in amazement, at the side of a cot. He +looked down at features that were familiar to him. The man in the cot +was not looking at him, and the visitor stood gaping, staring at him +in the utmost astonishment and doubt. + +"I say, man," he asked, at last, "are ye not Tamson, the baker?" + +The wounded man opened his eyes, and looked up, weakly. + +"Aye," he said. "I'm Tamson, the baker." His voice was weak, and he +looked tired. But he looked puzzled, too. + +"Weel, Tamson, man, what's the matter wi' ye?" asked the other. "I +didna hear that ye were sick or hurt. How comes it ye are here? Can +it be that ye ha' been to the war, man, and we not hearing of it, +at all?" + +"Aye, I think so," said Tamson, still weakly, but as if he were +rather glad of a chance to talk, at that. + +"Ye think so?" asked his friend, in greater astonishment than ever. +"Man, if ye've been to the war do ye not know it for sure and +certain?" + +"Well, I will tell ye how it is," said Tamson, very slowly and +wearily. "I was in the reserve, do ye ken. And I was standin' in +front of my hoose one day in August, thinkin' of nothin' at all. I +marked a man who was coming doon the street, wi' a blue paper in his +hand, and studyin' the numbers on the doorplates. But I paid no great +heed to him until he stopped and spoke to me. + +"He had stopped outside my hoose and looked at the number, and then +at his blue paper. And then he turned to me. + +"'Are ye Tamson, the baker?' he asked me--just as ye asked me that +same question the noo. + +"And I said to him, just as I said it to ye, 'Aye, I'm Tamson, +the baker.' + +"'Then it's Hamilton Barracks for ye, Tamson,' he said, and handed me +the blue paper. + +"Four hours from the time when he handed me the blue paper in front +of my hoose in Glasgow I was at Hamilton Barracks. In twelve hours I +was in Southhampton. In twenty hours I was in France. And aboot as +soon as I got there I was in a lot of shooting and running this way +and that that they ha' told me since was the Battle of the Marne. + +"And in twenty-four hours more I was on my way back to Glasgow! In +forty-eight hours I woke up in Stobe Hill Infirmary and the nurse was +saying in my ear: 'Ye're all richt the noon, Tamson. We ha' only just +amputated your leg!' + +"So I think I ha' been to the war, but I can only say I think so. I +only know what I was told--that ha' never seen a damn German yet!" + +That is a true story of Tamson the baker. And his experience has +actually been shared by many a poor fellow--and by many another who +might have counted himself lucky if he had lost no more than a leg, +as Tamson did. + +But the laddies of my battery, though they were shooting now at +Germans they could not see, had had many a close up view of Fritz in +the past, and expected many another in the future. Maybe they will +get one, some time, after the fashion of the company of which my boy +John once told me. + +The captain of this company--a Hieland company, it was, though not of +John's regiment--had spent must of his time in London before the war, +and belonged to several clubs, which, in those days, employed many +Germans as servants and waiters. He was a big man, and he had a deep, +bass voice, so that he roared like the bull of Bashan when he had a +mind to raise it for all to hear. + +One day things were dull in his sector. The front line trench was not +far from that of the Germans, but there was no activity beyond that +of the snipers, and the Germans were being so cautious that ours were +getting mighty few shots. The captain was bored, and so were the men. + +"How would you like a pot shot, lads?" he asked. + +"Fine!" came the answer. "Fine, sir!" + +"Very well," said the captain. "Get ready with your rifles, and keep +your eyes on you trench." + +It was not more than thirty yards away--pointblank range. The captain +waited until they were ready. And then his voice rang out in its +loudest, most commanding roar. + +"Waiter!" he shouted. + +Forty helmets popped up over the German parapet, and a storm of +bullets swept them away! + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +It was getting late--for men who had had so early a breakfast as we +had had to make to get started in good time. And just as I was +beginning to feel hungry--odd, it seemed to me, that such a thing as +lunch should stay in my mind in such surroundings and when so many +vastly more important things were afoot!--the major looked at his +wrist watch. + +"By Jove!" he said, "Lunch time! Gentlemen--you'll accept such +hospitality as we can offer you at our officer's mess?" + +There wasn't any question about acceptance! We all said we were +delighted, and we meant it. I looked around for a hut or some such +place, or even for a tent, and, seeing nothing of the sort, wondered +where we might be going to eat. I soon found out. The major led the +way underground, into a dugout. This was the mess. It was hard by the +guns, and in a hole that had been dug out, quit literally. Here there +was a certain degree of safety. In these dugouts every phase of the +battery's life except the actual serving of the guns went on. +Officers and men alike ate and slept in them. + +They were much snugger within than you might fancy. A lot of the men +had given homelike touches to their habitations. Pictures cut from +the illustrated papers at home, which are such prime favorites with +all the Tommies made up a large part of the decorative scheme. +Pictures of actresses predominated; the Tommies didn't go in for war +pictures. Indeed, there is little disposition to hammer the war home +at you in a dugout. The men don't talk about it or think about, save +as they must; you hear less talk about the war along the front than +you do at home. I heard a story at Vimy Ridge of a Tommy who had come +back to the trenches after seeing Blighty for the first time in +months. + +"Hello, Bill," said one of his mates. "Back again, are you? How's +things in Blighty?" "Oh, all right," said Bill. + +Then he looked around. He pricked his ears as a shell whined above +him. And he took out his pipe and stuffed it full of tobacco, and +lighted it, and sat back. He sighed in the deepest content as the +smoke began to curl upward. + +"Bli'me, Bill--I'd say, to look at you, you was glad to be back +here!" said his mate, astonished. + +"Well, I ain't so sorry, and that's a fact," said Bill. "I tell you +how it is, Alf. Back there in Blighty they don't talk about nothing +but this bloody war. I'm fair fed up with it, that I am! I'm glad to +be back here, where I don't have to 'ear about the war every bleedin' +minute!" + +That story sounds far fetched to you, perhaps, but it isn't. War talk +is shop talk to the men who are fighting it and winning it, and it is +perfectly true and perfectly reasonable, too, that they like to get +away from it when they can, just as any man likes to get away from +the thought of his business or his work when he isn't at the office +or the factory or the shop. + +Captain Godfrey explained to me, as we went into the mess hall for +lunch, that the dugouts were really pretty safe. Of course there were +dangers--where are there not along that strip of land that runs from +the North Sea to Switzerland in France and Belgium? + +"A direct hit from a big enough shell would bury us all," he said. +"But that's not likely--the chances are all against it. And, even +then, we'd have a chance. I've seen men dug out alive from a hole +like this after a shell from one of their biggest howitzers had +landed square upon it." + +But I had no anxiety to form part of an experiment to prove the truth +or the falsity of that suggestion! I was glad to know that the +chances of a shell's coming along were pretty slim. + +Conditions were primitive at that mess. The refinements of life were +lacking, to be sure--but who cared? Certainly the hungry members of +the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour did not! We ate from a rough +deal table, sitting on rude benches that had a decidedly home-made +look. But--we had music with our meals, just like the folks in London +at the Savoy or in New York at Sherry's! It was the incessant thunder +of the guns that served as the musical accompaniment of our lunch, +and I was already growing to love that music. I could begin, now, to +distinguish degrees of sound and modulations of all sorts in the +mighty diapason of the cannon. It was as if a conductor were leading +an orchestra, and as if it responded instantly to every suggestion of +his baton. + +There was not much variety to the food, but there was plenty of it, +and it was good. There was bully beef, of course; that is the real +staff of life for the British army. And there were potatoes, in +plentiful supply, and bread and butter, and tea--there is always tea +where Tommy or his officers are about! There was a lack of table +ware; a dainty soul might not have liked the thought of spreading his +butter on his bread with his thumb, as we had to do. But I was too +hungry to be fastidious, myself. + +Because the mess had guests there was a special dish in our honor. +One of the men had gone over--at considerable risk of his life, as I +learned later--to the heap of stones and dust that had once been the +village of Givenchy. There he had found a lot of gooseberries. The +French call them grossets, as we in Scotland do, too--although the +pronunciation of the word is different in the two languages, of +course. There had been gardens around the houses of Givenchy once, +before the place had been made into a desert of rubble and brickdust. +And, somehow, life had survived in those bruised and battered +gardens, and the delicious mess of gooseberries that we had for +dessert stood as proof thereof. + +The meal was seasoned by good talk. I love to hear the young British +officers talk. It is a liberal education. They have grown so wise, +those boys! Those of them who come back when the war is over will +have the world at their feet, indeed. Nothing will be able to stop +them or to check them in their rise. They have learned every great +lesson that a man must learn if he is to succeed in the affairs of +life. Self control is theirs, and an infinite patience, and a dogged +determination that refuses to admit that there are any things that a +man cannot do if he only makes up his mind that he must and will do +them. For the British army has accomplished the impossible, time +after time; it has done things that men knew could not be done. + +And so we sat and talked, as we smoked, after the meal, until the +major rose, at last, and invited me to walk around the battery again +with him. I could ask questions now, having seen the men at work, and +he explained many things I wanted to know--and which Fritz would like +to know, too, to this day! But above all I was fascinated by the work +of the gunners. I kept trying, in my mind's eye, to follow the course +of the shells that were dispatched so calmly upon their errands of +destruction. My imagination played with the thought of what they were +doing at the other end of their swift voyage through the air. I +pictured the havoc that must be wrought when one made a clean hit. + +And, suddenly, I was swept by that same almost irresistible desire to +be fighting myself that had come over me when I had seen the other +battery. If I could only play my part! If I could fire even a single +shot--if I, with my own hands, could do that much against those who +had killed my boy! And then, incredulously, I heard the words in my +ear. It was the major. + +"Would you like to try a shot, Harry?" he asked me. + +Would I? I stared at him. I couldn't believe my ears. It was as if he +had read my thoughts. I gasped out some sort of an affirmative. My +blood was boiling at the very thought, and the sweat started from my +pores. + +"All right--nothing easier!" said the major, smiling. "I had an idea +you were wanting to take a hand, Harry." + +He led me toward one of the guns, where the sweating crew was +especially active, as it seemed to me. They grinned at me as they saw +me coming. + +"Here's old Harry Lauder come to take a crack at them himself," I +heard one man say to another. + +"Good for him! The more the merrier!" answered his mate. He was an +American--would ye no know it from his speech? + +I was trembling with eagerness. I wondered if my shot would tell. I +tried to visualize its consequences. It might strike some vital spot. +It might kill some man whose life was of the utmost value to the +enemy. It might--it might do anything! And I knew that my shot would +be watched; Normabell, sitting up there on the Pimple in his little +observatory, would watch it, as he did all of that battery's shots. +Would be make a report? + +Everything was made ready. The gun recoiled from the previous shot; +swiftly it was swabbed out. A new shell was handed up; I looked it +over tenderly. That was my shell! I watched the men as they placed it +and saw it disappear with a jerk. Then came the swift sighting of the +gun, the almost inperceptible corrections of elevation and position. + +They showed me my place. After all, it was the simplest of matters to +fire even the biggest of guns. I had but to pull a lever. All morning +I had been watching men do that. I knew it was but a perfunctory act. +But I could not feel that! I was thrilled and excited as I had never +been in all my life before. + +"All ready! Fire!" + +The order rang in my ears. And I pulled the lever, as hard as I +could. The great gun sprang into life as I moved the lever. I heard +the roar of the explosion, and it seemed to me that it was a louder +bark than any gun I had heard had given! It was not, of course, and +so, down in my heart, I knew. There was no shade of variation between +that shot and all the others that had been fired. But it pleased me +to think so--it pleases me, sometimes, to think so even now. Just as +it pleases me to think that that long snouted engine of war propelled +that shell, under my guiding hand, with unwonted accuracy and +effectiveness! Perhaps I was childish, to feel as I did; indeed, I +have no doubt that that was so. But I dinna care! + +There was no report by telephone from Normabell about that particular +shot; I hung about a while, by the telephone listeners, hoping one +would come. And it disappointed me that no attention was paid to +that shot. + +"Probably simply means it went home," said Godfrey. "A shot that acts +just as it should doesn't get reported." + +But I was disappointed, just the same. And yet the sensation is one I +shall never forget, and I shall never cease to be glad that the major +gave me my chance. The most thrilling moment was that of the recoil +of the great gun. I felt exactly as one does when one dives into deep +water from a considerable height. + +"Good work, Harry!" said the major, warmly, when I had stepped down. +"I'll wager you wiped out a bit of the German trenches with that +shot! I think I'll draft you and keep you here as a gunner!" + +And the officers and men all spoke in the same way, smiling as they +did so. But I hae me doots! I'd like to think I did real damage with +my one shot, but I'm afraid my shell was just one of those that +turned up a bit of dirt and made one of those small brown eruptions I +had seen rising on all sides along the German lines as I had sat and +smoked my pipe with Normabell earlier in the day. + +"Well, anyway," I said, exultingly, "that's that! I hope I got two +for my one, at least!" + +But my exultation did not last long. I reflected upon the +inscrutability of war and of this deadly fighting that was going on +all about me. How casual a matter was this sending out of a shell +that could, in a flash of time, obliterate all that lived in a wide +circle about where it chanced to strike! The pulling of a lever--that +was all that I had done! And at any moment a shell some German gunner +had sent winging its way through the air in precisely that same, +casual fashion might come tearing into this quiet nook, guided by +some chance, lucky for him, and wipe out the major, and all the +pleasant boys with whom I had broken bread just now, and the sweating +gunners who had cheered me on as I fired my shot! + +I was to give a concert for this battery, and I felt that it was +time, now, for it to begin. I could see, too, that the men were +growing a bit impatient. And so I said that I was ready. + +"Then come along to our theater," said the major, and grinned at my +look of astonishment. + +"Oh, we've got a real amphitheater for you, such as the Greeks used +for the tragedies of Sophocles!" he said. "There it is!" + +He had not stretched the truth. It was a superb theater--a great, +crater-like hole in the ground. Certainly it was as well ventilated a +show house as you could hope for, and I found, when the time came, +that the acoustics were splendid. I went down into the middle of the +hole, with Hogge and Adam, who had become part of my company, and the +soldiers grouped themselves about its rim. + +Before we left Boulogne a definite programme had been laid out for +the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour. We had decided that we would +get better results by adopting a programme and sticking to it at all +our meetings or concerts. So, at all the assemblies that we gathered, +Hogge opened proceedings by talking to the men about pensions, the +subject in which he was so vitally interested, and in which he had +done and was doing such magnificent work. Adam would follow him with +a talk about the war and its progress. + +He was a splendid speaker, was Adam. He had all the eloquence of the +fine preacher that he was, but he did not preach to the lads in the +trenches--not he! He told them about the war, and about the way the +folks at hame in Britain were backing them up. He talked about war +loans and food conservation, and made them understand that it was not +they alone who were doing the fighting. It was a cheering and an +inspiring talk he gave them, and he got good round applause wherever +he spoke. + +They saved me up for the last, and when Adam had finished speaking +either he or Hogge would introduce me, and my singing would begin. +That was the programme we had arranged for the Hole-in-the-Ground +Theater, as the Canadians called their amphitheater. For this +performance, of course, I had no piano. Johnson and the wee +instrument were back where we had left the motor cars, and so I just +had to sing without an accompaniment--except that which the great +booming of the guns was to furnish me. + +I was afraid at first that the guns would bother me. But as I +listened to Hogge and Adam I ceased, gradually, to notice them at +all, and I soon felt that they would annoy me no more, when it was my +turn to go on, than the chatter of a bunch of stage hands in the +wings of a theater had so often done. + +When it was my turn I began with "Roamin' In the Gloamin'." The verse +went well, and I swung into the chorus. I had picked the song to open +with because I knew the soldiers were pretty sure to know it, and so +would join me in the chorus--which is something I always want them to +do. And these were no exceptions to the general rule. But, just as I +got into the chorus, the tune of the guns changed. They had been +coughing and spitting intermittently, but now, suddenly, it seemed to +me that it was as if someone had kicked the lid off the fireworks +factory and dropped a lighted torch inside. + +Every gun in the battery around the hole began whanging away at once. +I was jumpy and nervous, I'll admit, and it was all I could do to +hold to the pitch and not break the time. I thought all of Von +Hindenburg's army must be attacking us, and, from the row and din, +I judged he must have brought up some of the German navy to help, +instead of letting it lie in the Kiel canal where the British +fleet could not get at it. I never heard such a terrific racket +in all my days. + +I took the opportunity to look around at my audience. They didn't +seem to be a bit excited. They all had their eyes fixed on me, and +they weren't listening to the guns--only to me and my singing. And +so, as they probably knew what was afoot, and took it so quietly, I +managed to keep on singing as if I, too, were used to such a row, and +thought no more of it than of the ordinary traffic noise of a London +or a Glasgow street. But if I really managed to look that way my +appearances were most deceptive, because I was nearer to being scared +than I had been at any time yet! + +But presently I began to get interested in the noise of the guns. +They developed a certain regular rhythm. I had to allow for it, and +make it fit the time of what I was singing. And as I realized that +probably this was just a part of the regular day's work, a bit of +ordinary strafing, and not a feature of a grand attack, I took note +of the rhythm. It went something like this, as near as I can gie it +to you in print: + +"Roamin' in the--PUH--LAH--gloamin'--BAM! + +"On the--WHUFF!--BOOM!--bonny--BR-R-R!--banks o'--BIFF--Clyde--ZOW!" + +And so it went all through the rest of the concert. I had to adjust +each song I sang to that odd rhythm of the guns, and I don't know but +what it was just as well that Johnson wasn't there! He'd have had +trouble staying with me with his wee bit piano, I'm thinkin'! + +And, do you ken, I got to see, after a bit, that it was the gunners, +all the time, havin' a bit of fun with me! For when I sang a verse +the guns behaved themselves, but every time I came to the chorus they +started up the same inferno of noise again. I think they wanted to +see, at first, if they could no shake me enough to make me stop +singing, and they liked me the better when they found I would no +stop. The soldiers soon began to laugh, but the joke was not all on +me, and I could see that they understood that, and were pleased. +Indeed, it was all as amusing to me as to them. + +I doubt if "Roamin' in the Gloamin'" or any other song was ever sung +in such circumstances. I sang several more songs--they called, as +every audience I have seems to do, for me to sing my "Wee Hoose Amang +the Heather"--and then Captain Godfrey brought the concert to an end. +It was getting along toward midafternoon, and he explained that we +had another call to make before dark. + +"Good-by, Harry--good luck to you! Thanks for the singing!" + +Such cries rose from all sides, and the Canadians came crowding +around to shake my hand. It was touching to see how pleased they +were, and it made me rejoice that I had been able to come. I had +thought, sometimes, that it might be a presumptuous thing, in a way, +for me to want to go so near the front, but the way I had been able +to cheer up the lonely, dull routine of that battery went far to +justify me in coming, I thought. + +I was sorry to be leaving the Canadians. And I was glad to see that +they seemed as sorry to have me go as I was to be going. I have a +very great fondness for the Canadian soldier. He is certainly one of +the most picturesque and interesting of all the men who are fighting +under the flags of the Allies, and it is certain that the world can +never forget the record he has made in this war--a record of courage +and heroism unexcelled by any and equaled by few. + +I stood around while we were getting ready to start back to the cars, +and one of the officers was with me. + +"How often do you get a shell right inside the pit here?" I asked +him. "A fair hit, I mean?" + +"Oh, I don't know!" he said, slowly. He looked around. "You know that +hole you were singing in just now?" + +I nodded. I had guessed that it had been made by a shell. + +"Well, that's the result of a Boche shell," he said. "If you'd come +yesterday we'd have had to find another place for your concert!" + +"Oh--is that so!" I said. + +"Aye," he said, and grinned. "We didn't tell you before, Harry, +because we didn't want you to feel nervous, or anything like that, +while you were singing. But it was obliging of Fritz--now wasn't it? +Think of having him take all the trouble to dig out a fine theater +for us that way!" + +"It was obliging of him, to be sure," I said, rather dryly. + +"That's what we said," said the officer. "Why, as soon as I saw the +hole that shell had made, I said to Campbell: 'By Jove--there's +the very place for Harry Lauder's concert to-morrow!' And he agreed +with me!" + +Now it was time for handshaking and good-bys. I said farewell all +around, and wished good luck to that brave battery, so cunningly +hidden away in its pit. There was a great deal of cheery shouting and +waving of hands as we went off. And in two minutes the battery was +out of sight--even though we knew exactly where it was! + +We made our way slowly back, through the lengthening shadows, over +the shell-pitted ground. The motor cars were waiting, and Johnson, +too. Everything was shipshape and ready for a new start, and we +climbed in. + +As we drove off I looked back at Vimy Ridge. And I continued to gaze +at it for a long time. No longer did it disappoint me. No longer did +I regard it as an insignificant hillock. All that feeling that had +come to me with my first sight of it had been banished by my +introduction to the famous ridge itself. + +It had spoken to me eloquently, despite the muteness of the myriad +tongues it had. It had graven deep into my heart the realization of +its true place in history. + +An excrescence in a flat country--a little hump of ground! That is +all there is to Vimy Ridge. Aye! It does not stand so high above the +ground of Flanders as would the books that will be written about it +in the future, were you to pile them all up together when the last +one of them is printed! But what a monument it is to bravery and to +sacrifice--to all that is best in this human race of ours! + +No human hands have ever reared such a monument as that ridge is and +will be. There some of the greatest deeds in history were done--some +of the noblest acts that there is record of performed. There men +lived and died gloriously in their brief moment of climax--the moment +for which, all unknowing, all their lives before that day of battle +had been lived. + +I took off my cap as I looked back, with a gesture and a thought of +deep and solemn reverence. And so I said good-by to Vimy Ridge, and +to the brave men I had known there--living and dead. For I felt that +I had come to know some of the dead as well as the living. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"You'll see another phase of the front now, Harry," said Captain +Godfrey, as I turned my eyes to the front once more. + +"What's the next stop?" I asked. + +"We're heading for a rest billet behind the lines. There'll be lots +of men there who are just out of the trenches. It's a ghastly strain +for even the best and most seasoned troops--this work in the +trenches. So, after a battalion has been in for a certain length of +time, it's pulled out and sent back to a rest billet." + +"What do they do there?" I asked. + +"Well, they don't loaf--there's none of that in the British army, +these days! But it's paradise, after the trenches. For one thing +there isn't the constant danger there is up front. The men aren't +under steady fire. Of course, there's always the chance of a bomb +dropping raid by a Taube or a Fokker. The men get a chance to clean +up. They get baths, and their clothes are cleaned and disinfected. +They get rid of the cooties--you know what they are?" + +I could guess. The plague of vermin in the trenches is one of the +minor horrors of war. + +"They do a lot of drilling," Godfrey went on. "Except for those times +in the rest billets, regiments might get a bit slack. In the +trenches, you see, the routine is strict, but it's different. Men are +much more on their own. There aren't any inspections of kit and all +that sort of thing--not for neatness, anyway. + +"And it's a good thing for soldiers to be neat. It helps discipline. +And discipline, in time of war, isn't just a parade-ground matter. It +means lives--every time. Your disciplined man, who's trained to do +certain things automatically, is the man you can depend on in any +sort of emergency. + +"That's the thing that the Canadians and the Australians have had to +learn since they came out. There never were any braver troops than +those in the world, but at first they didn't have the automatic +discipline they needed. That'll be the first problem in training the +new American armies, too. It's a highly practical matter. And so, in +the rest billets, they drill the men a goodish bit. It keeps up the +morale, and makes them fitter and keener for the work when they go +back to the trenches." + +"You don't make it sound much like a real rest for them," I said. + +"Oh, but it is, all right! They have a comfortable place to sleep. +They get better food. The men in the trenches get the best food it's +possible to give them, but it can't be cooked much, for there aren't +facilities. The diet gets pretty monotonous. In the rest billets they +get more variety. And they have plenty of free time, and there are +hours when they can go to the estaminet--there's always one handy, a +sort of pub, you know--and buy things for themselves. Oh, they have a +pretty good time, as you'll see, in a rest billet." + +I had to take his word for it. We went bowling along at a good speed, +but pretty soon we encountered a detachment of Somerset men. They +halted when they spied our caravan, and so did we. As usual they +recognized us. + +"You'm Harry Lauder!" said one of them, in the broad accent of his +country. "Us has seen 'ee often!" + +Johnson was out already, and he and the drivers were unlimbering the +wee piano. It didn't take so long, now that we were getting used to +the task, to make ready for a roadside concert. While I waited I +talked to the men. They were on their way to Ypres. Tommy can't get +the name right, and long ago ceased trying to do so. The French and +Belgians call it "Eepre"--that's as near as I can give it to you in +print, at least. But Tommy, as all the world must know by now, calls +it Wipers, and that is another name that will live as long as British +history is told. + +The Somerset men squatted in the road while I sang my songs for them, +and gave me their most rapt attention. It was hugely gratifying and +flattering, the silence that always descended upon an audience of +soldiers when I sang. There were never any interruptions. But at the +end of a song, and during the chorus, which they always wanted to +sing with me, as I wanted them to do, too, they made up for their +silence. + +Soon the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour was on its way again. The +cheers of the Somerset men sounded gayly in our ears, and the cars +quickly picked up speed and began to mop up the miles at a great +rate. And then, suddenly--whoa! We were in the midst of soldiers +again. This time it was a bunch of motor repair men. + +They wandered along the roads, working on the trucks and cars that +were abandoned when they got into trouble, and left along the side of +the road. We had seen scores of such wrecks that day, and I had +wondered if they were left there indefinitely. Far from it, as I +learned now. Squads like this--there were two hundred men in this +particular party--were always at work. Many of the cars they salvaged +without difficulty--those that had been abandoned because of +comparatively minor engine troubles or defects. Others had to be +towed to a repair shop, or loaded upon other trucks for the journey, +if their wheels were out of commission. + +Others still were beyond repair. They had been utterly smashed in a +collision, maybe, or as a result of skidding. Or they had burned. +Sometimes they had been knocked off the road and generally +demoralized by a shell. And in such cases often, all that men such as +these we had met now could do was to retrieve some parts to be used +in repairing other cars in a less hopeless state. + +By this time Johnson and the two soldier chauffeurs had reduced the +business of setting our stage to a fine point. It took us but a very +few minutes indeed to be ready for a concert, and from the time when +we sighted a potential audience to the moment for the opening number +was an almost incredibly brief period. This time that was a good +thing, for it was growing late. And so, although the repair men were +loath to let me go, it was but an abbreviated programme that I was +able to offer them. This was one of the most enthusiastic audiences I +had had yet, for nearly every man there, it turned out, had been what +Americans would call a Harry Lauder fan in the old days. They had +been wont to go again and again to hear me. I wanted to stay and sing +more songs for them, but Captain Godfrey was in charge, and I had to +obey his orders, reluctant though I was to go on. + +Our destination was a town called Aubigny--rather an old chateau just +outside the town. Aubigny was the billet of the Fifteenth Division, +then in rest. Many officers were quartered in the chateau, as the +guests of its French owners, who remained in possession, having +refused to clear out, despite the nearness of the actual fighting +front. + +This was a Scots division, I was glad to find. I heard good Scots +talk all around me when I arrived, and it was Scottish hospitality, +mingled with French, that awaited us. I know no finer combination, +nor one more warming to the cockles of a man's heart. + +Here there was luxury, compared to what I had seen that day. As +Godfrey had warned me, the idea of resting that the troops had was a +bit more strenuous than mine would be. There was no lying and lolling +about. Hot though the weather was a deal of football was played, and +there were games of one sort and another going on nearly all the time +when the men were off duty. + +This division, I learned, had seen some of the hardest and bloodiest +fighting of the whole war. They had been through the great offensive +that had pivoted on Arras, and had been sorely knocked about. They +had well earned such rest as was coming to them now, and they were +getting ready, in the most cheerful way you can imagine, for their +next tour of duty in the trenches. They knew about how much time they +would have, and they made the best use they could of it. + +New drafts were coming out daily from home to fill up their sadly +depleted ranks. The new men were quickly drawn in and assimilated +into organizations that had been reduced to mere skeletons. New +officers were getting acquainted with their men; that wonderful thing +that is called esprit de corps was being made all around me. It is a +great sight to watch it in the making; it helps you to understand the +victories our laddies have won. + +I was glad to see the kilted men of the Scots regiments all about me. +It was them, after all, that I had come to see. I wanted to talk to +them, and see them here, in France. I had seen them at hame, flocking +to the recruiting offices. I had seen them in their training camps. +But this was different. I love all the soldiers of the Empire, but it +is natural, is it no, that my warmest feeling should be for the +laddies who wear the kilt. + +They were the most cheerful souls, as I saw them when we reached +their rest camp, that you could imagine. They were laughing and +joking all about us, and when they heard that the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour had arrived they crowded about us to see. They +wanted to make sure that I was there, and I was greeted in all sorts +of dialect that sounded enough, I'll be bound, to Godfrey and some of +the rest of our party. There were even men who spoke to me in the +Gaelic. + +I saw a good deal, afterward, of these Scots troops. My, how hard +they did work while they rested! And what chances they took of broken +bones and bruises in their play! Ye would think, would ye no, that +they had enough of that in the trenches, where they got lumps and +bruises and sorer hurts in the run of duty? But no. So soon as they +came back to their rest billets they must begin to play by knocking +the skin and the hair off one another at sports of various sorts, of +which football was among the mildest, that are not by any means to be +recommended to those of a delicate fiber. + +Some of the men I met at Aubigny had been out since Mons--some of the +old kilted regiments of the old regular army, they were. Away back in +those desperate days the Germans had dubbed them the ladies from +Hell, on account of their kilts. Some of the Germans really thought +they were women! That was learned from prisoners. Since Mons they +have been out, and auld Scotland has poured out men by the scores of +thousands, as fast as they were needed, to fill the gaps the German +shells and bullets have torn in the Scots ranks. Aye--since Mons, and +they will be there at the finish, when it comes, please God! + +There have always been Scots regiments in the British army, ever +since the day when King Jamie the Sixth, of Scotland, of the famous +and unhappy house of Stuart, became King James the First of England. +The kilted regiments, the Highlanders, belonging to the immortal +Highland Brigade, include the Gordon Highlanders, the Forty-second, +the world famous Black Watch, as it is better known than by its +numbered designation, the Seaforth Highlanders, and the Argyle and +Sutherland regiment, or the Princess Louise's Own. That was the +regiment to a territorial battalion of which my boy John belonged at +the outbreak of the war, and with which he served until he was killed. + +Some of those old, famous regiments have been wiped out half a dozen +times, almost literally annihilated, since Mons. New drafts, and the +addition of territorial battalions, have replenished them and kept up +their strength, and the continuity of their tradition has never been +broken. The men who compose a regiment may be wiped out, but the +regiment survives. It is an organization, an entity, a creature with +a soul as well as a body. And the Germans have no discovered a way +yet of killing the soul! They can do dreadful things to the bodies of +men and women, but their souls are safe from them. + +Of course there are Scots regiments that are not kilted and that have +naught to do with the Hielanders, who have given as fine and brave an +account of themselves as any. There are the Scots Guards, one of the +regiments of the Guards Brigade, the very pick and flower of the +British army. There are the King's Own Scottish Borderers, with as +fine a history and tradition as any regiment in the army, and a +record of service of which any regiment might well be proud; the +Scots Fusiliers, the Royal Scots, the Scottish Rifles, and the Scots +Greys, of Crimean fame--the only cavalry regiment from Scotland. + +Since this war began other Highland regiments have been raised beside +those originally included in the Highland Brigade. There are Scots +from Canada who wear the kilt and their own tartan and cap. Every +Highland regiment, of course, has its own distinguishing tartan and +cap. One of the proudest moments of my life came when I heard that +the ninth battalion of the Highland Light Infantry, which was raised +in Glasgow, but has its depot, where its recruits and new drafts are +trained, at Hamilton, was known as the Harry Landers. That was +because they had adopted the Balmoral cap, with dice, that had become +associated with me because I had worn it so often and so long on the +stage in singing one of my most famous and successful songs, "I Love +a Lassie." + +But in the trenches, of course, the Hieland troops all look alike. +They cling to their kilts--or, rather, their kilts cling to them--but +kilts and jackets are all of khaki. If they wore the bright plaids of +the tartans they would be much too conspicuous a mark for the +Germans, and so they have to forswear their much loved colors when +they are actually at grips with Fritz. + +I wear the kilt nearly always, myself, as I have said. Partly I do so +because it is my native costume, and I am proud of my Highland birth; +partly because I revel in the comfort of the costume. But it brings +me some amusing experiences. Very often I am asked a question that +is, I presume, fired at many a Hieland soldier, intimate though it is. + +"I say, Harry," someone will ask me, "you wear the kilt. Do you not +wear anything underneath it?" + +I do, myself. I wear a very short pair of trunks, chiefly for reasons +of modesty. So do some of the soldiers. But if they do they must +provide it for themselves; no such garment is served out to them with +their uniform. And so the vast majority of the men wear nothing but +their skins under the kilt. He is bare, that is, from the waist to +the hose--except for the kilt. But that is garment enough! I'll tell +ye so, and I'm thinkin' I know! + +So clad the Highland soldier is a great deal more comfortable and a +great deal more sanely dressed, I believe, than the city dweller who +is trousered and underweared within an inch of his life. I think it +is a matter of medical record, that can be verified from the reports +of the army surgeons, that the kilted troops are among the healthiest +in the whole army. I know that the Highland troops are much less +subject to abdominal troubles of all sorts--colic and the like. The +kilt lies snug and warm around the stomach, in several thick layers, +and a more perfect protection from the cold has never been devised +for that highly delicate and susceptible region of the human anatomy. + +Women, particularly, are always asking me another question. I have +seen them eyeing me, in cold weather, when I was walkin' around, +comfortably, in my kilt. And their eyes would wander to my knees, and +I would know before they opened their mouths what it was that they +were going to say. + +"Oh, Mr. Lauder," they would ask me. "Don't your poor knees get cold-- +with no coverings, exposed to this bitter cold?" + +Well, they never have! That's all I can tell you. They have had the +chance, in all sorts of bitter weather. I am not thinking only of the +comparitively mild winters of Britain--although, up north, in +Scotland, we get some pretty severe winter weather. But I have been +in Western Canada, and in the northwestern states of the United +States, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, where the thermometer drops +far below zero. And my knees have never been cold yet. They do not +suffer from the cold any more than does my face, which is as little +covered and protected as they--and for the same reason, I suppose. +They are used to the weather. + +And when it comes to the general question of health, I am certain, +from my own experience, that the kilt is best. Several times, for one +reason or another, I have laid my kilts aside and put on trousers. +And each time I have been seized by violent colds, and my life has +been made wretched. A good many soldiers of my acquaintance have had +the same experience. + +Practical reasons aside, however, the Scots soldier loves his kilt, +and would fight like a steer to keep from having it taken away from +him, should anyone be so foolish as to try such a performance. He +loves it, not only because it is warm and comfortable, but because it +is indistinguishably associated in his mind with some of the most +glorious pages of Scottish history. It is a sign and symbol of his +hameland to him. There have been times, in Scotland, when all was not +as peaceful in the country's relations with England as it now is, +when the loyal Scot who wore the kilt did so knowing that he might be +tried for his life for doing so, since death had been the penalty +appointed for that "crime." + +Aye, it is peace and friendship now between Scot and Englishman. But +that is not to say that there is no a friendly rivalry between them +still. English regiments and Scots regiments have a lot of fun with +one another, and a bit rough it gets, too, at times. But it is all in +fun, and there is no harm done. I have in mind a tale an officer told +me--though the men of whom he told it did not know that an officer +had any inkling of the story. + +The English soldiers are very fond of harping on the old idea of the +difficulty of making a Scotsman see a joke. That is a base slander, +I'll say, but no matter. There were two regiments in rest close to +one another, one English and one Scots. They met at the estaminet or +pub in the nearby town. And one day the Englishman put up a great +joke on some of the Scots, and did get a little proof of that pet +idea of theirs, for the Scots were slow to see the joke. + +Ah, weel, that was enough! For days the English rang the changes on +that joke, teasing the Hielanders and making sport of them. But at +last, when the worst of the tormentors were all assembled together, +two of the Scots came into the room where they were havin' a wee +drappie. + +"Mon, Sandy," said one of them, shaking his head, "I've been thinking +what a sad thing that would be! I hope it will no come to pass." + +"Aye, that would be a sore business, indeed, Tam," said Sandy, and +he, too, shook his head. + +And so they went on. The Englishmen stood it as long as they could +and then one turned to Sandy. + +"What is it would be such a bad business?" he asked. + +"Mon-mon," said Sandy. "We've been thinking, Tam and I, what would +become of England, should Scotland make a separate peace?" + +And it was generally conceded that the last laugh was with the Scots +in that affair! + +My boy, John, had the same love for the kilt that I had. He was proud +and glad to wear the kilt, and to lead men who did the same. While he +was in training at Bedford he organized a corps of cyclists for +dispatch-bearing work. He was a crack cyclist himself, and it was a +sport of which he was passionately fond. So he took a great interest +in the corps, and it soon gained wide fame for its efficiency. So +true was that that the authorities took note of the corps, and of +John, who was responsible for it, and he was asked to go to France to +take charge of organizing a similar corps behind the front. But that +would have involved a transfer to a different branch of the army, and +detachment from his regiment. And--it would have meant that he must +doff his kilt. Since he had the chance to decline--it was an offer, +not an order, that had come to him--he did, that he might keep his +kilt and stay with his own men. + +To my eyes there is no spectacle that begins to be so imposing as the +sight of a parade of Scottish troops in full uniform. And it is the +unanimous testimony of German prisoners that this war has brought +them no more terrifying sight than the charge of a kilted regiment. +The Highlanders come leaping forward, their bayonets gleaming, +shouting old battle cries that rang through the glens years and +centuries ago, and that have come down to the descendants of the +warriors of an ancient time. The Highlanders love to use cold steel; +the claymore was their old weapon, and the bayonet is its nearest +equivalent in modern war. They are master hands with that, too--and +the bayonet is the one thing the Hun has no stomach for at all. + +Fritz is brave enough when he is under such cover and shelter as the +trenches give. And he has shown a sort of stubborn courage when +attacking in massed formations--the Germans have made terrible +sacrifices, at times, in their offensive efforts. But his blood turns +to water in his veins when he sees the big braw laddies from the +Hielands come swooping toward him, their kilts flapping and their +bayonets shining in whatever light there is. Then he is mighty quick +to throw up his hands and shout: "Kamerad! Kamerad!" + +I might go on all night telling you some of the stories I heard along +the front about the Scottish soldiers. They illustrate and explain +every phase of his character. They exploit his humor, despite that +base slander to which I have already referred, his courage, his +stoicism. And, of course, a vast fund of stories has sprung up that +deals with the proverbial thrift of the Scot! There was one tale that +will bear repeating, perhaps. + +Two Highlanders had captured a chicken--a live chicken, not +particularly fat, it may be, even a bit scrawny, but still, a live +chicken. That was a prize, since the bird seemed to have no owner who +might get them into trouble with the military police. One was for +killing and eating the fowl at once. But the other would have none of +such a summary plan. + +"No, no, Jimmy," he said, pleadingly, holding the chicken +protectingly. "Let's keep her until morning, and may be we will ha' +an egg as well!" + +[ILLUSTRATION: "'Make us laugh again, Harry!' Though I remember my +son and want to join the ranks, I have obeyed." LAUDER ADDRESSING +BRITISH TROOPS BEHIND THE LINES IN FRANCE (See Lauder08.jpg)] + +The other British soldiers call the Scots Jock, invariably. The +Englishman, or a soldier from Wales or Ireland, as a rule, is called +Tommy--after the well-known M. Thomas Atkins. Sometimes, an Irishman +will be Paddy and a Welshman Taffy. But the Scot is always Jock. + +Jock gave us a grand welcome at Aubigny. We were all pretty tired, +but when they told me I could have an audience of seven thousand +Scots soldiers I forgot my weariness, and Hogge, Adam and I, to say +nothing of Johnson and the wee piano, cleared for action, as you +might say. The concert was given in the picturesque grounds of the +chateau, which had been less harshly treated by the war than many +such beautiful old places. It was a great experience to sing to so +many men; it was far and away the largest house we had had since we +had landed at Boulogne. + +After we left Aubigny, the chateau and that great audience, we drove +on as quickly as we could, since it was now late, to the headquarters +of General Mac----, commanding the Fifteenth Division--to which, of +course, the men whom we had just been entertaining belonged. I was to +meet the general upon my arrival. + +That was a strange ride. It was pitch dark, and we had some distance +to go. There were mighty few lights in evidence; you do not advertise +a road to Fritz's airplanes when you are traveling roads anywhere +near the front, for he has guns of long range, that can at times +manage to strafe a road that is supposed to be beyond the zone of +fire with a good deal of effect I have seldom seen a blacker night +than that. Objects along the side of the road were nothing but +shapeless lumps, and I did not see how our drivers could manage at +all to find their way. + +They seemed to have no difficulty, however, but got along swimmingly. +Indeed, they traveled faster than they had in daylight. Perhaps that +was because we were not meeting troops to hold us up along this road; +I believe that, if we had, we should have stopped and given them a +concert, even though Johnson could not have seen the keys of his piano! + +It was just as well, however. I was delighted at the reception that +had been given to the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour all through +our first day in France. But I was also extremely tired, and the +dinner and bed that loomed up ahead of us, at the end of our long +ride through the dark, took on an aspect of enchantment as we neared +them. My voice, used as I was to doing a great deal of singing, was +fagged, and Hogge and Dr. Adam were so hoarse that they could +scarcely speak at all. Even Johnson was pretty well done up; he was +still, theoretically, at least, on the sick list, of course. And I +ha' no doot that the wee piano felt it was entitled to its rest, too! + +So we were all mighty glad when the cars stopped at last. + +"Well, here we are!" said Captain Godfrey, who was the freshest of us +all. "This is Tramecourt--General Headquarters for the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour while you are in France, gentlemen. They have +special facilities for visitors here, and unless one of Fritz's +airplanes feels disposed to drop a bomb or two, you won't be under +fire, at night at least. Of course, in the daytime. . ." + +He shrugged his shoulders. For our plans did not involve a search for +safe places. Still, it was pleasant to know that we might sleep in +fair comfort. + +General Mac---- was waiting to welcome us, and told us that dinner +was ready and waiting, which we were all glad to hear. It had been a +long, hard day, although the most interesting one, by far, that I had +ever spent. + +We made short work of dinner, and soon afterward they took us to our +rooms. I don't know what Hogge and Dr. Adam did, but I know I looked +happily at the comfortable bed that was in my room. And I slept +easily and without being rocked to sleep that nicht! + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Though we were out of the zone of fire--except for stray activities +in which Boche airplanes might indulge themselves, as our hosts were +frequently likely to remind us, lest we fancy ourselves too secure, I +suppose--we were by no means out of hearing of the grim work that was +going on a few miles away. The big guns, of course, are placed well +behind the front line trenches, and we could hear their sullen, +constant quarreling with Fritz and his artillery. The rumble of the +Hun guns came to us, too. But that is a sound to which you soon get +used, out there in France. You pay no more heed to it than you do to +the noise the 'buses make in London or the trams in Glasgow. + +In the morning I got my first chance really to see Tramecourt. The +chateau is a lovely one, a fine example of such places. It had not +been knocked about at all, and it looked much as it must have done in +times of peace. Practically all the old furniture was still in the +rooms, and there were some fine old pictures on the walls that it +gave me great delight to see. Indeed, the rare old atmosphere of the +chateau was restful and delightful in a way that surprised me. + +I had been in the presence of real war for just one day. And yet I +took pleasure in seeing again the comforts and some of the luxuries +of peace! That gave me an idea of what this sort of place must mean +to men from the trenches. It must seem like a bit of heaven to them +to come back to Aubigny or Tramecourt! Think of the contrast. + +The chateau, which had been taken over by the British army, belonged +to the Comte de Chabot, or, rather, to his wife, who had been +Marquise de Tramecourt, one of the French families of the old regime. +Although the old nobility of France has ceased to have any legal +existence under the Republic the old titles are still used as a +matter of courtesy, and they have a real meaning and value. This was +a pleasant place, this chateau of Tramecourt; I should like to see it +again in days of peace, for then it must be even more delightful than +it was when I came to know it so well. + +Tramecourt was to be our home, the headquarters of the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour, during the rest of our stay at the front. We were +to start out each morning, in the cars, to cover the ground appointed +for that day, and to return at night. But it was understood that +there would be days when we would get too far away to return at night, +and other sleeping quarters would be provided on such occasions. + +I grew very fond of the place while I was there. The steady pounding +of the guns did not disturb my peace of nights, as a rule. But there +was one night when I did lie awake for hours, listening. Even to my +unpracticed ear there was a different quality in the sound of the +cannon that night. It had a fury, an intensity, that went beyond +anything I had heard. And later I learned that I had made no mistake +in thinking that there was something unusual and portentous about the +fire that night. What I had listened to was the preliminary drum fire +and bombardment that prepared the way for the great attack at +Messines, near Ypres--the most terrific bombardment recorded in all +history, up to that time. + +The fire that night was like a guttural chant. It had a real rhythm; +the beat of the guns could almost be counted. And at dawn there came +the terrific explosion of the great mine that had been prepared, +which was the signal for the charge. Mr. Lloyd-George, I am told, +knowing the exact moment at which the mine was to be exploded, was +awake, at home in England, and heard it, across the channel, and so +did many folk who did not have his exceptional sources of +information. I was one of them! And I wondered greatly until I was +told what had been done. That was one of the most brilliantly and +successfully executed attacks of the whole war, and vastly important +in its results, although it was, compared to the great battles on the +Somme and up north, near Arras, only a small and minor operation. + +We settled down, very quickly indeed, into a regular routine. Captain +Godfrey was, for all the world, like the manager of a traveling +company in America. He mapped out our routes, and he took care of all +the details. No troupe, covering a long route of one night stands in +the Western or Southern United States, ever worked harder than did +Hogge, Adam and I--to say nothing of Godfrey and our soldier +chauffeurs. We did not lie abed late in the mornings, but were up +soon after daylight. Breakfast out of the way, we would find the cars +waiting and be off. + +We had, always, a definite route mapped out for the day, but we never +adhered to it exactly. I was still particularly pleased with the idea +of giving a roadside concert whenever an audience appeared, and there +was no lack of willing listeners. Soon after we had set out from +Tramecourt, no matter in which direction we happened to be going, we +were sure to run into some body of soldiers. + +There was no longer any need of orders. As soon as the chauffeur of +the leading car spied a blotch of khaki against the road, on went his +brakes, and we would come sliding into the midst of the troops and +stop. Johnson would be out before his car had fairly stopped, and at +work upon the lashings of the little piano, with me to help him. And +Hogge would already be clearing his throat to begin his speech. + +The Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour, employed no press agent, and +it could not boast of a bill poster. No hoardings were covered with +great colored sheets advertising its coming. And yet the whole front +seemed to know that we were about. The soldiers we met along the +roads welcomed us gladly, but they were no longer, after the first +day or two, surprised to see us. They acted, rather, as if they had +been expecting us. Our advent was like that of a circus, coming to a +country town for a long heralded and advertised engagement. Yet all +the puffing that we got was by word of mouth. + +There were some wonderful choruses along those war-worn roads we +traveled. "Roamin' in the Gloamin'" was still my featured song, and +all the soldiers seemed to know the tune and the words, and to take a +particular delight in coming in with me as I swung into the chorus. +We never passed a detachment of soldiers without stopping to give +them a concert, no matter how it disarranged Captain Godfrey's plans. +But he was entirely willing. It was these men, on their way to the +trenches, or on the way out of them, bound for rest billets, whom, of +course, I was most anxious to reach, since I felt that they were the +ones I was most likely to be able to help and cheer up. + +The scheduled concerts were practically all at the various rest +billets we visited. These were, in the main, at chateaux. Always, at +such a place, I had a double audience. The soldiers would make a +great ring, as close to me as they could get, and around them, again, +in a sort of outer circle, were French villagers and peasants, vastly +puzzled and mystified, but eager to be pleased, and very ready with +their applause. + +It must have been hard for them to make up their minds about me, if +they gave me much thought. My kilt confused them; most of them +thought I was a soldier from some regiment they had not yet seen, +wearing a new and strange uniform. For my kilt, I need not say, was +not military, nor was the rest of my garb warlike! + +I gave, during that time, as many as seven concerts in a day. I have +sung as often as thirty-five times in one day, and on such occasions +I was thankful that I had a strong and durable voice, not easily worn +out, as well as a stout physique. Hogge and Dr. Adam appeared as +often as I did, but they didn't have to sing! + +Nearly all the songs I gave them were ditties they had known for a +long time. The one exception was the tune that had been so popular in +"Three Cheers"--the one called "The Laddies Who Fought and Won." Few +of the boys had been home since I had been singing that song, but it +has a catching lilt, and they were soon able to join in the chorus +and send it thundering along. They took to it, too--and well they +might! It was of such as they that it was written. + +We covered perhaps a hundred miles a day during this period. That +does not sound like a great distance for high-powered motor cars, but +we did a good deal of stopping, you see, here and there and +everywhere. We were roaming around in the backwater of war, you might +say. We were out of the main stream of carnage, but it was not out of +our minds and our hearts. Evidences of it in plenty came to us each +day. And each day we were a little nearer to the front line trenches +than we had come the day before. We were working gradually toward +that climax that I had been promised. + +I was always eager to talk to officers and men, and I found many +chances to do so. It seemed to me that I could never learn enough +about the soldiers. I listened avidly to every story that was told +to me, and was always asking for more. The younger officers, +especially, it interested me to talk with. One day I was talking +to such a lieutenant. + +"How is the spirit of your men?" I asked him. I am going to tell you +his answer, just as he made it. + +"Their spirit?" he said, musingly. "Well, just before we came to this +billet to rest we were in a tightish corner on the Somme. One of my +youngest men was hit--a shell came near to taking his arm clean off, +so that it was left just hanging to his shoulders. He was only about +eighteen years old, poor chap. It was a bad wound, but, as sometimes +happens, it didn't make him unconscious--then. And when he realized +what had happened to him, and saw his arm hanging limp, so that he +could know he was bound to lose it, he began to cry. + +"'What's the trouble?' I asked him, hurrying over to him. I was sorry +enough for him, but you've got to keep up the morale of your men. +'Soldiers don't cry when they're wounded, my lad.' + +"'I'm not crying because I'm wounded, sir!' he fired back at me. And +I won't say he was quite as respectful as a private is supposed to be +when he's talking to an officer! 'Just take a look at that, sir!' And +he pointed to his wound. And then he cried out: + +"'And I haven't killed a German yet!' he said, bitterly. 'Isn't that +hard lines, sir?' + +"That is the spirit of my men!" + +I made many good friends while I was roaming around the country just +behind the front. I wonder how many of them I shall keep--how many of +them death will spare to shake my hand again when peace is restored! +There was a Gordon Highlander, a fine young officer, of whom I became +particularly fond while I was at Tramecourt. I had a very long talk +with him, and I thought of him often, afterward, because he made me +think of John. He was just such a fine young type of Briton as my boy +had been. + +Months later, when I was back in Britain, and giving a performance at +Manchester, there was a knock at the door of my dressing-room. + +"Come in!" I called. + +The door was pushed open and a man came in with great blue glasses +covering his eyes. He had a stick, and he groped his way toward me. I +did not know him at all at first--and then, suddenly, with a shock, I +recognized him as my fine young Gordon Highlander of the rest billet +near Tramecourt. + +"My God--it's you, Mac!" I said, deeply shocked. + +"Yes," he said, quietly. His voice had changed, greatly. "Yes, it's +I, Harry." + +He was almost totally blind, and he did not know whether his eyes +would get better or worse. + +"Do you remember all the lads you met at the billet where you came to +sing for us the first time I met you, Harry?" he asked me. "Well, +they're all gone--I'm the only one who's left--the only one!" + +There was grief in his voice. But there was nothing like complaint, +nor was there, nor self-pity, either, when he told me about his eyes +and his doubts as to whether he would ever really see again. He +passed his own troubles off lightly, as if they did not matter at +all. He preferred to tell me about those of his friends whom I had +met, and to give me the story of how this one and that one had gone. +And he is like many another. I know a great many men who have been +maimed in the war, but I have still to hear one of them complain. +They were brave enough, God knows, in battle, but I think they are +far braver when they come home, shattered and smashed, and do naught +but smile at their troubles. + +The only sort of complaining you hear from British soldiers is over +minor discomforts in the field. Tommy and Jock will grouse when they +are so disposed. They will growl about the food and about this +trivial trouble and that. But it is never about a really serious +matter that you hear them talking! + +I have never yet met a man who had been permanently disabled who was +not grieving because he could not go back. And it is strange but true +that men on leave get homesick for the trenches sometimes. They miss +the companionships they have had in the trenches. I think it must be +because all the best men in the world are in France that they feel +so. But it is true, I know, because I have not heard it once, but a +dozen times. + +Men will dream of home and Blighty for weeks and months. They will +grouse because they cannot get leave--though, half the time, they +have not even asked for it, because they feel that their place is +where the fighting is! And then, when they do get that longed-for +leave, they are half sorry to go--and they come back like boys coming +home from school! + +A great reward awaits the men who fight through this war and emerge +alive and triumphant at its end. They will dictate the conduct of the +world for many a year. The men who stayed at home when they should +have gone may as well prepare to drop their voices to a very low +whisper in the affairs of mankind. For the men who will be heard, who +will make themselves heard, are out there in France. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +It was seven o'clock in the morning of a Godly and a beautiful day +when we set out from Tramecourt for Arras. Arras, that town so famous +now in British history and in the annals of this war, had been one of +our principal objectives from the outset, but we had not known when +we were to see it. Arras had been the pivot of the great northern +drive in the spring--the drive that Hindenburg had fondly supposed he +had spoiled by his "strategic" retreat in the region of the Somme, +begun just before the British and the French were ready to attack. + +What a bonnie morning that was, to be sure! The sun was out, after +some rainy days, and glad we all were to see it. The land was sprayed +with silver light; the air was as sweet and as soft and as warm as a +baby's breath. And the cars seemed to leap forward, as if they, too, +loved the day and the air. They ate up the road. They seemed to take +hold of its long, smooth surface--they are grand roads, over you, in +France--and reel it up in underneath their wheels as if it were a tape. + +This time we did little stopping, no matter how good the reason looked. +We went hurtling through villages and towns we had not seen before. +Our horn and our siren shrieked a warning as we shot through. And it +seemed wrong. They looked so peaceful and so quiet, did those French +towns, on that summer's morning! Peaceful, aye, and languorous, after +all the bustle and haste we had been seeing. The houses were set in +pretty encasements of bright foliage and they looked as though they had +been painted against the background of the landscape with water colors. + +It was hard to believe that war had passed that way. It had; there +were traces everywhere of its grim visitation. But here its heavy +hand had been laid lightly upon town and village. It was as if a wave +of poison gas of the sort the Germans brought into war had been +turned aside by a friendly breeze, arising in the very nick of time. +Little harm had been done along the road we traveled. But the thunder +of the guns was always in our ears; we could hear the steady, +throbbing rhythm of the cannon, muttering away to the north and east. + +It was very warm, and so, after a time, as we passed through a +village, someone--Hogge, I think--suggested that a bottle of ginger +beer all around would not be amiss. The idea seemed to be regarded as +an excellent one, so Godfrey spoke to the chauffeur beside him, and +we stopped. We had not known, at first, that there were troops in +town. But there were--Highlanders. And they came swarming out. I was +recognized at once. + +"Well, here's old Harry Lauder!" cried one braw laddie. + +"Come on, Harry--gie us a song!" they shouted. "Let's have 'Roamin' in +the Gloamin', Harry! Gie us the Bonnie Lassie! We ha' na' heard 'The +Laddies Who Fought and Won,' Harry. They tell us that's a braw song!" + +We were not really supposed to give any roadside concerts that day, +but how was I to resist them? So we pulled up into a tiny side +street, just off the market square, and I sang several songs for +them. We saved time by not unlimbering the wee piano, and I sang, +without accompaniment, standing up in the car. But they seemed to be +as well pleased as though I had had the orchestra of a big theater to +support me, and all the accompaniments and trappings of the stage. +They were very loath to let me go, and I don't know how much time we +really saved by not giving our full and regular programme. For, +before I had done, they had me telling stories, too. Captain Godfrey +was smiling, but he was glancing at his watch too, and he nudged me, +at last, and made me realize that it was time for us to go on, no +matter how interesting it might be to stay. + +"I'll be good," I promised, with a grin, as we drove on. "We shall go +straight on to Arras now!" + +But we did not. We met a bunch of engineers on the road, after a +space, and they looked so wistful when we told them we maun be +getting right along, without stopping to sing for them, that I had +not the heart to disappoint them. So we got out the wee piano and I +sang them a few songs. It seemed to mean so much to those boys along +the roads! I think they enjoyed the concerts even more than did the +great gatherings that were assembled for me at the rest camps. A +concert was more of a surprise for them, more of a treat. The other +laddies liked them, too--aye, they liked them fine. But they would +have been prepared, sometimes; they would have been looking forward +to the fun. And the laddies along the roads took them as a man takes +a grand bit of scenery, coming before his eyes, suddenly, as he turns +a bend in a road he does not ken. + +As for myself, I felt that I was becoming quite a proficient open-air +performer by now. My voice was standing the strain of singing under +such novel and difficult conditions much better than I had thought it +could. And I saw that I must be at heart and by nature a minstrel! I +know I got more pleasure from those concerts I gave as a minstrel +wandering in France than did the soldiers or any of those who heard me! + +I have been before the public for many years. Applause has always +been sweet to me. It is to any artist, and when one tells you it is +not you may set it down in your hearts that he or she is telling less +than the truth. It is the breath of life to us to know that folks are +pleased by what we do for them. Why else would we go on about our +tasks? I have had much applause. I have had many honors. I have told +you about that great and overwhelming reception that greeted me when +I sailed into Sydney Harbor. In Britain, in America, I have had +greetings that have brought tears into my eye and such a lump into +my throat that until it had gone down I could not sing or say a word +of thanks. + +But never has applause sounded so sweet to me as it did along those +dusty roads in France, with the poppies gleaming red and the +cornflowers blue through the yellow fields of grain beside the roads! +They cheered me, do you ken--those tired and dusty heroes of Britain +along the French roads! They cheered as they squatted down in a +circle about us, me in my kilt, and Johnson tinkling away as if his +very life depended upon it, at his wee piano! Ah, those wonderful, +wonderful soldiers! The tears come into my eyes, and my heart is sore +and heavy within me when I think that mine was the last voice many of +them ever heard lifted in song! They were on their way to the +trenches, so many of those laddies who stopped for a song along the +road. And when men are going into the trenches they know, and all who +see them passing know, that some there are who will never come out. + +Despite all the interruptions, though, it was not much after noon +when we reached Blangy. Here, in that suburb of Arras, were the +headquarters of the Ninth Division, and as I stepped out of the car I +thrilled to the knowledge that I was treading ground forever to be +famous as the starting-point of the Highland Brigade in the attack of +April 9, 1917. + +And now I saw Arras, and, for the first time, a town that had been +systematically and ruthlessly shelled. There are no words in any +tongue I know to give you a fitting picture of the devastation of +Arras. "Awful" is a puny word, a thin one, a feeble one. I pick +impotently at the cover-lid of my imagination when I try to frame +language to make you understand what it was I saw when I came to +Arras on that bright June day. + +I think the old city of Arras should never be rebuilt. I doubt if it +can be rebuilt, indeed. But I think that, whether or no, a golden +fence should be built around it, and it should forever and for all +time be preserved as a monument to the wanton wickedness of the Hun. +It should serve and stand, in its stark desolation, as a tribute, +dedicated to the Kultur of Germany. No painter could depict the +frightfulness of that city of the dead. No camera could make you see +as it is. Only your eyes can do that for you. And even then you +cannot realize it all at once. Your eyes are more merciful than the +truth and the Hun. + +The Germans shelled Arras long after there was any military reason +for doing so. The sheer, wanton love of destruction must have moved +them. They had destroyed its military usefulness, but still they +poured shot and shell into the town. I went through its streets--the +Germans had been pushed back so far by then that the city was no +longer under steady fire. But they had done their work! + +Nobody was living in Arras. No one could have lived there. The houses +had been smashed to pieces. The pavements were dust and rubble. But +there was life in the city. Through the ruins our men moved as +ceaselessly and as restlessly as the tenants of an ant hill suddenly +upturned by a plowshare. Soldiers were everywhere, and guns--guns, +guns! For Arras had a new importance now. It was a center for many +roads. Some of the most important supply roads of this sector of the +front converged in Arras. + +Trains of ammunition trucks, supply carts and wagons of all sorts, +great trucks laden with jam and meat and flour, all were passing +every moment. There was an incessant din of horses' feet and the +steady crunch--crunch of heavy boots as the soldiers marched through +the rubble and the brickdust. And I knew that all this had gone on +while the town was still under fire. Indeed, even now, an occasional +shell from some huge gun came crashing into the town, and there would +be a new cloud of dust arising to mark its landing, a new collapse of +some weakened wall. Warning signs were everywhere about, bidding all +who saw them to beware of the imminent collapse of some heap of masonry. + +I saw what the Germans had left of the stately old Cathedral, and of +the famous Cloth Hall--one of the very finest examples of the guild +halls of medieval times. Goths--Vandals--no, it is unfair to seek +such names for the Germans. They have established themselves as the +masters of all time in brutality and in destruction. There is no need +to call them anything but Germans. The Cloth Hall was almost human in +its pitiful appeal to the senses and the imagination. The German fire +had picked it to pieces, so that it stood in a stark outline, like +some carcase picked bare by a vulture. + +Our soldiers who were quartered nearby lived outside the town in +huts. They were the men of the Highland Brigade, and the ones I had +hoped and wished, above all others, to meet when I came to France. +They received our party with the greatest enthusiasm, and they were +especially flattering when they greeted me. One of the Highland +officers took me in hand immediately, to show me the battlefield. + +The ground over which we moved had literally been churned by +shell-fire. It was neither dirt nor mud that we walked upon; it was a +sort of powder. The very soil had been decomposed into a fine dust by +the terrific pounding it had received. The dust rose and got into our +eyes and mouths and nostrils. There was a lot of sneezing among the +members of the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour that day at Arras! +And the wire! It was strewn in every direction, with seeming +aimlessness. Heavily barbed it was, and bad stuff to get caught in. +One of the great reasons for the preliminary bombardment that usually +precedes an attack is to cut this wire. If charging men are caught in +a bad tangle of wire they can be wiped out by machine gun-fire before +they can get clear. + +I asked a Highlander, one day, how long he thought the war would last. + +"Forty years," he said, never batting an eyelid. "We'll be fighting +another year, and then it'll tak us thirty-nine years more to wind up +all the wire!" + +Off to my right there was a network of steel strands, and as I gazed +at it I saw a small dark object hanging from it and fluttering in the +breeze. I was curious enough to go over, and I picked my way +carefully through the maze-like network of wire to see what it might +be. When I came close I saw it was a bit of cloth, and immediately I +recognized the tartan of the Black Watch--the famous Forty-second. +Mud and blood held that bit of cloth fastened to the wire, as if by a +cement. Plainly, it had been torn from a kilt. + +I stood for a moment, looking down at that bit of tartan, flapping in +the soft summer breeze. And as I stood I could look out and over the +landscape, dotted with a very forest of little wooden crosses, that +marked the last resting-place of the men who had charged across this +maze of wire and died within it. They rose, did those rough crosses, +like sheathed swords out of the wild, luxurious jungle of grass that +had grown up in that blood-drenched soil. I wondered if the owner of +the bit of tartan were still safe or if he lay under one of the +crosses that I saw. + +There was room for sad speculation here! Who had he been? Had he +swept on, leaving that bit of his kilt as evidence of his passing? +Had he been one of those who had come through the attack, gloriously, +to victory, so that he could look back upon that day so long as he +lived? Or was he dead--perhaps within a hundred yards of where I +stood and gazed down at that relic of him? Had he folks at hame in +Scotland who had gone through days of anguish on his account--such +days of anguish as I had known? + + +[ILLUSTRATION: Berlin struck off this medal when the "Lusitania" was +sunk: on one side the brutal catastrophe, on the other the grinning +death's head Teutonically exultant. "And so now I preach the war on +the Hun my own way," says Harry Lauder. (See Lauder09.jpg)] + +[ILLUSTRATION: HARRY LAUDER "Laird of Dunoon." (See Lauder10.jpg)] + + +I asked a soldier for some wire clippers, and I cut the wire on +either side of that bit of tartan, and took it, just as it was. And +as I put the wee bit of a brave man's kilt away I kissed the +blood-stained tartan, for Auld Lang Syne, and thought of what a tale +it could tell if it could only speak! + + "Ha' ye seen a' the men frae the braes and the glen, + Ha' ye seen them a' marchin' awa'? + Ha' ye seen a' the men frae the wee but-an'-ben, + And the gallants frae mansion and ha'?" + +I have said before that I do not want to tell you of the tales of +atrocities that I heard in France. I heard plenty--ayes and terrible +they were! But I dinna wish to harrow the feelings of those who read +more than I need, and I will leave that task to those who saw for +themselves with their eyes, when I had but my ears to serve me. Yet +there was one blood-chilling story that my boy John told to me, and +that the finding of that bit of Black Watch tartan brings to my mind. +He told it to me as we sat before the fire in my wee hoose at Dunoon, +just a few nights before he went back to the front for the last time. +We were talking of the war--what else was there to talk aboot? + +It was seldom that John touched on the harsher things he knew about +the war. He preferred, as a rule, to tell me stories of the courage +and the devotion of his men, and of the light way that they turned +things when there was so much chance for grief and care. + +"One night, Dad," he said, "we had a battalion of the Black Watch on +our right, and they made a pretty big raid on the German trenches. It +developed into a sizable action for any other war, but one trifling +enough and unimportant in this one. The Germans had been readier than +the Black Watch had supposed, and had reinforcements ready, and sixty +of the Highlanders were captured. The Germans took them back into +their trenches, and stripped them to the skin. Not a stitch or a rag +of clothing did they leave them, and, though it was April, it was a +bitter night, with a wind to cut even a man warmly clad to the bone. + +"All night they kept them there, standing at attention, stark naked, +so that they were half-frozen when the gray, cold light of the dawn +began to show behind them in the east. And then the Germans laughed, +and told their prisoners to go. + +"'Go on--go back to your own trenches, as you are!' they said. + +"The laddies of the Black Watch could scarcely believe their ears. +There was about seventy-five yards between the two trench lines at +that point, and the No Man's Land was rough going--all shell-pitted +as it was. By that time, too, of course, German repair parties had +mended all the wire before their trenches. So they faced a rough +journey, all naked as they were. But they started. + +"They got through the wire, with the Germans laughing fit to kill +themselves at the sight of the streaks of blood showing on their +white skins as the wire got in its work. They laughed at them, Dad! +And then, when they were halfway across the No Man's Land they +understood, at last, why the Germans had let them go. For fire was +opened on them with machine guns. Everyone was mowed down--everyone +of those poor, naked, bleeding lads was killed--murdered by that +treacherous fire from behind! + +"We heard all the details of that dirty bit of treachery later. We +captured some German prisoners from that very trench. Fritz is a +decent enough sort, sometimes, and there were men there whose +stomachs were turned by that sight, so that they were glad to creep +over, later, and surrender. They told us, with tears in their eyes. +But we had known, before that. We had needed no witnesses except the +bodies of the boys. It had been too dark for the men in our trenches +to see what was going on--and a burst of machine gun-fire, along the +trenches, is nothing to get curious or excited about. But those naked +bodies, lying there in the No Man's Land, had told us a good deal. + +"Dad--that was an awful sight! I was in command of one of the burying +parties we had to send out." + +That was the tale I thought of when I found that bit of the Black +Watch tartan. And I remembered, too, that it was with the Black Watch +that John Poe, the famous American football player from Princeton, +met his death in a charge. He had been offered a commission, but he +preferred to stay with the boys in the ranks. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +We left our motor cars behind us in Arras, for to-day we were to go +to a front-line trench, and the climax of my whole trip, so far as I +could foresee, was at hand. Johnson and the wee piano had to stay +behind, too--we could not expect to carry even so tiny an instrument +as that into a front-line trench! Once more we had to don steel +helmets, but there was a great difference between these and the ones +we had had at Vimy Ridge. Mine fitted badly, and kept sliding down +over my ears, or else slipping way down to the back of my head. It +must have given me a grotesque look, and it was most uncomfortable. +So I decided I would take it off and carry it for a while. + +"You'd better keep it on, Harry," Captain Godfrey advised me. "This +district is none too safe, even right here, and it gets worse as we go +along. A whistling Percy may come along looking for you any minute." + +That is the name of a shell that is good enough to advertise its +coming by a whistling, shrieking sound. I could hear Percies +whistling all around, and see them spattering up the ground as they +struck, not so far away, but they did not seem to be coming in our +direction. So I decided I would take a chance. + +"Well," I said, as I took the steel hat off, "I'll just keep this +bonnet handy and slip it on if I see Percy coming." + +But later I was mighty glad of even an ill-fitting steel helmet! + +Several staff officers from the Highland Brigade had joined the +Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour by now. Affable, pleasant gentlemen +they were, and very eager to show us all there was to be seen. And +they had more sights to show their visitors than most hosts have! + +We were on ground now that had been held by the Germans before the +British had surged forward all along this line in the April battle. +Their old trenches, abandoned now, ran like deep fissures through the +soil. They had been pretty well blasted to pieces by the British +bombardment, but a good many of their deep, concrete dugouts had +survived. These were not being used by the British here, but were +saved in good repair as show places, and the officers who were our +guides took us down into some of them. + +Rarely comfortable they must have been, too! They had been the homes +of German officers, and the Hun officers did themselves very well +indeed when they had the chance. They had electric light in their +cave houses. To be sure they had used German wall paper, and +atrociously ugly stuff it was, too. But it pleased their taste, no +doubt. Mightily amazed some of Fritz's officers must have been, back +in April, as they sat and took their ease in these luxurious +quarters, to have Jock come tumbling in upon them, a grenade in each +hand! + +Our men might have used these dugouts, and been snug enough in them, +but they preferred air and ventilation, and lived in little huts +above the ground. I left our party and went around among them and, to +my great satisfaction, found, as I had been pretty sure I would, a +number of old acquaintances and old admirers who came crowding around +me to shake hands. I made a great collection of souvenirs here, for +they insisted on pressing trophies upon me. + +"Tak them, Harry," said one after another. "We can get plenty more +where they came from!" + +One laddie gave me a helmet with a bullet hole through the skip, and +another presented me with one of the most interesting souvenirs of +all I carried home from France. That was a German sniper's outfit. It +consisted of a suit of overalls, waterproofed. If a man had it on he +would be completely covered, from head to foot, with just a pair of +slits for his eyes to peep out of, and another for his mouth, so that +he could breathe. It was cleverly painted the color of a tree--part +of it like the bark, part green, like leaves sprouting from it. + +"Eh, Jock," I asked the laddie who gave it to me. "A thing like yon's +hard to be getting, I'm thinking?" + +"Oh, not so very hard," he answered, carelessly. "You've got to be a +good shot." And he wore medals that showed he was! "All you've got to +do, Harry, is to kill the chap inside it before he kills you! The +fellow who used to own that outfit you've got hid himself in the fork +of a tree, and, as you may guess, he looked like a branch of the tree +itself. He was pretty hard to spot. But I got suspicious of him, from +the way bullets were coming over steadily, and I decided that that +tree hid a sniper. + +"After that it was just a question of being patient. It was no so +long before I was sure, and then I waited--until I saw that branch +move as no branch of a tree ever did move. I fired then--and got him! +He was away outside of his lines, and that nicht I slipped out and +brought back this outfit. I wanted to see how it was made." + +An old, grizzled sergeant of the Black Watch gave me a German revolver. + +"How came you to get this?" I asked him. + +"It was an acceedent, Harry," he said. "We were raiding a trench, do +you ken, and I was in a sap when a German officer came along, and we +bumped into one another. He looked at me, and I at him. I think he +was goin' to say something, but I dinna ken what it was he had on his +mind. That _was_ his revolver you've got in your hand now." + +And then he thrust his hand into his pocket. + +"Here's the watch he used to carry, too," he said. It was a thick, +fat-bellied affair, of solid gold. "It's a bit too big, but it's a +rare good timekeeper." + +Soon after that an officer gave me another trophy that is, perhaps, +even more interesting than the sniper's suit. It is rarer, at least. +It is a small, sweet-toned bell that used to hang in a wee church in +the small village of Athies, on the Scarpe, about a mile and a half +from Arras. The Germans wiped out church and village, but in some odd +way they found the bell and saved it. They hung it in their trenches, +and it was used to sound a gas alarm. On both sides a signal is given +when the sentry sees that there is to be a gas attack, in order that +the men may have time to don the clumsy gas masks that are the only +protection against the deadly fumes. The wee bell is eight inches +high, maybe, and I have never heard a lovelier tone. + +"That bell has rung men to worship, and it has rung them to death," +said the officer who gave it to me. + +Presently I was called back to my party, after I had spent some time +with the lads in their huts. A general had joined the party now, and +he told me, with a smile, that I was to go up to the trenches, if I +cared to do so. I will not say I was not a bit nervous, but I was +glad to go, for a' that! It was the thing that had brought me to +France, after a'. + +So we started, and by now I was glad to wear my steel hat, fit or no +fit. I was to give an entertainment in the trenches, and so we set +out. Pretty soon I was climbing a steep railroad embankment, and when +we slid down on the other side we found the trenches--wide, deep gaps +in the earth, and all alive with men. We got into the trenches +themselves by means of ladders, and the soldiers came swarming about +me with yells of "Hello, Harry! Welcome, Harry!" + +They were told that I had come to sing for them, and so, with no +further preliminaries, I began my concert. I started with my favorite +opening song, as usual--"Roamin' in the Gloamin'," and then went on +with the other old favorites. I told a lot of stories, too, and then +I came to "The Laddies Who Fought and Won." None of the men had heard +it, but there were officers there who had seen "Three Cheers" during +the winter when they had had a short leave to run over to London. + +I got through the first verse all right, and was just swinging into +the first chorus when, without the least warning, hell popped open in +that trench. A missile came in that some officer at once hailed as a +whizz bang. It is called that, for that is just exactly the sound it +makes. It is like a giant firecracker, and it would be amusing if one +did not know it was deadly. These missiles are not fired by the big +guns behind the lines, but by the small trench cannon--worked, as a +rule, by compressed air. The range is very short, but they are +capable of great execution at that range. + +Was I frightened? I must have been! I know I felt a good deal as I +have done when I have been seasick. And I began to think at once of +all sorts of places where I would rather have been than in that +trench! I was standing on a slight elevation at the back, or parados, +of the trench, so that I was raised a bit above my audience, and I +had a fine view of that deadly thing, wandering about, spitting fire +and metal parts. It traveled so that the men could dodge it, but it +was throwing oft slugs that you could neither see nor dodge, and it +was a poor place to be! + +And the one whizz bang was not enough to suit Fritz. It was followed +immediately by a lot more, that came popping in and making themselves +as unpleasant as you could imagine. I watched the men about me, and +they seemed to be unconcerned, and to be thinking much more of me and +my singing than of the whizz bangs. So, no matter how I felt, there +was nothing for me to do but to keep on with my song. I decided that +I must really be safe enough, no matter how I felt. But I had certain +misgivings on the subject. Still, I managed to go on with my song, +and I think I was calm enough to look at--though, if I was, my +appearance wholly belied my true inward feelings. + +I struggled through to the end of the chorus--and I think I sang +pretty badly, although I don't know. But I was pretty sure the end of +the world had come for me, and that these laddies were taking things +as calmly as they were simply because they were used to it, and it +was all in the day's work for them. The Germans were fairly sluicing +that trench by now. The whizz bangs were popping over us like giant +fire-crackers, going off one and two and three at a time. And the +trench was full of flying slugs and chunks of dirt, striking against +our faces and hurtling all about us. + +There I was. I had a good "house." I wanted to please my audience. +Was it no a trying situation? I thought Fritz might have had manners +enough to wait until I had finished my concert, at least! But the Hun +has no manners, as all the world knows. + +Along that embankment we had climbed to reach the trenches, and not +very far from the bit of trench in which I was singing, there was a +railroad bridge of some strategic importance. And now a shell hit +that bridge--not a whizz bang, but a real, big shell. It exploded +with a hideous screech, as if the bridge were some human thing being +struck, and screaming out its agony. The soldiers looked at me, and I +saw some of them winking. They seemed to be mighty interested in the +way I was taking all this. I looked back at them, and then at a +Highland colonel who was listening to my singing as quietly and as +carefully as if he had been at a stall in Covent Garden during the +opera season. He caught my glance. + +"I think they're coming it a bit thick, Lauder, old chap," he +remarked, quietly. + +"I quite agree with you, colonel," I said. I tried to ape his voice +and manner, but I wasn't so quiet as he. + +Now there came a ripping, tearing sound in the air, and a veritable +cloudburst of the damnable whizz bangs broke over us. That settled +matters. There were no orders, but everyone turned, just as if it +were a meeting, and a motion to adjourn had been put and carried +unanimously. We all ran for the safety holes or dugouts in the side +of the embankment. And I can tell ye that the Reverend Harry Lauder, +M.P., Tour were no the last ones to reach those shelters! No, we were +by no means the last! + +I ha' no doot that I might have improved upon the shelter that I +found, had I had time to pick and choose. But any shelter was good +just then, and I was glad of mine, and of a chance to catch my +breath. Afterward, I saw a picture by Captain Bairnsfather that made +me laugh a good deal, because it represented so exactly the way I +felt. He had made a drawing of two Tommies in a wee bit of a hole in +a field that was being swept by shells and missiles of every sort. +One was grousing to his mate, and the other said to him: + +"If you know a better 'ole go 'ide in it!" + +I said we all turned and ran for cover. But there was one braw laddie +who did nothing of the sort. He would not run--such tricks were not +for him! + +He was a big Hie'land laddie, and he wore naught but his kilt and his +semmet--his undershirt. He had on his steel helmet, and it shaded a +face that had not been shaved or washed for days. His great, brawny +arms were folded across his chest, and he was smoking his pipe. And +he stood there as quiet and unconcerned as if he had been a village +smith gazing down a quiet country road. I watched him, and he saw me, +and grinned at me. And now and then he glanced at me, quizzically. + +"It's all right, Harry," he said, several times. "Dinna fash +yoursel', man. I'll tell ye in time for ye to duck if I see one +coming your way!" + +We crouched in our holes until there came a brief lull in the +bombardment. Probably the Germans thought they had killed us all and +cleared the trench, or maybe it had been only that they hadn't liked +my singing, and had been satisfied when they had stopped it. So we +came out, but the firing was not over at all, as we found out at +once. So we went down a bit deeper, into concrete dugouts. + +This trench had been a part of the intricate German defensive system +far back of their old front line, and they had had the pains of +building and hollowing out the fine dugout into which I now went for +shelter. Here they had lived, deep under the earth, like animals--and +with animals, too. For when I reached the bottom a dog came to meet +me, sticking out his red tongue to lick my hand, and wagging his tail +as friendly as you please. + +He was a German dog--one of the prisoners of war taken in the great +attack. His old masters hadn't bothered to call him and take him with +them when the Highlanders came along, and so he had stayed behind as +part of the spoils of the attack. + +That wasn't much of a dog, as dogs go. He was a mongrel-looking +creature, but he couldn't have been friendlier. The Highlanders had +adopted him and called him Fritz, and they were very fond of him, and +he of them. He had no thought of war. He behaved just as dogs do at hame. + +But above us the horrid din was still going on, and bits of shells +were flying everywhere--anyone of them enough to kill you, if it +struck you in the right spot. I was glad, I can tell ye, that I was +so snug and safe beneath the ground, and I had no mind at all to go +out until the bombardment was well over. I knew now what it was +really to be under fire. The casual sort of shelling I had had to +fear at Vimy Ridge was nothing to this. This was the real thing. + +And then I thought that what I was experiencing for a few minutes was +the daily portion of these laddies who were all aboot me--not for a +few minutes, but for days and weeks and months at a time. And it came +home to me again, and stronger than ever, what they were doing for us +folks at hame, and how we ought to be feeling for them. + +The heavy firing went on for three-quarters of an hour, at least. We +could hear the chugging of the big guns, and the sorrowful swishing +of the shells, as if they were mournful because they were not +wreaking more destruction than they were. It all moved me greatly, +but I could see that the soldiers thought nothing of it, and were +quite unperturbed by the fearful demonstration that was going on +above. They smoked and chatted, and my own nerves grew calmer. + +Finally there seemed to come a real lull in the row above, and I +turned to the general. + +"Isn't it near time for me to be finishing my concert, sir?" I asked +him. + +"Very good," he said, jumping up. "Just as you say, Lauder." + +So back we went to where I had begun to sing. My audience +reassembled, and I struck up "The Laddies Who Fought and Won" again. +It seemed, somehow, the most appropriate song I could have picked to +sing in that spot! I finished, this time, but there was some discord +in the closing bars, for the Germans were still at their shelling, +sporadically. + +So I finished, and I said good-by to the men who were to stay in the +trench, guarding that bit of Britain's far flung battleline. And then +the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour was ready to go back--not to +safety, at once, but to a region far less infested by the Hun than +this one where we had been such warmly received visitors! + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +I was sorry to be leaving the Highland laddies in that trench. Aye! +But for the trench itself I had nae regrets--nae, none whatever! I +know no spot on the surface of this earth, of all that I have +visited, and I have been in many climes, that struck me as less +salubrious than you bit o' trench. There were too many other visitors +there that day, along with the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour. +They were braw laddies, yo, but no what you might call +over-particular about the company they kept! I'd thank them, if they'd +be havin' me to veesit them again, to let me come by my ain! + +Getting away was not the safest business in the world, either, +although it was better than staying in yon trench. We had to make our +way back to the railway embankment, and along it for a space, and the +embankment was being heavily shelled. It was really a trench line +itself, full of dugouts, and as we made our way along heads popped in +all directions, topped by steel helmets. I was eager to be on the +other side of you embankment, although I knew well enough that there +was no sanctuary on either side of it, nor for a long space behind it. + +That was what they called the Frenchy railway cutting, and it +overlooked the ruined village of Athies. And not until after I had +crossed it was I breathing properly. I began, then, to feel more like +myself, and my heart and all my functions began to be more normal. + +All this region we had to cross now was still under fire, but the +fire was nothing to what it had been. The evidences of the terrific +bombardments there had been were plainly to be seen. Every scrap of +exposed ground had been nicked by shells; the holes were as close +together as those in a honeycomb. I could not see how any living +thing had come through that hell of fire, but many men had. Now the +embankment fairly buzzed with activity. The dugouts were everywhere, +and the way the helmeted heads popped out as we passed, inquiringly, +made me think of the prairie dog towns I had seen in Canada and the +western United States. + +The river Scarpe flowed close by. It was a narrow, sluggish stream, +and it did not look to me worthy of its famous name. But often, that +spring, its slow-moving waters had been flecked by a bloody froth, +and the bodies of brave men had been hidden by them, and washed clean +of the trench mud. Now, uninviting as its aspect was, and sinister as +were the memories it must have evoked in other hearts beside my own, +it was water. And on so hot a day water was a precious thing to men +who had been working as the laddies hereabout had worked and labored. + +So either bank was dotted with naked bodies, and the stream itself +showed head after head, and flashing white arms as men went swimming. +Some were scrubbing themselves, taking a Briton's keen delight in a +bath, no matter what the circumstances in which he gets it; others +were washing their clothes, slapping and pounding the soaked garments +in a way to have wrung the hearts of their wives, had they seen them +at it. The British soldier, in the field, does many things for +himself that folks at hame never think of! But many of the men were +just lying on the bank, sprawled out and sunning themselves like +alligators, basking in the warm sunshine and soaking up rest and +good cheer. + +It looked like a good place for a concert, and so I quickly gathered +an audience of about a thousand men from the dugouts in the +embankment and obeyed their injunctions to "Go it, Harry! Gie us a +song, do now!" + +As I finished my first song my audience applauded me and cheered me +most heartily, and the laddies along the banks of the Scarpe heard +them, and came running up to see what was afoot. There were no ladies +thereabout, and they did not stand on a small matter like getting +dressed! Not they! They came running just as they were, and Adam, +garbed in his fig leaf, was fully clad compared to most of them. It +was the barest gallery I ever saw, and the noisiest, too, and the +most truly appreciative. + +High up above us airplanes were circling, so high that we could not +tell from which side they came, except when we saw some of them being +shelled, and so knew that they belonged to Fritz. They looked like +black pinheads against the blue cushion of the sky, and no doubt that +they were vastly puzzled as to the reason of this gathering of naked +men. What new tricks were the damned English up to now? So I have no +doubt, they were wondering! It was the business of their observers, +of course, to spot just such gatherings as ours, although I did not +think of that just then--except to think that they might drop a bomb +or two, maybe. + +But scouting airplanes, such as those were, do not go in for bomb +dropping. There are three sorts of airplanes. First come the scouting +planes--fairly fast, good climbers, able to stay in the air a long +time. Their business is just to spy out the lay of the land over the +enemy's trenches--not to fight or drop bombs. Then come the swift, +powerful bombing planes, which make raids, flying long distances to +do so. The Huns use such planes to bomb unprotected towns and kill +women and babies; ours go in for bombing ammunition dumps and trains +and railway stations and other places of military importance, +although, by now, they may be indulging in reprisals for some of +Fritz's murderous raids, as so many folk at hame in Britain have +prayed they would. + +Both scouting and bombing planes are protected by the fastest flyers +of all--the battle planes, as they are called. These fight other +planes in the air, and it is the men who steer them and fight their +guns who perform the heroic exploits that you may read of every day. +But much of the great work in the air is done by the scouting planes, +which take desperate chances, and find it hard to fight back when +they are attacked. And it was scouts who were above us now--and, +doubtless, sending word back by wireless of a new and mysterious +concentration of British forces along the Scarpe, which it might be a +good thing for the Hun artillery to strafe a bit! + +So, before very long, a rude interruption came to my songs, in the +way of shells dropped unpleasantly close. The men so far above us had +given their guns the range, and so, although the gunners could not +see us, they could make their presence felt. + +I have never been booed or hissed by an audience, since I have been +on the stage. I understand that it is a terrible and a disconcerting +experience, and one calculated to play havoc with the stoutest of +nerves. It is an experience I am by no means anxious to have, I can +tell you! But I doubt if it could seem worse to me than the +interruption of a shell. The Germans, that day, showed no ear for +music, and no appreciation of art--my art, at least! + +And so it seemed well to me to cut my programme, to a certain extent, +at least, and bid farewell to my audience, dressed and undressed. It +was a performance at which it did not seem to me a good idea to take +any curtain calls. I did not miss them, nor feel slighted because +they were absent. I was too glad to get away with a whole skin! + +The shelling became very furious now. Plainly the Germans meant to +take no chances. They couldn't guess what the gathering their +airplanes had observed might portend, but, if they could, they meant +to defeat its object, whatever that might be. Well, they did not +succeed, but they probably had the satisfaction of thinking that they +had, and I, for one, do not begrudge them that. They forced the +Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour to make a pretty wide detour, away +from the river, to get back to the main road. But they fired a power +of shells to do so! + +When we finally reached the road I heard a mad sputtering behind. I +looked around in alarm, because it sounded, for all the world, like +one of those infernal whizz bangs, chasing me. But it was not. The +noise came from a motor cycle, and its rider dashed up to me and +dropped one foot to the ground. + +"Here's a letter for you, Harry," he said. + +It was a package that he handed me. I was surprised--I was not +expecting to have a post delivered to me on the battlefield of Arras! +It turned out that the package contained a couple of ugly-looking +bits of shell, and a letter from my friends the Highlanders on the +other side of the railway embankment. They wrote to thank me for +singing for them, and said they hoped I was none the worse for the +bombardment I had undergone. + +"These bits of metal are from the shell that was closest to you when +it burst," their spokesman wrote. "They nearly got you, and we +thought you'd like to have them to keep for souvenirs." + +It seemed to me that that was a singularly calm and phlegmatic +letter! My nerves were a good deal overwrought, as I can see now. + +Now we made our way slowly back to division headquarters, and there I +found that preparations had been made for very much the most +ambitious and pretentious concert that I had yet had a chance to give +in France. There was a very large audience, and a stage or platform +had been set up, with plenty of room on it for Johnson and his piano. +It had been built in a great field, and all around me, when I mounted +it, I could see kilted soldiers--almost as far as my eye could reach. +There were many thousands of them there--indeed, all of the Highland +Brigade that was not actually on duty at the moment was present, and +a good many other men beside, for good measure. + +Here was a sight to make a Scots heart leap with pride! Here, before +me, was the flower of Scottish manhood. These regiments had been +through a series of battles, not so long since, that had sadly +thinned their ranks. Many a Scottish grave had been filled that +spring; many a Scottish heart at hame had been broken by sad news +from this spot. But there they were now, before me--their ranks +filled up again, splendid as they stretched out, eager to welcome me +and cheer me. There were tears in my eyes as I looked around at them. + +Massed before me were all the best men Scotland had had to offer! All +these men had breathed deep of the hellish air of war. All had +marched shoulder to shoulder and skirt to skirt with death. All were +of my country and my people. My heart was big within me with pride of +them, and that I was of their race, as I stood up to sing for them. + +Johnson was waiting for me to be ready. Little "Tinkle Tom," as we +called the wee piano, was not very large, but there were times when +he had to be left behind. I think he was glad to have us back again, +and to be doing his part, instead of leaving me to sing alone, +without his stout help. + +Many distinguished officers were in that great assemblage. They all +turned out to hear me, as well as the men, and among them I saw many +familiar faces and old friends from hame. But there were many faces, +too, alas, that I did not see. And when I inquired for them later I +learned that many of them I had seen for the last time. Oh, the sad +news I learned, day after day, oot there in France! Friend after +friend of whom I made inquiry was known, to be sure. They could tell +me where, and when, and how, they had been killed. + +Up above us, as I began to sing, our airplanes were circling. No +Boche planes were in sight now, I had been told, but there were many +of ours. And sometimes one came swooping down, its occupants curious, +no doubt, as to what might be going on, and the hum of its huge +propeller would make me falter a bit in my song. And once or twice +one flew so low and so close that I was almost afraid it would strike +me, and I would dodge in what I think was mock alarm, much to the +amusement of the soldiers. + +I had given them two songs when a big man arose, far back in the +crowd. He was a long way from me, but his great voice carried to me +easily, so that I could hear every word he said. + +"Harry," he shouted, "sing us 'The Wee Hoose Amang the Heather' and +we'll a' join in the chorus!" + +For a moment I could only stare out at them. Between that sea of +faces, upraised to mine, and my eyes, there came another face--the +smiling, bonnie face of my boy John, that I should never see again +with mortal eyes. That had been one of his favorite songs for many +years. I hesitated. It was as if a gentle hand had plucked at my very +heart strings, and played upon them. Memory--memories of my boy, +swept over me in a flood. I felt a choking in my throat, and the +tears welled into my eyes. + +But then I began to sing, making a signal to Johnson to let me sing +alone. And when I came to the chorus, true to the big Highlander's +promise, they all did join in the chorus! And what a chorus that was! +Thousands of men were singing. + + "There's a wee hoose amang the heather, + There's a wee hoose o'er the sea. + There's a lassie in that wee hoose + Waiting patiently for me. + She's the picture of perfection-- + I would na tell a lee + If ye saw her ye would love her + Just the same as me!" + +My voice was very shaky when I came to the end of that chorus, but +the great wave of sound from the kilted laddies rolled out, true and +full, unshaken, unbroken. They carried the air as steadily as a ship +is carried upon a rolling sea. + +I could sing no more for them, and then, as I made my way, unsteadily +enough, from the platform, music struck up that was the sweetest I +could have heard. Some pipers had come together, from twa or three +regiments, unknown to me, and now, very softly, their pipes began to +skirl. They played the tune that I love best, "The Drunken Piper." I +could scarcely see to pick my way, for the tears that blinded me, but +in my ears, as I passed away from them, there came, gently wailing on +the pipes, the plaintive plea-- + + "Will ye no come back again?" + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Now it was time to take to the motor cars again, and I was glad of +the thought that we would have a bracing ride. I needed something of +the sort, I thought. My emotions had been deeply stirred, in many +ways, that day. I felt tired and quite exhausted. This was by all +odds the most strenuous day the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour had +put in yet in France. So I welcomed the idea of sitting back +comfortably in the car and feeling the cool wind against my cheeks. + +First, however, the entertainers were to be entertained. They took +us, the officers of the divisional staff, to a hut, where we were +offered our choice of tea or a wee hauf yin. There was good Scots +whisky there, but it was the tea I wanted. It was very hot in the +sun, and I had done a deal of clambering about. So I was glad, after +all, to stay in the shade a while and rest my limbs. + +Getting out through Arras turned out to be a ticklish business. The +Germans were verra wasteful o' their shells that day, considering how +much siller they cost! They were pounding away, and more shells, by a +good many, were falling in Arras than had been the case when we +arrived at noon. So I got a chance to see how the ruin that had been +wrought had been accomplished. + +Arras is a wonderful sight, noble and impressive even in its +destruction. But it was a sight that depressed me. It had angered me, +at first, but now I began to think, at each ruined house that I saw: +"Suppose this were at hame in Scotland!" And when such thoughts came +to me I thanked God for the brave lads I had seen that day who stood, +out here, holding the line, and so formed a bulwark between Scotland +and such black ruin as this. + +We were to start for Tramecourt now, but on the way we were to make a +couple of stops. Our way was to take us through St. Pol and Hesdin, +and, going so, we came to the town of Le Quesnoy. Here some of the +11th Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders were stationed. My heart +leaped at the sight of them. That had been my boy's regiment, +although he had belonged to a different battalion, and it was with +the best will in the world that I called a halt and gave them a +concert. + +I gave two more concerts, both brief ones, on the rest of the +journey, and so it was quite dark when we approached the chateau at +Tramecourt. As we came up I became aware of a great stir and movement +that was quite out of the ordinary routine there. In the grounds I +could see tiny lights moving about, like fireflies--lights that came, +I thought, from electric torches. + +"Something extraordinary must be going on here," I remarked to Captain +Godfrey. "I wonder if General Haig has arrived, by any chance?" + +"We'll soon know what it's all about," he said, philosophically. But +I expect he knew already. + +Before the chateau there was a brilliant spot of light, standing out +vividly against the surrounding darkness. I could not account for +that brilliantly lighted spot then. But we came into it as the car +stopped; it was a sort of oasis of light in an inky desert of +surrounding gloom. And as we came full into it and I stood up to +descend from the car, stretching my tired, stiff legs, the silence +and the darkness were split by three tremendous cheers. + +It wasn't General Haig who was arriving! It was Harry Lauder! + +"What's the matter here?" I called, as loudly as I could. + +"Been waitin' for ye a couple of 'ours, 'Arry," called a loud cockney +voice in answer. "Go it now! Get it off your chest!" Then came +explanations. It seemed that a lot of soldiers, about four hundred +strong, who were working on a big road job about ten miles from +Tramecourt, had heard of my being there, and had decided to come over +in a body and beg for a concert. They got to the chateau early, and +were told it might be eleven o'clock before I got back. But they didn't +care--they said they'd wait all night, if they had to, to get a chance +to hear me. And they made some use of the time they had to wait. + +They took three big acetylene headlights from motor cars, and +connected them up. There was a little porch at the entrance of the +chateau, with a short flight of steps leading up to it, and then we +decided that that would make an excellent makeshift theater. Since it +would be dark they decided they must have lights, so that they could +see me--just as in a regular theater at hame! That was where the +headlights they borrowed from motor cars came in. They put one on +each side of the porch and one off in front, so that all the light +was centered right on the porch itself, and it was bathed in as +strong a glare as ever I sang in on the stage. It was almost +blinding, indeed, as I found when I turned to face them and to sing +for them. Needless to say, late though it was and tired as I was, I +never thought of refusing to give them the concert they wanted! + +I should have liked to eat my dinner first, but I couldn't think of +suggesting it. These boys had done a long, hard day's work. Then they +had marched ten miles, and, on top of all that, had waited two hours +for me and fixed up a stage and a lighting system. They were quite as +tired as I, I decided--and they had done a lot more. And so I told +the faithful Johnson to bring wee Tinkle Tom along, and get him up to +the little stage, and I faced my audience in the midst of a storm of +the ghostliest applause I ever hope to hear! + +I could hear them, do you ken, but I could no see a face before me! +In the theater, bright though the footlights are, and greatly as they +dim what lies beyond them, you can still see the white faces of your +audience. At least, you do see something--your eyes help you to know +the audience is there, and, gradually, you can see perfectly, and +pick out a face, maybe, and sing to some one person in the audience, +that you may be sure of your effects. + +It was utter, Stygian darkness that lay beyond the pool of blinding +light in which I stood. Gradually I did make out a little of what lay +beyond, very close to me. I could see dim outlines of human bodies +moving around. And now I was sure there were fireflies about. But +then they stayed so still that I realized, suddenly, with a smile, +just what they were--the glowing ends of cigarettes, of course! + +There were many tall poplar trees around the chateau. I knew where to +look for them, but that night I could scarcely see them. I tried to +find them, for it was a strange, weird sensation to be there as I +was, and I wanted all the help fixed objects could give me. I managed +to pick out their feathery lines in the black distance--the darkness +made them seem more remote than they were, really. Their branches, +when I found them, waved like spirit arms, and I could hear the wind +whispering and sighing among the topmost branches. + +Now and then what we call in Scotland a "batty bird" skimmed past my +face, attracted, I suppose, by the bright light. I suppose that bats +that have not been disturbed before for generations have been aroused +by the blast of war through all that region and have come out of dark +cavernous hiding-places, as those that night must have done, to see +what it is all about, the tumult and the shouting! + +They were verra disconcertin', those bats! They bothered me almost as +much as the whizz bangs had done, earlier in the day! They swished +suddenly out of the darkness against my face, and I would start back, +and hear a ripple of laughter run through that unseen audience of +mine. Aye, it was verra funny for them, but I did not like that part +of it a bit! No man likes to have a bat touch his skin. And I had to +duck quickly to evade those winged cousins of the mouse--and then +hear a soft guffaw arising as I did it. + +I have appeared, sometimes, in theaters in which it was pretty +difficult to find the audience. And such audiences have been nearly +impossible to trace, later, in the box-office reports. But that is +the first time in my life, and, up to now, the last, that I ever sang +to a totally invisible audience! I did not know then how many men +there might have been forty, or four hundred, or four thousand. And, +save for the titters that greeted my encounters with the bats, they +were amazingly quiet as they waited for me to sing. + +It was just about ten minutes before eleven when I began to sing, and +the concert wasn't over until after midnight. I was distinctly +nervous as I began the verse of my first song. It was a great relief +when there was a round of applause; that helped to place my audience +and give me its measure, at once. + +But I was almost as disconcerted a bit later as I had been by the +first incursion of the bats. I came to the chorus, and suddenly, out +of the darkness, there came a perfect gale of sound. It was the men +taking up the chorus, thundering it out. They took the song clean +away from me--I could only gasp and listen. The roar from that unseen +chorus almost took my feet from under me, so amazing was it, and so +unexpected, somehow, used as I was to having soldiers join in a +chorus with me, and disappointed as I should have been had they ever +failed to do so. + +But after that first song, when I knew what to expect, I soon grew +used to the strange surroundings. The weirdness and the mystery wore +off, and I began to enjoy myself tremendously. The conditions were +simply ideal; indeed, they were perfect, for the sentimental songs +that soldiers always like best. Imagine how "Roamin' in the Gloamin'" +went that nicht! + +I had meant to sing three or four songs. But instead I sang nearly +every song I knew. It was one of the longest programmes I gave during +the whole tour, and I enjoyed the concert, myself, better than any I +had yet given. + +My audience was growing all the time, although I did not know that. +The singing brought up crowds from the French village, who gathered +in the outskirts of the throng to listen--and, I make no doubt, to +pass amazed comments on these queer English! + +At last I was too tired to go on. And so I bade the lads good-nicht, +and they gave me a great cheer, and faded away into the blackness. +And I went inside, rubbing my eyes, and wondering if it was no all +a dream! + +"It wasn't Sir Douglas Haig who arrived, was it, Harry?" Godfrey +said, slyly. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The next morning I was tired, as you may believe. I ached in every +limb when I went to my room that night, but a hot bath and a good +sleep did wonders for me. No bombardment could have kept me awake +that nicht! I would no ha' cared had the Hun begun shelling +Tramecourt itself, so long as he did not shell me clear out of my +bed. + +Still, in the morning, though I had not had so much sleep as I would +have liked, I was ready to go when we got the word. We made about as +early a start as usual--breakfast soon after daylight, and then out +the motor cars and to wee Tinkle Tom. Our destination that day, our +first, at least, was Albert--a town as badly smashed and battered as +Arras or Ypres. These towns were long thinly held by the British-- +that is, they were just within our lines, and the Hun could rake them +with his fire at his own evil will. + +It did him no good to batter them to pieces as he did. He wasted +shells upon them that must have been precious to him. His treatment +of them was but a part of his wicked, wanton spirit of +destructiveness. He could not see a place standing that he did not +want to destroy, I think. It was not war he made, as the world had +known war; it was a savage raid against every sign and evidence of +civilization, and comfort and happiness. But always, as I think I +have said before, one thing eluded him. It was the soul of that which +he destroyed. That was beyond his reach, and sore it must have +grieved him to come to know it--for come to know it he has, in +France, and in Belgium, too. + +We passed through a wee town called Doullens on our way from +Tramecourt to Albert. And there, that morn, I saw an old French nun; +an aged woman, a woman old beyond all belief or reckoning. I think +she is still there, where I saw her that day. Indeed, it has seemed +to me, often, as I have thought upon her, that she will always be +there, gliding silently through the deserted streets of that wee +toon, on through all the ages that are to come, and always a cowled, +veiled figure of reproach and hatred for the German race. + +There is some life in that wee place now. There are no more Germans, +and no more shells come there. The battle line has been carried on. +to the East by the British; here they have redeemed a bit of France +from the German yoke. And so we could stop there, in the heat of the +morning, for a bit of refreshment at a cafe that was once, I suppose, +quite a place in that sma' toon. It does but little business now; +passing soldiers bring it some trade, but nothing like what it used +to have. For this is not a town much frequented by troops--or was +not, just at that time. + +There was some trouble, too, with one of the cars, so we went for a +short walk through the town. It was then that we met that old French +nun. Her face and her hands were withered, and deeply graven with the +lines of the years that had bowed her head. Her back was bent, and +she walked slowly and with difficulty. But in her eyes was a soft, +young light that I have often seen in the eyes of priests and nuns, +and that their comforting religion gives them. But as we talked I +spoke of the Germans. + +Gone from her eyes was all their softness. They flashed a bitter and +contemptuous hatred. + +"The Germans!" she said. She spat upon the ground, scornfully, and +with a gesture of infinite loathing. And every time she uttered that +hated word she spat again. It was a ceremony she used; she felt, I +know, that her mouth was defiled by that word, and she wished to +cleanse it. It was no affectation, as, with some folk, you might have +thought it. It was not a studied act. She did it, I do believe, +unconsciously. And it was a gesture marvelously expressive. It spoke +more eloquently of her feelings than many words could have done. + +She had seen the Germans! Aye! She had seen them come, in 1914, in +the first days of the war, rolling past in great, gray waves, for +days and days, as if the flood would never cease to roll. She had +seen them passing, with their guns, in those first proud days of the +war, when they had reckoned themselves invincible, and been so sure +of victory. She knew what cruelties, what indignities, they had put +upon the helpless people the war had swept into their clutch. She +knew the defilements of which they had been guilty. + +Nor was that the first time she had seen Germans. They had come +before she was so old, though even then she had not been a young +girl--in the war of 1870, when Europe left brave France to her fate, +because the German spirit and the German plan were not appreciated or +understood. Thank God the world had learned its lesson by 1914, when +the Hun challenged it again, so that the challenge was met and taken +up, and France was not left alone to bear the brunt of German greed +and German hate. + +She hated the Germans, that old French nun. She was religious; she +knew the teachings of her church. She knew that God says we must love +our enemies. But He could not expect us to love His enemies. + +Albert, when we came to it, we found a ruin indeed. The German guns +had beaten upon it until it was like a rubbish heap in the backyard +of hell. Their malice had wrought a ruin here almost worse than that +at Arras. Only one building had survived although it was crumbling to +ruin. That was a church, and, as we approached it, we could see, from +the great way off, a great gilded figure of the Holy Virgin, holding +in her arms the infant Christ. + +The figure leaned at such an angle, high up against the tottering +wall of the church, that it seemed that it must fall at the next +moment, even as we stared at it. But--it does not fall. Every breath +of wind that comes sets it to swaying, gently. When the wind rises to +a storm it must rock perilously indeed. But still it stays there, +hanging like an inspiration straight from Heaven to all who see it. +The peasants who gaze upon it each day in reverent awe whisper to +you, if you ask them, that when it falls at last the war will be +over, and France will be victorious. + +That is rank superstition, you say? Aye, it may be! But in the region +of the front everyone you meet has become superstitious, if that is +the word you choose. That is especially true of the soldiers. Every +man at the front, it seemed to me, was a fatalist. What is to be will +be, they say. It is certain that this feeling has helped to make them +indifferent to danger, almost, indeed, contemptuous of it. And in +France, I was told, almost everywhere there were shrines in which +figures of Christ or of His Mother had survived the most furious +shelling. All the world knows, too, how, at Rheims, where the great +Cathedral has been shattered in the wickedest and most wanton of all +the crimes of that sort that the Germans have to their account, the +statue of Jeanne d'Arc, who saved France long ago, stands untouched. + +How is a man to account for such things as that? Is he to put them +down to chance, to luck, to a blind fate? I, for one, cannot do so, +nor will I try to learn to do it. + +Fate, to be sure, is a strange thing, as my friends the soldiers know +so well. But there is a difference between fate, or chance, and the +sort of force that preserves statues like those I have named. A man +never knows his luck; he does well not to brood upon it. I remember +the case of a chap I knew, who was out for nearly three years, taking +part in great battles from Mons to Arras. He was scratched once or +twice, but was never even really wounded badly enough to go to +hospital. He went to London, at last, on leave, and within an hour of +the time when he stepped from his train at Charing Cross he was +struck by a 'bus and killed. And there was the strange ease of my +friend, Tamson, the baker, of which I told you earlier. No--a man +never knows his fate! + +So it seemed to me, as we drove toward Arras, and watched that +mysterious figure, that God Himself had chosen to leave it there, as +a sign and a warning and a promise all at once. There was no sign of +life, at first, when we came into the town. Silence brooded over the +ruins. We stopped to have a look around in that scene of desolation, +and as the motors throbbed beneath the hoods it seemed to me the +noise they made was close to being blasphemous. We were right under +that hanging figure of the Virgin and of Christ, and to have left the +silence unbroken would have been more seemly. + +But it was not long before the silence of the town was broken by +another sound. It was marching men we heard, but they were scuffling +with their feet as they came; they had not the rhythmic tread of most +of the British troops we had encountered. Nor were these men, when +they swung into sight, coming around a pile of ruins, just like any +British troops we had seen. I recognized them as once as Australians-- +Kangaroos, as their mates in other divisions called them--by the way +their campaign hats were looped up at one side. These were the first +Australian troops I had seen since I had sailed from Sydney, in the +early days of the war, nearly three years before. Three years! To +think of it--and of what those years had seen! + +"Here's a rare chance to give a concert!" I said, and held up my hand +to the officer in command. + +"Halt!" he cried, and then: "Stand at ease!" I was about to tell him +why I had stopped them, and make myself known to them when I saw a +grin rippling its way over all those bronzed faces--a grin of +recognition. And I saw that the officer knew me, too, even before a +loud voice cried out: + +"Good old Harry Lauder!" + +That was a good Scots voice--even though its owner wore the +Australian uniform. + +"Would the boys like to hear a concert?" I asked the officer. + +"That they would! By all means!" he said. "Glad of the chance! And +so'm I! I've heard you just once before--in Sydney, away back in the +summer of 1914." + +Then the big fellow who had called my name spoke up again. + +"Sing us 'Calligan,'" he begged. "Sing us 'Calligan,' Harry! I heard +you sing it twenty-three years agone, in Motherwell Toon Hall!" + +"Calligan!" The request for that song took me back indeed, through +all the years that I have been before the public. It must have been +at least twenty-three years since he had heard me sing that song--all +of twenty-three years. "Calligan" had been one of the very earliest +of my successes on the stage. I had not thought of the song, much +less sung it, for years and years. In fact, though I racked my +brains, I could not remember the words. And so, much as I should have +liked to do so, I could not sing it for him. But if he was +disappointed, he took it in good part, and he seemed to like some of +the newer songs I had to sing for them as well as he could ever have +liked old "Calligan." + +I sang for these Kangaroos a song I had not sung before in France, +because it seemed to be an especially auspicious time to try it. I +wrote it while I was in Australia, with a view, particularly, to +pleasing Australian audiences, and so repaying them, in some measure, +for the kindly way in which they treated me while I was there. I call +it "Australia Is the Land for Me," and this is the way it goes: + + There's a land I'd like to tell you all about + It's a land in the far South Sea. + It's a land where the sun shines nearly every day + It's the land for you and me. + It's the land for the man with the big strong arm + It's the land for big hearts, too. + It's a land we'll fight for, everything that's right for + Australia is the real true blue! + + Refrain: + + It's the land where the sun shines nearly every day + Where the skies are ever blue. + Where the folks are as happy as the day is long + And there's lots of work to do. + Where the soft winds blow and the gum trees grow + As far as the eye can see, + Where the magpie chaffs and the cuckoo-burra laughs + Australia is the land for me! + +Those Kangaroos took to that song as a duck takes to water! They +raised the chorus with me in a swelling roar as soon as they had +heard it once, to learn it, and their voices roared through the ruins +like vocal shrapnel. You could hear them whoop "Australia Is the Land +for Me!" a mile away. And if anything could have brought down that +tottering statue above us it would have been the way they sang. They +put body and soul, as well as voice, into that final patriotic +declaration of the song. + +We had thought--I speak for Hogge and Adam and myself, and not for +Godfrey, who did not have to think and guess, but know--we had +thought, when we rolled into Albert, that it was a city of the dead, +utterly deserted and forlorn. But now, as I went on singing, we found +that that idea had been all wrong. For as the Australians whooped up +their choruses other soldiers popped into sight. They came pouring +from all directions. + +I have seen few sights more amazing. They came from cracks and +crevices, as it seemed; from under tumbled heaps of ruins, and +dropping down from shells of houses where there were certainly no +stairs. As I live, before I had finished my audience had been swollen +to a great one of two thousand men! When they were all roaring out in +a chorus you could scarce hear Johnson's wee piano at all--it sounded +only like a feeble tinkle when there was a part for it alone. + +I began shaking hands, when I had finished singing. That was a +verrainjudeecious thing for me to attempt there! I had not reckoned +with the strength of the grip of those laddies from the underside of +the world. But I had been there, and I should have known. + +Soon came the order to the Kangaroos: "Fall in!" + +At once the habit of stern discipline prevailed. They swung off +again, and the last we saw of them they were just brown men, +disappearing along a brown road, bound for the trenches. + +Swiftly the mole-like dwellers in Albert melted away, until only a +few officers were left beside the members of the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour. And I grew grave and distraught myself. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +One of the officers at Albert was looking at me in a curiously intent +fashion. I noticed that. And soon he came over to me. "Where do you +go next, Harry?" he asked me. His voice was keenly sympathetic, and +his eyes and his manner were very grave. + +"To a place called Ovilliers," I said. + +"So I thought," he said. He put out his hand, and I gripped it, hard. +"I know, Harry. I know exactly where you are going, and I will send a +man with you to act as your guide, who knows the spot you want to reach." + +I couldn't answer him. I was too deeply moved. For Ovilliers is the +spot where my son, Captain John Lauder, lies in his soldier's grave. +That grave had been, of course, from the very first, the final, the +ultimate objective of my journey. And that morning, as we set out +from Tramecourt, Captain Godfrey had told me, with grave sympathy, +that at last we were coming to the spot that had been so constantly +in my thoughts ever since we had sailed from Folkestone. + +And so a private soldier joined our party as guide, and we took to +the road again. The Bapaume road it was--a famous highway, bitterly +contested, savagely fought for. It was one of the strategic roads of +that whole region, and the Hun had made a desperate fight to keep +control of it. But he had failed--as he has failed, and is failing +still, in all his major efforts in France. + +There was no talking in our car, which, this morning, was the second +in the line. I certainly was not disposed to chat, and I suppose that +sympathy for my feelings, and my glumness, stilled the tongues of my +companions. And, at any rate, we had not traveled far when the car +ahead of us stopped, and the soldier from Albert stepped into the +road and waited for me. I got out when our car stopped, and joined +him. + +"I will show you the place now, Mr. Lauder," he said, quietly. So we +left the cars standing in the road, and set out across a field that, +like all the fields in that vicinity, had been ripped and torn by +shell-fire. All about us, as we crossed that tragic field, there were +little brown mounds, each with a white wooden cross upon it. June was +out that day in full bloom. All over the valley, thickly sown with +those white crosses, wild flowers in rare profusion, and thickly +matted, luxuriant grasses, and all the little shrubs that God Himself +looks after were growing bravely in the sunlight, as though they were +trying to hide the work of the Hun. + +It was a mournful journey, but, in some strange way, the peaceful +beauty of the day brought comfort to me. And my own grief was altered +by the vision of the grief that had come to so many others. Those +crosses, stretching away as far as my eye could reach, attested to +the fact that it was not I alone who had suffered and lost and laid a +sacrifice upon the altar of my country. And, in the presence of so +many evidences of grief and desolation a private grief sank into its +true proportions. It was no less keen, the agony of the thought of my +boy was as sharp as ever. But I knew that he was only one, and that I +was only one father. And there were so many like him--and so many +like me, God help us all! Well, He did help me, as I have told, and I +hope and pray that He has helped many another. I believe He has; +indeed, I know it. + +Hogge and Dr. Adam, my two good friends, walked with me on that sad +pilgrimage. I was acutely conscious of their sympathy; it was sweet +and precious to have it. But I do not think we exchanged a word as we +crossed that field. There was no need of words. I knew, without +speech from them, how they felt, and they knew that I knew. So we +came, when we were, perhaps, half a mile from the Bapaume road, to a +slight eminence, a tiny hill that rose from the field. A little +military cemetery crowned it. Here the graves were set in ordered +rows, and there was a fence set around them, to keep them apart, and +to mark that spot as holy ground, until the end of time. Five hundred +British boys lie sleeping in that small acre of silence, and among +them is my own laddie. There the fondest hopes of my life, the hopes +that sustained and cheered me through many years, lie buried. + +No one spoke. But the soldier pointed, silently and eloquently, to +one brown mound in a row of brown mounds that looked alike, each like +the other. Then he drew away. And Hogge and Adam stopped, and stood +together, quiet and grave. And so I went alone to my boy's grave, and +flung myself down upon the warm, friendly earth. My memories of that +moment are not very clear, but I think that for a few minutes I was +utterly spent, that my collapse was complete. + +He was such a good boy! + +I hope you will not think, those of you, my friends, who may read +what I am writing here, that I am exalting my lad above all the other +Britons who died for King and country--or, and aye, above the brave +laddies of other races who died to stop the Hun. But he was such a +good boy! + +As I lay there on that brown mound, under the June sun that day, all +that he had been, and all that he had meant to me and to his mother +came rushing back afresh to my memory, opening anew my wounds of +grief. I thought of him as a baby, and as a wee laddie beginning to +run around and talk to us. I thought of him in every phase and bit of +his life, and of the friends that we had been, he and I! Such chums +we were, always! + +And as I lay there, as I look back upon it now, I can think of but +the one desire that ruled and moved me. I wanted to reach my arms +down into that dark grave, and clasp my boy tightly to my breast, and +kiss him. And I wanted to thank him for what he had done for his +country, and his mother, and for me. + +Again there came to me, as I lay there, the same gracious solace that +God had given me after I heard of his glorious death. And I knew that +this dark grave, so sad and lonely and forlorn, was but the temporary +bivouac of my boy. I knew that it was no more than a trench of refuge +against the storm of battle, in which he was resting until that hour +shall sound when we shall all be reunited beyond the shadowy +borderland of Death. + +How long did I lie there? I do not know. And how I found the strength +at last to drag myself to my feet and away from that spot, the +dearest and the saddest spot on earth to me, God only knows. It was +an hour of very great anguish for me; an hour of an anguish +different, but only less keen, than that which I had known when they +had told me first that I should never see my laddie in the flesh +again. But as I took up the melancholy journey across that field, +with its brown mounds and its white crosses stretching so far away, +they seemed to bring me a sort of tragic consolation. + +I thought of all the broken-hearted ones at home, in Britain. How +many were waiting, as I had waited, until they, too,--they, too,-- +might come to France, and cast themselves down, as I had done, upon +some brown mound, sacred in their thoughts? How many were praying for +the day to come when they might gaze upon a white cross, as I had +done, and from the brown mound out of which it rose gather a few +crumbs of that brown earth, to be deposited in a sacred corner of a +sacred place yonder in Britain? + +While I was in America, on my last tour, a woman wrote to me from a +town in the state of Maine. She was a stranger to me when she sat +down to write that letter, but I count her now, although I have never +seen her, among my very dearest friends. + +"I have a friend in France," she wrote. "He is there with our +American army, and we had a letter from him the other day. I think +you would like to hear what he wrote to us. + +"'I was walking in the gloaming here in France the other evening,' he +wrote. 'You know, I have always been very fond of that old song of +Harry Lauder's, 'Roamin' in the Gloamin'.' + +"'Well, I was roamin' in the gloamin' myself, and as I went I hummed +that very song, under my breath. And I came, in my walk to a little +cemetery, on a tiny hill. There were many mounds there and many small +white crosses. About one of them a Union Jack was wrapped so tightly +that I could not read the inscription upon it. And something led me +to unfurl that weather-worn flag, so that I could read. And what do +you think? It was the grave of Harry Lauder's son, Captain John +Lauder, of the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders, and his little +family crest was upon the cross. + +"'I stood there, looking down at that grave, and I said a little +prayer, all by myself. And then I rewound the Union Jack about the +cross. I went over to some ruins nearby, and there I found a red rose +growing. I do believe it was the last rose of summer. And I took it +up, very carefully, roots and all, and carried it over to Captain +Lauder's grave, and planted it there.'" + +What a world of comfort those words brought me! + +It was about eight o'clock one morning that Captain Lauder was +killed, between Courcellete and Poizieres, on the Ancre, in the +region that is known as the Somme battlefield. It was soon after +breakfast, and John was going about, seeing to his men. His company +was to be relieved that day, and to go back from the trenches to rest +billets, behind the lines. We had sent our laddie a braw lot of +Christmas packages not long before, but he had had them kept at the +rest billet, so that he might have the pleasure of opening them when +he was out of the trenches, and had a little leisure, even though it +made his Christmas presents a wee bit late. + +There had been a little mist upon the ground, as, at that damp and +chilly season of the year, there nearly always was along the river +Ancre. At that time, on that morning, it was just beginning to rise +as the sun grew strong enough to banish it. I think John trusted too +much to the mist, perhaps. He stepped for just a moment into the +open; for just a moment he exposed himself, as he had to do, no +doubt, to do his duty. And a German sniper, watching for just such +chances, caught a glimpse of him. His rifle spoke; its bullet pierced +John's brave and gentle heart. + +Tate, John's body-servant, a man from our own town, was the first +to reach him. Tate was never far from John's side, and he was +heart-broken when he reached him that morning and found that there +was nothing he could do for him. + +Many of the soldiers who served with John and under him have written +to me, and come to me. And all of them have told me the same thing: +that there was not a man in his company who did not feel his death as +a personal loss and bereavement. And his superior officers have told +me the same thing. In so far as such reports could comfort us his +mother and I have taken solace in them. All that we have heard of +John's life in the trenches, and of his death, was such a report as +we or any parents should want to have of their boy. + +John never lost his rare good nature. There were times when things +were going very badly indeed, but at such times he could always be +counted upon to raise a laugh and uplift the spirits of his men. He +knew them all; he knew them well. Nearly all of them came from his +home region near the Clyde, and so they were his neighbors and his +friends. + +I have told you earlier that John was a good musician. He played the +piano rarely well, for an amateur, and he had a grand singing voice. +And one of his fellow-officers told me that, after the fight at +Beaumont-Hamul, one of the phases of the great Battle of the Somme, +John's company found itself, toward evening, near the ruins of an old +chateau. After that fight, by the way, dire news, sad news, came to +our village of the men of the Argyle and Sutherland regiment, and +there were many stricken homes that mourned brave lads who would +never come home again. + +John's men were near to exhaustion that night. They had done terrible +work that day, and their losses had been heavy. Now that there was an +interlude they lay about, tired and bruised and battered. Many had +been killed; many had been so badly wounded that they lay somewhere +behind, or had been picked up already by the Red Cross men who +followed them across the field of the attack. But there were many +more who had been slightly hurt, and whose wounds began to pain them +grievously now. The spirit of the men was dashed. + +John's friend and fellow-officer told me of the scene. + +"There we were, sir," he said. "We were pretty well done in, I can +tell you. And then Lauder came along. I suppose he was just as tired +and worn out as the rest of us--God knows he had as much reason to +be, and more! But he was as cocky as a little bantam. And he was +smiling. He looked about. + +"'Here--this won't do!' he said. 'We've got to get these lads feeling +better!' He was talking more to himself than to anyone else, I think. +And he went exploring around. He got into what was left of that +chateau--and I can tell you it wasn't much! The Germans had been +using it as a point d'appui--a sort of rallying-place, sir--and our +guns had smashed it up pretty thoroughly. I've no doubt the Fritzies +had taken a hack at it, too, when they found they couldn't hold it +any longer--they usually did. + +"But, by a sort of miracle, there was a piano inside that had come +through all the trouble. The building and all the rest of the +furniture had been knocked to bits, but the piano was all right, +although, as I say, I don't know how that had happened. Lauder spied +it, and went clambering over all the debris and wreckage to reach it. +He tried the keys, and found that the action was all right. So he +began picking out a tune, and the rest of us began to sit up a bit. +And pretty soon he lifted his voice in a rollicking tune--one of your +songs it was, sir--and in no time the men were all sitting up to +listen to him. Then they joined in the chorus--and pretty soon you'd +never have known they'd been tired or worn out! If there'd been a +chance they'd have gone at Fritz and done the day's work all over +again!" + +After John was killed his brother officers sent us all his personal +belongings. We have his field-glasses, with the mud of the trenches +dried upon them. We have a little gold locket that he always wore +around his neck. His mother's picture is in it, and that of the +lassie he was to have married had he come home, after New Year's. And +we have his rings, and his boots, and his watch, and all the other +small possessions that were a part of his daily life out there in +France. + +Many soldiers and officers of the Argyle and Sutherlanders pass the +hoose at Dunoon on the Clyde. None ever passes the hoose, though, +without dropping in, for a bite and sup if he has time to stop, and +to tell us stories of our beloved boy. + +No, I would no have you think that I would exalt my boy above all the +others who have lived and died in France in the way of duty. But he +was such a good boy! We have heard so many tales like those I have +told you, to make us proud of him, and glad that he bore his part as +a man should. + +He will stay there, in that small grave on that tiny hill. I shall +not bring his body back to rest in Scotland, even if the time comes +when I might do so. It is a soldier's grave, and an honorable place +for him to be, and I feel it is there that he would wish to lie, with +his men lying close about him, until the time comes for the great +reunion. + +But I am going back to France to visit again and again that grave +where he lies buried. So long as I live myself that hill will be the +shrine to which my many pilgrimages will be directed. The time will +come again when I may take his mother with me, and when we may kneel +together at that spot. + +And meanwhile the wild flowers and the long grasses and all the +little shrubs will keep watch and ward over him there, and over all +the other brave soldiers who lie hard by, who died for God and for +their flag. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +So at last, I turned back toward the road, and very slowly, with +bowed head and shoulders that felt very old, all at once, I walked +back toward the Bapaume highway. I was still silent, and when we +reached the road again, and the waiting cars, I turned, and looked +back, long and sorrowfully, at that tiny hill, and the grave it +sheltered. Godfrey and Hogge and Adam, Johnson and the soldiers of +our party, followed my gaze. But we looked in silence; not one of us +had a word to say. There are moments, as I suppose we have all had to +learn, that are beyond words and speech. + +And then at last we stepped back into the cars, and resumed our +journey on the Bapaume road. We started slowly, and I looked back +until a turn in the road hid that field with its mounds and its +crosses, and that tiny cemetery on the wee hill. So I said good-by to +my boy again, for a little space. + +Our road was by way of Poizieres, and this part of our journey took +us through an area of fearful desolation. It was the country that was +most bitterly fought over in the summer long battle of the Somme in +1916, when the new armies of Britain had their baptism of fire and +sounded the knell of doom for the Hun. It was then he learned that +Britain had had time, after all, to train troops who, man for man, +outmatched his best. + +Here war had passed like a consuming flame, leaving no living thing +in its path. The trees were mown down, clean to the ground. The very +earth was blasted out of all semblance to its normal kindly look. The +scene was like a picture of Hell from Dante's Inferno; there is nothing +upon this earth that may be compared with it. Death and pain and agony +had ruled this whole countryside, once so smiling and fair to see. + +After we had driven for a space we came to something that lay by the +roadside that was a fitting occupant of such a spot. It was like the +skeleton of some giant creature of a prehistoric age, incredibly +savage even in its stark, unlovely death. It might have been the +frame of some vast, metallic tumble bug, that, crawling ominously +along this road of death, had come into the path of a Colossus, and +been stepped upon, and then kicked aside from the road to die. + +"That's what's left of one of our first tanks," said Godfrey. "We +used them first in this battle of the Somme, you remember. And that +must have been one of the very earliest ones. They've been improved +and perfected since that time." + +"How came it like this?" I asked, gazing at it, curiously. + +"A direct hit from a big German shell--a lucky hit, of course. That's +about the only thing that could put even one of the first tanks out +of action that way. Ordinary shells from field pieces, machine-gun +fire, that sort of thing, made no impression on the tanks. But, of +course----" + +I could see for myself. The in'ards of the monster had been pretty +thoroughly knocked out. Well, that tank had done its bit, I have no +doubt. And, since its heyday, the brain of Mars has spawned so many +new ideas that this vast creature would have been obsolete, and ready +for the scrap heap, even had the Hun not put it there before its +time. + +At the Butte de Marlincourt, one of the most bitterly contested bits +of the battlefield, we passed a huge mine crater, and I made an +inspection of it. It was like the crater of an old volcano, a huge +old mountain with a hole in its center. Here were elaborate dugouts, +too, and many graves. + +Soon we came to Bapaume. Bapaume was one of the objectives the +British failed to reach in the action of 1916. But early in 1917 the +Germans, seeing they had come to the end of their tether there, +retreated, and gave the town up. But what a town they left! Bapaume +was nearly as complete a ruin as Arras and Albert. But it had not +been wrecked by shell-fire. The Hun had done the work in cold blood. +The houses had been wrecked by human hands. Pictures still hung +crazily upon the walls. Grates were falling out of fire-places. Beds +stood on end. Tables and chairs were wantonly smashed and there was +black ruin everywhere. + +We drove on then to a small town where the skirling of pipes heralded +our coming. It was the headquarters of General Willoughby and the +Fortieth Division. Highlanders came flocking around to greet us +warmly, and they all begged me to sing to them. But the officer in +command called them to attention. + +"Men," he said, "Harry Lauder comes to us fresh from the saddest +mission of his life. We have no right to expect him to sing for us +to-day, but if it is God's will that he should, nothing could give us +greater pleasure." + +My heart was very heavy within me, and never, even on the night when +I went back to the Shaftesbury Theater, have I felt less like +singing. But I saw the warm sympathy on the faces of the boys. + +"If you'll take me as I am," I told them, "I will try to sing for +you. I will do my best, anyway. When a man is killed, or a battalion +is killed, or a regiment is killed, the war goes on, just the same. +And if it is possible for you to fight with broken ranks, I'll try to +sing for you with a broken heart." + +And so I did, and, although God knows it must have been a feeble +effort, the lads gave me a beautiful reception. I sang my older songs +for them--the songs my own laddie had loved. + +They gave us tea after I had sung for them, with chocolate eclairs as +a rare treat! We were surprised to get such fare upon the +battlefield, but it was a welcome surprise. + +We turned back from Bapaume, traveling along another road on the +return journey. And on the way we met about two hundred German +prisoners--the first we had seen in any numbers. They were working on +the road, under guard of British soldiers. They looked sleek and +well-fed, and they were not working very hard, certainly. Yet I +thought there was something about their expression like that of +neglected animals. I got out of the car and spoke to an intelligent- +looking little chap, perhaps about twenty-five years old--a sergeant. +He looked rather suspicious when I spoke to him, but he saluted +smartly, and stood at attention while we talked, and he gave me ready +and civil answers. + +"You speak English?" I asked. "Fluently?" + +"Yes, sir!" + +"How do you like being a prisoner?" + +"I don't like it. It's very degrading." + +"Your companions look pretty happy. Any complaints?" + +"No, sir! None!" + +"What are the Germans fighting for? What do you hope to gain?" + +"The freedom of the seas!" + +"But you had that before the war broke out!" + +"We haven't got it now." + +I laughed at that. + +"Certainly not," I said. "Give us credit for doing something! But how +are you going to get it again?" + +"Our submarines will get it for us." + +"Still," I said, "you must be fighting for something else, too?" + +"No," he said, doggedly. "Just for the freedom of the seas." + +I couldn't resist telling him a bit of news that the censor was +keeping very carefully from his fellow-Germans at home. + +"We sank seven of your submarines last week," I said. + +He probably didn't believe that. But his face paled a bit, and his +lips puckered, and he scowled. Then, as I turned away, he whipped his +hand to his forehead in a stiff salute, but I felt that it was not +the most gracious salute I had ever seen! Still, I didn't blame him +much! + +Captain Godfrey meant to show us another village that day. + +"Rather an interesting spot," he said. "They differ, these French +villages. They're not all alike, by any means." + +Then, before long, he began to look puzzled. And finally he called +a halt. + +"It ought to be right here," he said. "It was, not so long ago." + +But there was no village! The Hun had passed that way. And the +village for which Godfrey was seeking had been utterly wiped off the +face of the earth! Not a trace of it remained. Where men and women +and little children had lived and worked and played in quiet +happiness the abominable desolation that is the work of the Hun +had come. There was nothing to show that they or their village +had ever been. + +The Hun knows no mercy! + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +There had been, originally, a perfectly definite route for the +Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour--as definite a route as is mapped +out for me when I am touring the United States. Our route had called +for a fairly steady progress from Vimy Ridge to Peronne--like +Bapaume, one of the great unreached objectives of the Somme +offensive, and, again like Bapaume, ruined and abandoned by the +Germans in the retreat of the spring of 1917. But we made many side +trips and gave many and many an unplanned, extemporaneous roadside +concert, as I have told. + +For all of us it had been a labor of love. I will always believe that +I sang a little better on that tour than I have ever sung before or +ever shall again, and I am sure, too, that Hogge and Dr. Adam spoke +more eloquently to their soldier hearers than they ever did in +parliament or church. My wee piano, Tinkle Tom, held out staunchly. +He never wavered in tune, though he got some sad jouncings as he +clung to the grid of a swift-moving car. As for Johnson, my +Yorkshireman, he was as good an accompanist before the tour ended as +I could ever want, and he took the keenest interest and delight in +his work, from start to finish. + +Captain Godfrey, our manager, must have been proud indeed of the +"business" his troupe did. The weather was splendid; the "houses" +everywhere were so big that if there had been Standing Room Only +signs they would have been called into use every day. And his company +got a wonderful reception wherever it showed! He had everything a +manager could have to make his heart rejoice. And he did not, like +many managers, have to be continually trying to patch up quarrels in +the company! He had no petty professional jealousies with which to +contend; such things were unknown in our troupe! + +All the time while I was singing in France I was elaborating an idea +that had for some time possessed me, and that was coming now to +dominate me utterly. I was thinking of the maimed soldiers, the boys +who had not died, but had given a leg, or an arm, or their sight to +the cause, and who were doomed to go through the rest of their lives +broken and shattered and incomplete. They were never out of my +thoughts. I had seen them before I ever came to France, as I traveled +the length and breadth of the United Kingdom, singing for the men in +the camps and the hospitals, and doing what I could to help in the +recruiting. And I used to lie awake of nights, wondering what would +become of those poor broken laddies when the war was over and we were +all setting to work again to rebuild our lives. + +And especially I thought of the brave laddies of my ain Scotland. +They must have thought often of their future. They must have wondered +what was to become of them, when they had to take up the struggle +with the world anew--no longer on even terms with their mates, but +handicapped by grievous injuries that had come to them in the noblest +of ways. I remembered crippled soldiers, victims of other wars, whom +I had seen selling papers and matches on street corners, objects of +charity, almost, to a generation that had forgotten the service to +the country that had put them in the way of having to make their +living so. And I had made a great resolution that, if I could do +aught to prevent it, no man of Scotland who had served in this war +should ever have to seek a livelihood in such a manner. + +So I conceived the idea of raising a great fund to be used for giving +the maimed Scots soldiers a fresh start in life. They would be +pensioned by the government. I knew that. But I knew, too, that a +pension is rarely more than enough to keep body and soul together. +What these crippled men would need, I felt, was enough money to set +them up in some little business of their own, that they could see to +despite their wounds, or to enable them to make a new start in some +old business or trade, if they could do so. + +A man might need a hundred pounds, I thought, or two hundred pounds, +to get him started properly again. And I wanted to be able to hand a +man what money he might require. I did not want to lend it to him, +taking his note or his promise to pay. Nor did I want to give it to +him as charity. I wanted to hand it to him as a freewill offering, as +a partial payment of the debt Scotland owed him for what he had done +for her. + +And I thought, too, of men stricken by shell-shock, or paralyzed in +the war--there are pitifully many of both sorts! I did not want them +to stay in bare and cold and lonely institutions. I wanted to take +them out of such places, and back to their homes; home to the village +and the glen. I wanted to get them a wheel-chair, with an old, +neighborly man or an old neighborly woman, maybe, to take them for an +airing in the forenoon, and the afternoon, that they might breathe +the good Scots air, and see the wild flowers growing, and hear the +song of the birds. + +That was the plan that had for a long time been taking form in my mind. +I had talked it over with some of my friends, and the newspapers had +heard of it, somehow, and printed a few paragraphs about it. It was +still very much in embryo when I went to France, but, to my surprise, +the Scots soldiers nearly always spoke of it when I was talking with +them. They had seen the paragraphs in the papers, and I soon realized +that it loomed up as a great thing for them. + +"Aye, it's a grand thing you're thinking of, Harry," they said, again +and again. "Now we know we'll no be beggars in the street, now that +we've got a champion like you, Harry." + +I heard such words as that first from a Highlander at Arras, and from +that moment I have thought of little else. Many of the laddies told +me that the thought of being killed did not bother them, but that +they did worry a bit about their future in case they went home maimed +and helpless. + +"We're here to stay until there's no more work to do, if it takes +twenty years, Harry," they said. "But it'll be a big relief to know +we will be cared for if we must go back crippled." + +I set the sum I would have to raise to accomplish the work I had in +mind at a million pounds sterling--five million dollars. It may seem +a great sum to some, but to me, knowing the purpose for which it is +to be used, it seems small enough. And my friends agree with me. When +I returned from France I talked to some Scots friends, and a meeting +was called, in Glasgow, of the St. Andrews Society. I addressed it, +and it declared itself in cordial sympathy with the idea. Then I went +to Edinburgh, and down to London, and back north to Manchester. +Everywhere my plan was greeted with the greatest enthusiasm, and the +real organization of the fund was begun on September 17 and 18, 1917. + +This fund of mine is known officially as "The Harry Lauder Million +Pound Fund for Maimed Men, Scottish Soldiers and Sailors." It does +not in any way conflict with nor overlap, any other work already +being done. I made sure of that, because I talked to the Pension +Minister, and his colleagues, in London, before I went ahead with my +plans, and they fully and warmly approved everything that I planned +to do. + +The Earl of Rosebery, former Prime Minister of Britain, is Honorary +President of the Fund, and Lord Balfour of Burleigh is its treasurer. +And as I write we have raised an amount well into six figures in +pounds sterling. One of the things that made me most willing to +undertake my last tour of America was my feeling that I could secure +the support and cooperation of the Scottish people in America for my +fund better by personal appeals than in any other way. At the end of +every performance I gave during the tour, I told my audience what I +was doing and the object of the fund, and, although I addressed +myself chiefly to the Scots, there has been a most generous and +touching response from Americans as well. + +We distributed little plaid-bordered envelopes, in which folk were +invited to send contributions to the bank in New York that was the +American depository. And after each performance Mrs. Lauder stood in +the lobby and sold little envelopes full of stamps, "sticky backs," +as she called them, like the Red Cross seals that have been sold so +long in America at Christmas time. She sold them for a quarter, or +for whatever they would bring, and all the money went to the fund. + +I had a novel experience sometimes. Often I would no sooner have +explained what I was doing than I would feel myself the target of a +sort of bombardment. At first I thought Germans were shooting at me, +but I soon learned that it was money that was being thrown! And every +day my dressing-table would be piled high with checks and money +orders and paper money sent direct to me instead of to the bank. But +I had to ask the guid folk to cease firing--the money was too apt to +be lost! + +Folk of all races gave liberally. I was deeply touched at Hot +Springs, Arkansas, where the stage hands gave me the money they had +received for their work during my engagement. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +I have stopped for a wee digression about my fund. I saw many +interesting things in France, and dreadful things. And it was +impressed upon me more and more that the Hun knows no mercy. The +wicked, wanton things he did in France, and that I saw! + +There was Mont St. Quentin, one of the very strongest of the +positions out of which the British turned him. There was a chateau +there, a bonnie place. And hard by was a wee cemetery. The Hun had +smashed its pretty monuments, and he had reached into that sacred +soil with his filthy claws, and dragged out the dead from their +resting-place, and scattered their helpless bones about. + +He ruined Peronne in wanton fury because it was passing from his +grip. He wrecked its old cathedral, once one of the loveliest sights +in France. He took away the old fleurs-de-lis from the great gates of +Peronne. He stole and carried away the statues that used to stand in +the old square. He left the great statue of St. Peter, still standing +in the churchyard, but its thumb was broken off. I found it, as I +rummaged about idly in the debris at the statue's foot. + +It was no casual looting that the Huns did. They did their work +methodically, systematically. It was a sight to make the angels weep. + +As I left the ruined cathedral I met a couple of French poilus, and +tried to talk with them. But they spoke "very leetle" English, and I +fired all my French words at them in one sentence. + +"Oui, oui, madame," I said. "Encore pomme du terre. Fini!" + +They laughed, but we did no get far with our talk! Not in French. + +"You can't love the Hun much, after this," I said. + +"Ze Hun? Ze bloody Boche?" cried one of them. "I keel heem all my +life!" + +I was glad to quit Peronne. The rape of that lovely church saddened +me more than almost any sight I saw in France. I did not care to look +at it. So I was glad when we motored on to the headquarters of the +Fourth Army, where I had the honor of meeting one of Britain's +greatest soldiers, General Sir Henry Rawlinson, who greeted us most +cordially, and invited us to dinner. + +After dinner we drove on toward Amiens. We were swinging back now, +toward Boulogne, and were scheduled to sleep that night at Amiens-- +which the Germans held for a few days, during their first rush toward +Paris, before the Marne, but did not have time to destroy. + +Adam knew Amiens, and was made welcome, with the rest of us, at an +excellent hotel. Von Kluck had made its headquarters when he swung +that way from Brussels, and it was there he planned the dinner he +meant to eat in Paris with the Kaiser. Von Kluck demanded an +indemnity of a million dollars from Amiens to spare its famous old +cathedral. + +It was late when we arrived, but before I slept I called for the +boots and ordered a bottle of ginger ale. I tried to get him to tell +me about old von Kluck and his stay but he couldn't talk English, and +was busy, anyway, trying to open the bottle without cutting the wire. +Adam and Hogge are fond, to this day, of telling how I shouted at +him, finally: + +"Well, how do you expect to open that bottle when you can't even talk +the English language?" + +Next day was Sunday, and we went to church in the cathedral, which +von Kluck didn't destroy, after all. There were signs of war; the +windows and the fine carved doors were banked with sand bags as a +measure of protection from bombing airplanes. + +I gave my last roadside concert on the road from Amiens to Boulogne. +It was at a little place called Ouef, and we had some trouble in +finding it and more in pronouncing its name. Some of us called it +Off, some Owf! I knew I had heard the name somewhere, and I was +racking my brains to think as Johnson set up our wee piano and I +began to sing. Just as I finished my first song a rooster set up a +violent crowing, in competition with me, and I remembered! + +"I know where I am!" I cried. "I'm at Egg!" + +And that is what Oeuf means, in English! + +The soldiers were vastly amused. They were Gordon Highlanders, and I +found a lot of chaps among them frae far awa' Aberdeen. Not many of +them are alive to-day! But that day they were a gay lot and a bonnie +lot. There was a big Highlander who said to me, very gravely: + +"Harry, the only good thing I ever saw in a German was a British +bayonet! If you ever hear anyone at hame talking peace--cut off their +heads! Or send them out to us, and we'll show them. There's a job to +do here, and we'll do it. + +"Look!" he said, sweeping his arm as if to include all France. "Look +at yon ruins! How would you like old England or auld Scotland to be +looking like that? We're not only going to break and scatter the Hun +rule, Harry. If we do no more than that, it will surely be reassembled +again. We're going to destroy it." + +On the way from Oeuf to Boulogne we visited a small, out of the way +hospital, and I sang for the lads there. And I was going around, +afterward, talking to the boys on their cots, and came to a young +chap whose head and face were swathed in bandages. + +"How came you to be hurt, lad?" I asked. + +"Well, sir," he said, "we were attacking one morning. I went over the +parapet with the rest, and got to the German trench all right. I +wasn't hurt. And I went down, thirty feet deep, into one of their +dugouts. You wouldn't think men could live so--but, of course, +they're not men--they're animals! There was a lighted candle on a +shelf, and beside it a fountain pen. It was just an ordinary-looking +pen, and it was fair loot--I thought some chap had meant to write a +letter, and forgotten his pen when our attack came. So I slipped it +in my pocket. + +"Two days later I was going to write a few lines to my mother and +tell her I was all right, so I thought I'd try my new pen. And when I +unscrewed the cap it exploded--and, well, you see me, Harry! It blew +half of my face away!" + +The Hun knows no mercy. + +I was glad to see Boulogne again--the white buildings on the white +hills, and the harbor beyond. Here the itinerary of the Reverend +Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour, came to its formal end. But, since there +were many new arrivals in the hospitals--the population of a base +shifts quickly--we were asked to give a couple more concerts in the +hospitals where we had first appeared on French soil. + +A good many thousand Canadians had just come in, so I sang at Base +Hospital No. 1, and then gave another and farewell concert at the +great convalescent camp on the hill. And then we said good-by to +Captain Godfrey, and the chauffeurs, and to Johnson, my accompanist, +ready to go back to his regiment now. I told them all I hoped that +when I came to France again to sing we could reassemble all the +original cast, and I pray that we may! + +On Monday we took boat again for Folkestone. The boat was crowded +with men going home on leave, and I wandered among them. I heard many +a tale of heroism and courage, of splendid sacrifice and suffering +nobly borne. Destroyers, as before, circled about us, and there was +no hint of trouble from a Hun submarine. + +On our boat was Lord Dalmeny, a King's Messenger, carrying dispatches +from the front. He asked me how I had liked the "show." It is so that +nearly all British soldiers refer to the war. + +They had earned their rest, those laddies who were going home to +Britain. But some of them were half sorry to be going! I talked to +one of them. + +"I don't know, Harry," he said. "I was looking forward to this leave +for a long time. I've been oot twa years. My heart jumped with joy at +first at the thought of seeing my mother and the auld hame. But now +that I'm started, and in a fair way to get there, I'm no so happy. +You see--every young fellow frae my toon is awa'. I'm the only one +going back. Many are dead. It won't be the same. I've a mind just to +stay on London till my leave is up, and then go back. If I went home +my mother would but burst out greetin', an' I think I could no stand +that." + +But, as for me, I was glad, though I was sorry, too, to be going +home. I wanted to go back again. But I wanted to hurry to my wife, +and tell her what I had seen at our boy's grave. And so I did, so +soon as I landed on British ground once more. + +I felt that I was bearing a message to her. A message from our boy. I +felt--and I still feel--that I could tell her that all was well with +him, and with all the other soldiers of Britain, who sleep, like him, +in the land of the bleeding lily. They died for humanity, and God +will not forget. + +And I think there is something for me to say to all those who are to +know a grief such as I knew. Every mother and father who loves a son +in this war must have a strong, unbreakable faith in the future life, +in the world beyond, where you will see your son again. Do not give +way to grief. Instead, keep your gaze and your faith firmly fixed on +the world beyond, and regard your boy's absence as though he were but +on a journey. By keeping your faith you will help to win this war. +For if you lose it, the war and your personal self are lost. + +My whole perspective was changed by my visit to the front. Never +again shall I know those moments of black despair that used to come +to me. In my thoughts I shall never be far away from the little +cemetery hard by the Bapaume road. And life would not be worth the +living for me did I not believe that each day brings me nearer to +seeing him again. + +I found a belief among the soldiers in France that was almost +universal. I found it among all classes of men at the front; among +men who had, before the war, been regularly religious, along +well-ordered lines, and among men who had lived just according to +their own lights. Before the war, before the Hun went mad, the young +men of Britain thought little of death or what might come after death. +They were gay and careless, living for to-day. Then war came, and with +it death, astride of every minute, every hour. And the young men began +to think of spiritual things and of God. + +Their faces, their deportments, may not have shown the change. But it +was in their hearts. They would not show it. Not they! But I have +talked with hundreds of men along the front. And it is my conviction +that they believe, one and all, that if they fall in battle they only +pass on to another. And what a comforting belief that is! + +"It is that belief that makes us indifferent to danger and to death," +a soldier said to me. "We fight in a righteous cause and a holy war. +God is not going to let everything end for us just because the mortal +life quits the shell we call the body. You may be sure of that." + +And I am sure of it, indeed! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Minstrel In France, by Harry Lauder + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11211 *** diff --git a/11211.txt b/11211.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8051b1f --- /dev/null +++ b/11211.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8718 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Minstrel In France, by Harry Lauder + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Minstrel In France + +Author: Harry Lauder + +Release Date: February 21, 2004 [EBook #11211] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MINSTREL IN FRANCE *** + + + + +Produced by Geoff Palmer + + + + +A MINSTREL IN FRANCE + +BY + +HARRY LAUDER + + +[ILLUSTRATION: _frontispiece_ Harry Lauder and his son, Captain John +Lauder. (see Lauder01.jpg)] + + +TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED SON +CAPTAIN JOHN LAUDER + +First 8th, Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders +Killed in France, December 28, 1916 + +Oh, there's sometimes I am lonely +And I'm weary a' the day +To see the face and clasp the hand +Of him who is away. +The only one God gave me, +My one and only joy, +My life and love were centered on +My one and only boy. + +I saw him in his infant days +Grow up from year to year, +That he would some day be a man +I never had a fear. +His mother watched his every step, +'Twas our united joy +To think that he might be one day +My one and only boy. + +When war broke out he buckled on +His sword, and said, "Good-bye. +For I must do my duty, Dad; +Tell Mother not to cry, +Tell her that I'll come back again." +What happiness and joy! +But no, he died for Liberty, +My one and only boy. + +The days are long, the nights are drear, +The anguish breaks my heart, +But oh! I'm proud my one and only +Laddie played his part. +For God knows best, His will be done, +His grace does me employ. +I do believe I'll meet again +My one and only boy. + +by Harry Lauder + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +Harry Lauder and His Son, Captain John Lauder + +"I did not stop at sending out my recruiting band. I went out myself" + +"'Carry On!' were the last words of my boy, Captain John Lauder, to +his men, but he would mean them for me, too" + +"Bang! Went Sixpence" + +"Harry Lauder preserves the bonnet of his son, brought to him from +where the lad fell, 'The memory of his boy, it is almost his +religion.'--A tatter of plaid of the Black Watch. on a wire of a +German entanglement barely suggests the hell the Scotch troops have +gone through" + +"Captain John Lauder and Comrades Before the Trenches in France" + +"Make us laugh again, Harry!' Though I remember my son and want to +join the ranks, I have obeyed" + +"Harry Lauder, 'Laird of Dunoon.'" +--Medal struck off by Germany when _Lusitania_ was sunk" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +Yon days! Yon palmy, peaceful days! I go back to them, and they are +as a dream. I go back to them again and again, and live them over. +Yon days of another age, the age of peace, when no man dared even to +dream of such times as have come upon us. + +It was in November of 1913, and I was setting forth upon a great +journey, that was to take me to the other side of the world before I +came back again to my wee hoose amang the heather at Dunoon. My wife +was going with me, and my brother-in-law, Tom Valiance, for they go +everywhere with me. But my son John was coming with us only to +Glasgow, and then, when we set out for Liverpool and the steamer that +was to bring us to America he was to go back to Cambridge. He was +near done there, the bonnie laddie. He had taken his degree as +Bachelor of Arts, and was to set out soon upon a trip around the +world. + +Was that no a fine plan I had made for my son? That great voyage he +was to have, to see the world and all its peoples! It was proud I was +that I could give it to him. He was--but it may be I'll tell you more +of John later in this book! + +My pen runs awa' with me, and my tongue, too, when I think of my boy +John. + +We came to the pier at Dunoon, and there she lay, the little ferry +steamer, the black smoke curling from her stack straight up to God. +Ah, the braw day it was! There was a frosty sheen upon the heather, +and the Clyde was calm as glass. The tops of the hills were coated +with snow, and they stood out against the horizon like great big +sugar loaves. + +We were a' happy that day! There was a crowd to see us off. They had +come to bid me farewell and godspeed, all my friends and my +relations, and I went among them, shaking them by the hand and +thinking of the long whiles before I'd be seeing them again. And then +all my goodbys were said, and we went aboard, and my voyage had begun. + +I looked back at the hills and the heather, and I thought of all I +was to do and see before I saw those hills again. I was going half +way round the world and back again. I was going to wonderful places +to see wonderful things and curious faces. But oftenest the thought +came to me, as I looked at my son, that him I would see again before +I saw the heather and the hills and all the friends and the relations +I was leaving behind me. For on his trip around the world he was to +meet us in Australia! It was easier to leave him, easier to set out, +knowing that, thinking of that! + +Wonderful places I went to, surely. And wonderful things I saw and +heard. But the most wonderful thing of all that I was to see or hear +upon that voyage I did not dream of nor foresee. How was a mortal man +to foresee? How was he to dream of it? + +Could I guess that the very next time I set out from Dunoon pier the +peaceful Clyde would be dotted with patrol boats, dashing hither and +thither! Could I guess that everywhere there would be boys in khaki, +and women weeping, and that my boy, John----! Ah, but I'll not tell +you of that now. + +Peaceful the Clyde had been, and peaceful was the Mersey when we +sailed from Liverpool for New York. I look back on yon voyage--the +last I took that way in days of peace. Next time! Destroyers to guard +us from the Hun and his submarines, and to lay us a safe course +through the mines. And sailor boys, about their guns, watching, +sweeping the sea every minute for the flash of a sneaking pirate's +periscope showing for a second above a wave! + +But then! It was a quiet trip, with none but the ups and doons of +every Atlantic crossing--more ups than doons, I'm telling you! + +I was glad to be in America again, glad to see once more the friends +I'd made. They turned out to meet me and to greet me in New York, and +as I travelled across the continent to San Francisco it was the same. +Everywhere I had friends; everywhere they came crowding to shake me +by the hand with a "How are you the day, Harry?" + +It was a long trip, but it was a happy one. How long ago it seems +now, as I write, in this new day of war! How far away are all the +common, kindly things that then I did not notice, and that now I +would give the world and a' to have back again! + +Then, everywhere I went, they pressed their dainties upon me whenever +I sat down for a sup and a bite. The board groaned with plenty. I was +in a rich country, a country where there was enough for all, and to +spare. And now, as I am writing I am travelling again across America. +And there is not enough. When I sit down at table there is a card of +Herbert Hoover's, bidding me be careful how I eat and what I choose. +Ay, but he has no need to warn me! Well I know the truth, and how +America is helping to feed her allies over there, and so must be +sparing herself. + +To think of it! In yon far day the world was all at peace. And now +that great America, that gave so little thought to armies and to +cannon, is fighting with my ain British against the Hun! + +It was in March of 1914 that we sailed from San Francisco, on the +tenth of the month. It was a glorious day as we stood on the deck of +the old Pacific liner _Sonoma_. I was eager and glad to be off. To be +sure, America had been kinder to me than ever, and I was loath, in a +way, to be leaving her and all the friends of mine she held--old +friends of years, and new ones made on that trip. But I was coming +back. And then there was one great reason for my eagerness that few +folk knew--that my son John was coming to meet me in Australia. I was +missing him sore already. + +They came aboard the old tubby liner to see us off, friends by the +score. They kept me busy shaking hands. + +"Good-by, Harry," they said. And "Good luck, Harry," they cried. And +just before the bugles sounded all ashore I heard a few of them +crooning an old Scots song: + +"Will ye no come back again?" + +"Aye, I'll come back again!" I told them when I heard them. + +"Good, Harry, good!" they cried back to me. "It's a promise! We'll be +waiting for you--waiting to welcome you!" + +And so we sailed from San Francisco and from America, out through the +Golden Gate, toward the sunset. Here was beauty for me, who loved it +new beauty, such as I had not seen before. They were quiet days, +happy days, peaceful days. I was tired after my long tour, and the +days at sea rested me, with good talk when I craved it, and time to +sleep, and no need to give thought to trains, or to think, when I +went to bed, that in the night they'd rouse me from my sleep by +switching my car and giving me a bump. + +We came first to Hawaii, and I fell in love with the harbor of +Honolulu as we sailed in. Here, at last, I began to see the strange +sights and hear the strange sounds I had been looking forward to ever +since I left my wee hoose at Dunoon. Here was something that was +different from anything that I had ever seen before. + +We did not stay so long. On the way home I was to stay over and give +a performance in Honolulu, but not now. Our time was given up to +sight seeing, and to meeting some of the folk of the islands. They +ken hospitality! We made many new friends there, short as the time +was. And, man! The lassies! You want to cuddle the first lassie +you meet when you step ashore at Honolulu. But you don't--if the +wife is there! + +It was only because I knew that we were to stop longer on the way +back that I was willing to leave Honolulu at all. So we sailed on, +toward Australia. And now I knew that my boy was about setting out on +his great voyage around the world. Day by day I would get out the map, +and try to prick the spot where he'd be. + +And I'd think: "Aye! When I'm here John'll be there! Will he be +nearer to me than now?" + +Thinking of the braw laddie, setting out, so proud and happy, made me +think of my ain young days. My father couldna' give me such a chance +as my boy was to have. I'd worked in the mines before I was John's +age. There'd been no Cambridge for me--no trip around the world as a +part of my education. And I thanked God that he was letting me do so +much for my boy. + +Aye, and he deserved it, did John! He'd done well at Cambridge; he +had taken honors there. And soon he was to go up to London to read +for the Bar. He was to be a barrister, in wig and gown, my son, John! + +It was of him, and of the meeting we were all to have in Australia, +that I thought, more than anything else, in the long, long days upon +the sea. We sailed on from Honolulu until we came to Paga-Paga. So it +is spelled, but all the natives call it Panga-Panga. + +Here I saw more and yet more of the strange and wonderful things I +had thought upon so long back, in Dunoon. Here I saw mankind, for the +first time, in a natural state. I saw men who wore only the figleaf +of old Father Adam, and a people who lived from day to day, and whom +the kindly earth sustained. + +They lived entirely from vegetables and from clear crystal streams +and upon marvelous fish from the sea. Ah, how I longed to stay in +Paga-Paga and be a natural man. But I must go on. Work called me back +to civilization and sorrow-fully I heeded its call and waved good-by +to the natural folk of Paga-Paga! + +It was before I came to Paga-Paga that I wrote a little verse +inspired by Honolulu. Perhaps, if I had gone first to Paga-Paga-- +don't forget to put in the n and call it Panga-Panga when you say it +to yourself!--I might have written it of that happy island of the +natural folk. But I did not, so here is the verse: + + I love you, Honolulu, Honolulu I love you! + You are the Queen of the Sea! + Your valleys and mountains + Your palais and fountains + Forever and ever will be dear to me! + +I wedded a simple melody to those simple, heart-felt lines, and since +then I have sung the song in pretty nearly every part of the world-- +and in Honolulu itself. + +Our journey was drawing to its end. We were coming to a strange land +indeed. And yet I knew there were Scots folk there--where in the +world are there not? I thought they would be glad to see me, but how +could I be sure? It was a far, far cry from Dunoon and the Clyde and +the frost upon the heather on the day I had set out. + +We were to land at Sydney. I was a wee bit impatient after we had +made our landfall, while the old _Sonoma_ poked her way along. But +she would not be hurried by my impatience. And at last we came to the +Sydney Heads--the famous Harbor Heads. If you have never seen it I do +not know how better to tell you of it than to say that it makes me +think of the entrance to a great cave that has no roof. In we went-- +and were within that great, nearly landlocked harbor. + +And what goings on there were! The harbor was full of craft, both +great and sma'. And each had all her bunting flying. Oh, they were +braw in the sunlight, with the gay colors and the bits of flags, all +fluttering and waving in the breeze! + +And what a din there was, with the shrieking of the whistle and the +foghorns and the sirens and the clamor of bells. It took my breath +away, and I wondered what was afoot. And on the shore I could see +that thousands of people waited, all crowded together by the water +side. There were flags flying, too, from all the buildings. + +"It must be that the King is coming in on a visit--and I never to +have heard of it!" I thought. + +And then they made me understand that it was all for me! + +If there were tears in my eyes when they made me believe that, will +you blame me? There was that great harbor, all alive with the welcome +they made for me. And on the shore, they told me, a hundred thousand +were waiting to greet me and bid me: + +"Welcome, Harry!" + +The tramways had stopped running until they had done with their +welcome to inc. And all over the city, as we drove to our hotel, they +roared their welcome, and there were flags along the way. + +That was the proudest day I ha d ever known. But one thing made me +wistful and wishful. I wanted my boy to be there with us. I wished he +had seen how they had greeted his Dad. Nothing pleased him more than +an honor that came to me. And here was an honor indeed--a reception +the like of which I had never seen. + + + +CHAPTER II + +It was on the twenty-ninth day of March, in that year of 1914 that +dawned in peace and happiness and set in blood and death and bitter +sorrow, that we landed in Sydney. Soon I went to work. Everywhere my +audiences showed me that that great and wonderful reception that had +been given to me on the day we landed had been only an earnest of +what was to come. They greeted me everywhere with cheers and tears, +and everywhere we made new friends, and sometimes found old ones of +whom we had not heard for years. + +And I was thinking all the time, now, of my boy. He was on his way. +He was on the Pacific. He was coming to me, across the ocean, and I +could smile as I thought of how this thing and that would strike +him, and of the smile that would light up his face now and the look +of joy that would come into his eyes at the sudden sighting of some +beautiful spot. Oh, aye--those were happy days When each one brought +my boy nearer to me. + +One day, I mind, the newspapers were full of the tale of a crime ill +an odd spot in Europe that none of us had ever heard of before. You +mind the place? Serajevo! Aye--we all mind it now! But then we read, +and wondered how that outlandish name might be pronounced. A +foreigner was murdered--what if he was a prince, the Archduke of +Austria? Need we lash ourselves about him? + +And so we read, and were sorry, a little, for the puir lady who sat +beside the Archduke and was killed with him. And then we forgot it. +All Australia did. There was no more in the newspapers. And my son +John was coming--coming. Each day he was so many hundred miles nearer +to me. And at last he came. We were in Melbourne then, it was near to +the end of July. + +We had much to talk about--son, and his mother and I. It was long +months since we had seen him, and we had seen and done so much. The +time flew by. Maybe we did not read the papers so carefully as we +might have done. They tell me, they have told me, since then, that in +Europe and even in America, there was some warning after Austria +moved on Serbia. But I believe that down there in Australia they did +not dream of danger; that they were far from understanding the +meaning of the news the papers did print. They were so far away! + +And then, you ken, it came upon us like a clap of thunder. One night +it began. There was war in Europe--real war. Germany had attacked +France and Russia. She was moving troops through Belgium. And every +Briton knew what that must mean. Would Britain be drawn in? There was +the question that was on every man's tongue. + +"What do you think, son?" I asked John. + +"I think we'll go in," he said. "And if we do, you know, Dad--they'll +send for me to come home at once. I'm on leave from the summer +training camp now to make this trip." + +My boy, two years before, had joined the Territorial army. He was a +second lieutenant in a Territorial battalion of the Argyle and +Sutherland Highlanders. It was much as if he had been an officer in a +National Guard regiment in the United States. The territorial army +was not bound to serve abroad--but who could doubt that it would, and +gladly. As it did--to a man, to a man. + +But it was a shock to me when John said that. I had not thought that +war, even if it came, could come home to us so close--and so soon. + +Yet so it was. The next day was the fourth of August--my birthday. +And it was that day that Britain declared war upon Germany. We sat at +lunch in the hotel at Melbourne when the newsboys began to cry the +extras. And we were still at lunch when the hall porter came in from +outside. + +"Leftenant Lauder!" he called, over and over. John beckoned to him, +and he handed my laddie a cablegram. + +Just two words there were, that had come singing along the wires half +way around the world. + +"Mobilize. Return." + +John's eyes were bright. They were shining. He was looking at us, but +he was not seeing us. Those eyes of his were seeing distant things. +My heart way sore within me, but I was proud and happy that it was +such a son I had to give my country. + +"What do you think, Dad?" he asked me, when I had read the order. + +I think I was gruff because I dared not let him see how I felt. His +mother was very pale. + +"This is no time for thinking, son," I said. "It is the time for +action. You know your duty." + +He rose from the table, quickly. + +"I'm off!" he said. + +"Where?" I asked him. + +"To the ticket office to see about changing my berth. There's a +steamer this week--maybe I can still find room aboard her." + +He was not long gone. He and his chum went down together and come +back smiling triumphantly. + +"It's all right, Dad," he told me. "I go to Adelaide by train and get +the steamer there. I'll have time to see you and mother off--your +steamer goes two hours before my train." + +We were going to New Zealand. And my boy was was going home to fight +for his country. They would call me too old, I knew--I was forty-four +the day Britain declared war. + +What a turmoil there was about us! So fast were things moving that +there seemed no time for thought, John's mother and I could not +realize the full meaning of all that was happening. But we knew that +John was snatched away from us just after he had come, and it was +hard--it was cruelly hard. + +But such thoughts were drowned in the great surging excitement that +was all about us. In Melbourne, and I believe it must have been much +the same elsewhere in Australia, folks didn't know what they were to +do, how they were to take this war that had come so suddenly upon +them. And rumors and questions flew in all directions. + +Suppose the Germans came to Australia? Was there a chance of that? +They had islands, naval bases, not so far away. They were Australia's +neighbors. What of the German navy? Was it out? Were there scattered +ships, here and there, that might swoop down upon Australia's shores +and bring death and destruction with them? + +But even before we sailed, next day, I could see that order was +coming out of that chaos. Everywhere recruiting offices were opening, +and men were flocking to them. No one dreamed, really, of a long +war--though John laughed, sadly, when someone said it would be over in +four months. But these Australians took no chances; they would offer +themselves first, and let it be decided later whether they were needed. + +So we sailed away. And when I took John's hand, and kissed him good-by, +I saw him for the last time in his civilian clothes. + +"Well, son," I said, "you're going home to be a soldier, a fighting +soldier. You will soon be commanding men. Remember that you can never +ask a man to do something you would no dare to do yourself!" + +And, oh, the braw look in the eyes of the bonnie laddie as he tilted +his chin up to me! + +"I will remember, Dad!" he said. + +And so long as a bit of the dock was in sight we could see him waving +to us. We were not to see him again until the next January, at Bedford, +in England, where he was training the raw men of his company. + +Those were the first days of war. The British navy was on guard. From +every quarter the whimpering wireless brought news of this German +warship and that. They were scattered far and wide, over the Seven +Seas, you ken, when the war broke out. There was no time for them to +make a home port. They had their choice, most of them, between being +interned in some neutral port and setting out to do as much mischief +as they could to British commerce before they were caught. Caught +they were sure to be. They must have known it. And some there were to +brave the issue and match themselves against England's great naval power. + +Perhaps they knew that few ports would long be neutral! Maybe they +knew of the abominable war the Hun was to wage. But I think it was +not such men as those who chose to take their one chance in a +thousand who were sent out, later, in their submarines, to send women +and babies a to their deaths with their torpedoes! + +Be that as it may, we sailed away from Melbourne. But it was in +Sydney Harbor that we anchored next--not in Wellington, as we, on the +ship, all thought it would be! And the reason was that the navy, +getting word that the German cruiser _Emden_ was loose and raiding, +had ordered our captain to hug the shore, and to put in at Sydney +until he was told it was safe to proceed. + +We were not much delayed, and came to Wellington safely. New Zealand +was all ablaze with the war spirit. There was no hesitation there. +The New Zealand troops were mobilizing when we arrived, and every +recruiting office was besieged with men. Splendid laddies they were, +who looked as if they would give a great account of themselves. As +they did--as they did. Their deeds at Gallipoli speak for them and +will forever speak for them--the men of Australia and New Zealand. + +There the word Anzac was made--made from the first letters of these +words: Australian New Zealand Army Corps. It is a word that will +never die. + +Even in the midst of war they had time to give me a welcome that +warmed my heart. And there were pipers with them, too, skirling a +tune as I stepped ashore. There were tears in my eyes again, as there +had been at Sydney. Every laddie in uniform made me think of my own +boy, well off, by now, on his way home to Britain and the duty that +had called him. + +They were gathering, all over the Empire, those of British blood. +They were answering the call old Britain had sent across the seven +seas to the far corners of the earth. Even as the Scottish clans +gathered of old the greater British clans were gathering now. It was +a great thing to see that in the beginning; it has comforted me many +a time since, in a black hour, when news was bad and the Hun was +thundering at the line that was so thinly held in France. + +Here were free peoples, not held, not bound, free to choose their +way. Britain could not make their sons come to her aid. If they came +they must come freely, joyously, knowing that it was a right cause, a +holy cause, a good cause, that called them. I think of the way they +came--of the way I saw them rising to the summons, in New Zealand, in +Australia, later in Canada. Aye, and I saw more--I saw Americans +slipping across the border, putting on Britain's khaki there in +Canada, because they knew that it was the fight of humanity, of +freedom, that they were entering. And that, too, gave me comfort +later in dark times, for it made me know that when the right time +came America would take her place beside old Britain and brave France. + +New Zealand is a bonnie land. It made me think, sometimes, of the +Hielands of Scotland. A bonnie land, and braw are its people. They +made me happy there, and they made much of me. + +At Christchurch they did a strange thing. They were selling off, at +auction, a Union Jack--the flag of Britain. Such a thing had never +been done before, or thought of. But here was a reason and a good +one. Money was needed for the laddies who were going--needed for all +sorts of things. To buy them small comforts, and tobacco, and such +things as the government might not be supplying them. And so they +asked me to be their auctioneer. + +I played a fine trick upon them there in Christchurch. But I was not +ashamed of myself, and I think they have forgi'en me--those good +bodies at Christchurch! + +Here was the way of it. I was auctioneer, you ken--but that was not +enough to keep me from bidding myself. And so I worked them up and +on--and then I bid in the flag for myself for a hundred pounds--five +hundred dollars of American money. + +I had my doots about how they'd be taking it to have a stranger carry +their flag away. And so I bided a wee. I stayed that night in +Christchurch, and was to stay longer. I could wait. Above yon town of +Christchurch stretch the Merino Hills. On them graze sheep by the +thousand--and it is from those sheep that the true Merino wool comes. +And in the gutters of Christchurch there flows, all day long, a +stream of water as clear and pure as ever you might hope to see. And +it should be so, for it is from artesian wells that it is pumped. + +Aweel, I bided that night and by next day they were murmuring in the +town, and their murmurs came to me. They thought it wasna richt for a +Scotsman to be carrying off their flag--though he'd bought it and +paid for it. And so at last they came to me, and wanted to be buying +back the flag. And I was agreeable. + +"Aye-I'll sell it back to ye!" I told them. "But at a price, ye ken-- +at a price! Pay me twice what I paid for it and it shall be yours!" + +There was a Scots bargain for you! They must have thought me mean and +grasping that day. But out they went. They worked for the money. It +was but just a month after war had been declared, and money was still +scarce and shy of peeping out and showing itself. But, bit by bit, they +got the siller. A shilling at a time they raised, by subscription. But +they got it all, and brought it to me, smiling the while. + +"Here, Harry--here's your money!" they said. "Now give us back our flag!" + +Back to them I gave it--and with it the money they had brought, to be +added to the fund for the soldier boys. And so that one flag brought +three hundred pounds sterling to the soldiers. I wonder did those +folk at Christchurch think I would keep the money and make a profit +on that flag? + +Had it been another time I'd have stayed in New Zealand gladly a long +time. It was a friendly place, and it gave us many a new friend. But +home was calling me. There was more than the homebound tour that had +been planned and laid out for me. I did not know how soon my boy +might be going to France. And his mother and I wanted to see him +again before he went, and to be as near him as might be. + +So I was glad as well as sorry to sail away from New Zealand's +friendly shores, to the strains of pipers softly skirling: + +"Will ye no come back again?" + +We sailed for Sydney on the _Minnehaha_, a fast boat. We were glad of +her speed a day or so out, for there was smoke on the horizon that +gave some anxious hours to our officers. Some thought the German +raider _Emden_ was under that smoke. And it would not have been +surprising had a raider turned up in our path. For just before we +sailed it had been discovered that the man in charge of the principal +wireless station in New Zealand was a German, and he had been +interned. Had he sent word to German warships of the plans and +movements of British ships? No one could prove it, so he was only +interned. + +Back we went to Sydney. A great change had come since our departure. +The war ruled all deed and thought. Australia was bound now to do her +part. No less faithfully and splendidly than New Zealand was she +engaged upon the enterprise the Hun had thrust upon the world. +Everyone was eager for news, but it was woefully scarce. Those were +the black, early days, when the German rush upon Paris was being +stayed, after the disasters of the first fortnight of the war, at the +Marne. + +Everywhere, though there was no lack of determination to see the war +through to a finish, no matter how remote that might be, the feeling +was that this war was too huge, too vast, to last long. Exhaustion +would end it. War upon the modern scale could not last. So they said +--in September, 1914! So many of us believed--and this is the spring +of the fourth year of the war, and the end is not yet, is not in +sight, I fear. + +Sydney turned out, almost as magnificently as when I had first landed +upon Australian soil, to bid me farewell. And we embarked again upon +that same old _Sonoma_ that had brought us to Australia. Again I saw +Paga-Paga and the natural folk, who had no need to toil nor spin to +live upon the fat of the land and be arrayed in the garments that +were always up to the minute in style. + +Again I saw Honolulu, and, this time, stayed longer, and gave a +performance. But, though we were there longer, it was not long enough +to make me yield to that temptation to cuddle one of the brown +lassies! Aweel, I was not so young as I had been, and Mrs. Lauder-- +you ken that she was travelling with me? + +In the harbor of Honolulu there was a German gunboat, the _Geier_, +that had run there for shelter not long since, and had still left a +day or two, under the orders from Washington, to decide whether she +would let herself be interned or not. And outside, beyond the three +mile limit that marked the end of American territorial waters, were +two good reasons to make the German think well of being interned. +They were two cruisers, squat and ugly and vicious in their gray war +paint, that watched the entrance to the harbor as you have seen a cat +watching a rat hole. + +It was not Britain's white ensign that they flew, those cruisers. It +was the red sun flag of Japan, one of Britain's allies against the +Hun. They had their vigil in vain, did those two cruisers. It was +valor's better part, discretion, that the German captain chose. +Aweel, you could no blame him! He and his ship would have been blown +out of the water so soon as she poked her nose beyond American +waters, had he chosen to go out and fight. + +I was glad indeed when we came in sight of the Golden Gate once more, +and when we were safe ashore in San Francisco. It had been a +nerve-racking voyage in many ways. My wife and I were torn with +anxiety about our boy. And there were German raiders loose; one or two +had, so far, eluded the cordon the British fleet had flung about the +world. One night, soon after we left Honolulu, we were stopped. We +thought it was a British cruiser that stopped us, but she would only +ask questions--answering those we asked was not for her! + +But we were ashore at last. There remained only the trip across the +United States to New York and the voyage across the Atlantic home. + + + +CHAPTER III + +Now indeed we began to get real news of the war. We heard of how that +little British army had flung itself into the maw of the Hun. I came +to know something of the glories of the retreat from Mons, and of how +French and British had turned together at the Marne and had saved +Paris. But, alas, I heard too of how many brave men had died--had +been sacrificed, many and many a man of them, to the failure of +Britain to prepare. + +That was past and done. What had been wrong was being mended now. +Better, indeed--ah, a thousand times better!--had Britain given heed +to Lord Roberts, when he preached the gospel of readiness and prayed +his countrymen to prepare for the war that he in his wisdom had +foreseen. But it was easier now to look into the future. + +I could see, as all the world was beginning to see, that this war was +not like other wars. Lord Kitchener had said that Britain must make +ready for a three year war, and I, for one, believed him when others +scoffed, and said he was talking so to make the recruits for his +armies come faster to the colors. I could see that this war might +last for years. And it was then, back in 1914, in the first winter of +the war, that I began to warn my friends in America that they might +well expect the Hun to drag them into the war before its end. And I +made up my mind that I must beg Americans who would listen to me to +prepare. + +So, all the way across the continent, I spoke, in every town we +visited, on that subject of preparedness. I had seen Britain, living +in just such a blissful anticipation of eternal peace as America then +dreamed of. I had heard, for years, every attempt that was made to +induce Britain to increase her army met with the one, unvarying reply. + +"We have our fleet!" That was the answer that was made. And, be it +remembered, that at sea, Britain _was_ prepared! "We have our fleet. +We need no army. If there is a Continental war, we may not be drawn +in at all. Even if we are, they can't reach us. The fleet is between +us and invasion." + +"But," said the advocates of preparedness, "we might have to send an +expeditionary force. If France were attacked, we should have to help +her on land as well as at sea. And we have sent armies to the +continent before." + +"Yes," the other would reply. "We have an expeditionary force. We can +send more than a hundred thousand men across the channel at short +notice--the shortest. And we can train more men here, at home, in +case of need. The fleet makes that possible." + +Aye, the fleet made that possible. The world may well thank God for +the British fleet. I do not know, and I do not like to think, what +might have come about save for the British fleet. But I do know what +came to that expeditionary force that we sent across the channel +quickly, to the help of our sore stricken ally, France. How many of +that old British army still survive? + +They gave themselves utterly. They were the pick and the flower of +our trained manhood. They should have trained the millions who were +to rise at Kitchener's call. But they could not be held back. They +are gone. Others have risen up to take their places--ten for one--a +hundred for one! But had they been ready at the start! The bonnie +laddies who would be living now, instead of lying in an unmarked +grave in France or Flanders! The women whose eyes would never have +been reddened by their weeping as they mourned a son or a brother or +a husband! + +So I was thinking as I set out to talk to my American friends and beg +them to prepare--prepare! I did not want to see this country share +the experience of Britain. If she needs must be drawn into the war-- +and so I believed, profoundly, from the time when I first learned the +true measure of the Hun--I hoped that she might be ready when she +drew her mighty sword. + +They thought I was mad, at first, many of those to whom I talked. +They were so far away from the war. And already the propaganda of the +Germans was at work. Aye, they thought I was raving when I told them +I'd stake my word on it. America would never be able to stay out +until the end. They listened to me. They were willing to do that. But +they listened, doubtingly. I think I convinced few of ought save that +I believed myself what I was saying. + +I could tell them, do you ken, that I'd thought, at first, as they +did! Why, over yon, in Australia, when I'd first heard that the +Germans were attacking France, I was sorry, for France is a bonnie +land. But the idea that Britain might go in I, even then, had laughed +at. And then Britain _had_ gone in! My own boy had gone to the war. +For all I knew I might be reading of him, any day, when I read of a +charge or a fight over there in France! Anything was possible--aye, +probable! + +I have never called myself a prophet. But then, I think, I had +something of a prophet's vision. And all the time I was struggling +with my growing belief that this was to be a long war, and a +merciless war. I did not want to believe some of the things I knew I +must believe. But every day came news that made conviction sink in +deeper and yet deeper. + +It was not a happy trip, that one across the United States. Our +friends did all they could to make it so, but we were consumed by too +many anxieties and cares. How different was it from my journey +westward--only nine months earlier! The world had changed forever in +those nine months. + +Everywhere I spoke for preparedness. I addressed the Rotary Clubs, +and great audiences turned out to listen to me. I am a Rotarian +myself, and I am proud indeed that I may so proclaim myself. It is a +great organization. Those who came to hear me were cordial, nearly +always. But once or twice I met hostility, veiled but not to be +mistaken. And it was easy to trace it to its source. Germans, who +loved the country they had left behind them to come to a New World +that offered them a better home and a richer life than they could +ever have aspired to at home, were often at the bottom of the +opposition to what I had to say. + +They did not want America to prepare, lest her weight be flung into +the scale against Germany. And there were those who hated Britain. +Some of these remembered old wars and grudges that sensible folk had +forgotten long since; others, it may be, had other motives. But there +was little real opposition to what I had to say. It was more a good +natured scoffing, and a feeling that I was cracked a wee bit, +perhaps, about the war. + +I was not sorry to see New York again. We stayed there but one day, +and then sailed for home on the Cunarder _Orduna_--which has since +been sunk, like many another good ship, by the Hun submarines. + +But those were the days just before the Hun began his career of real +frightfulness upon the sea--and under it. Even the Hun came gradually +to the height of his powers in this war. It was not until some weeks +later that he startled the world by proclaiming that every ship that +dared to cross a certain zone of the sea would be sunk without warning. + +When we sailed upon the old _Orduna_ we had anxieties, to be sure. +The danger of striking a mine was never absent, once we neared the +British coasts. There was always the chance, we knew, that some +German raider might have slipped through the cordon in the North Sea. +But the terrors that were to follow the crime of the _Lusitania_ still +lay in the future. They were among the things no man could foresee. + +The _Orduna_ brought us safe to the Mersey and we landed at Liverpool. +Even had there been no thought of danger to the ship, that voyage would +have been a hard one for us to endure. We never ceased thinking of John, +longing for him and news of him. It was near Christmas, but we had small +hope that we should be able to see him on that day. + +All through the voyage we were shut away from all news. The wireless +is silenced in time of war, save for such work as the government +allows. There is none of the free sending, from shore to ship, and +ship to ship, of all the news of the world, such as one grows to +welcome in time of peace. And so, from New York until we neared the +British coast, we brooded, all of us. How fared it with Britain in +the war? Had the Hun launched some new and terrible attack? + +[ILLUSTRATION: "I did not stop at sending out my recruiting band. I +went out myself.". (See Lauder02.jpg)] + +But two days out from home we saw a sight to make us glad and end our +brooding for a space. + +"Eh, Harry--come and look you!" someone called to me. It was early in +the morning, and there was a mist about us. + +I went to the rail and looked in the direction I was told. And there, +rising suddenly out of the mist, shattering it, I saw great, gray +ships--warships--British battleships and cruisers. There they were, +some of the great ships that are the steel wall around Britain that +holds her safe. My heart leaped with joy and pride at the sight of +them, those great, gray guardians of the British shores, bulwarks of +steel that fend all foemen from the rugged coast and the fair land +that lies behind it. + +Now we were safe, ourselves! Who would not trust the British navy, +after the great deeds it has done in this war? For there, mind you, +is the one force that has never failed. The British navy has done +what it set out to do. It has kept command of the seas. The +submarines? The tin fish? They do not command the sea! Have they kept +Canada's men, and America's, from reaching France? + +When we landed my first inquiry was for my son John. He was well, and +he was still in England, in training at Bedford with his regiment, +the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders. But it was as we had feared. +Our Christmas must be kept apart. And so the day before Christmas +found us back in our wee hoose on the Clyde, at Dunoon. But we +thought of little else but the laddie who was making ready to fight +for us, and of the day, that was coming soon, when we should see him. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +It was a fitting place to train men for war, Bedford, where John was +with his regiment, and where his mother and I went to see him so soon +as we could after Christmas. It is in the British midlands, but +before the factory towns begin. It is a pleasant, smiling country, +farming country, mostly, with good roads, and fields that gave the +boys chances to learn the work of digging trenches--aye, and living +in them afterward. + +Bedford is one of the great school towns of England. Low, rolling +hills lie about it; the river Ouse, a wee, quiet stream, runs through +it. Schooling must be in the air of Bedford! Three great schools for +boys are there, and two for girls. And Liberty is in the air of +Bedford, too, I think! John Bunyan was born two miles from Bedford, +and his old house still stands in Elstow, a little village of old +houses and great oaks. And it was in Bedford Jail that Bunyan was +imprisoned because he would fight for the freedom of his own soul. + +John was waiting to greet us, and he looked great. He had two stars +now where he had one before--he had been promoted to first +lieutenant. There were curious changes in the laddie I remembered. He +was bigger, I thought, and he looked older, and graver. But that I +could not wonder at. He had a great responsibility. The lives of +other men had been entrusted to him, and John was not the man to take +a responsibility like that lightly. + +I saw him the first day I was at Bedford, leading some of his men in +a practice charge. Big, braw laddies they were--all in their kilts. +He ran ahead of them, smiling as he saw me watching them, but turning +back to cheer them on if he thought they were not fast enough. I +could see as I watched him that he had caught the habit of command. +He was going to be a good officer. It was a proud thought for me, and +again I was rejoiced that it was such a son that I was able to offer +to my country. + +They were kept busy at that training camp. Men were needed sore in +France. Recruits were going over every day. What the retreat from +Mons and the Battle of the Marne had left of that first heroic +expeditionary force the first battle of Ypres had come close to +wiping out. In the Ypres salient our men out there were hanging on +like grim death. There was no time to spare at Bedford, where men +were being made ready as quickly as might be to take their turn in +the trenches. + +But there was a little time when John and I could talk. + +"What do you need most, son?" I asked him. + +"Men!" he cried. "Men, Dad, men! They're coming in quickly. Oh, +Britain has answered nobly to the call. But they're not coming in +fast enough. We must have more men--more men!" + +I had thought, when I asked my question, of something John might be +needing for himself, or for his men, mayhap. But when he answered me +so I said nothing. I only began to think. I wanted to go myself. But +I knew they would not have me--yet awhile, at any rate. And still I +felt that I must do something. I could not rest idle while all around +me men were giving themselves and all they had and were. + +Everywhere I heard the same cry that John had raised: + +"Men! Give us men!" + +It came from Lord Kitchener. It came from the men in command in +France and Belgium--that little strip of Belgium the Hun had not been +able to conquer. It came from every broken, maimed man who came back +home to Britain to be patched up that he might go out again. There +were scores of thousands of men in Britain who needed only the last +quick shove to send them across the line of enlistment. And after I +had thought a while I hit upon a plan. + +"What stirs a man's fighting spirit quicker or better than the right +sort of music?" I asked myself. "And what sort of music does it best +of all?" + +There can be only one answer to that last question! And so I +organized my recruiting band, that was to be famous all over Britain +before so very long. I gathered fourteen of the best pipers and +drummers I could find in all Scotland. I equipped them, gave them the +Highland uniform, and sent them out, to travel over Britain skirling +and drumming the wail of war through the length and breadth of the +land. They were to go everywhere, carrying the shrieking of the pipes +into the highways and the byways, and so they did. And I paid the bills. + +That was the first of many recruiting bands that toured Britain. +Because it was the first, and because of the way the pipers skirled +out the old hill melodies and songs of Scotland, enormous crowds +followed my band. And it led them straight to the recruiting +stations. There was a swing and a sway about those old tunes that the +young fellows couldn't resist. + +The pipers would begin to skirl and the drums to beat in a square, +maybe, or near the railway station. And every time the skirling of +the pipes would bring the crowd. Then the pipers would march, when +the crowd was big enough, and lead the way always to the recruiting +place. And once they were there the young fellows who weren't "quite +ready to decide" and the others who were just plain slackers, willing +to let better men die for them, found it mighty hard to keep from going +on the wee rest of the way that the pipers had left them to make alone! + +It was wonderful work my band did, and when the returns came to me I +felt like the Pied Piper! Yes I did, indeed! + +I did not travel with my band. That would have been a waste of +effort. There was work for both of us to do, separately. I was booked +for a tour of Britain, and everywhere I went I spoke, and urged the +young men to enlist. I made as many speeches as I could, in every +town and city that I visited, and I made special trips to many. I +thought, and there were those who agreed with me, that I could, it +might be, reach audiences another speaker, better trained than I, no +doubt, in this sort of work, would not touch. + +So there was I, without official standing, going about, urging every +man who could to don khaki. I talked wherever and whenever I could +get an audience together, and I began then the habit of making +speeches in the theatres, after my performance, that I have not yet +given up. I talked thus to the young men. + +"If you don't do your duty now," I told them, "you may live to be old +men. But even if you do, you will regret it! Yours will be a +sorrowful old age. In the years to come, mayhap, there'll be a wee +grandchild nestling on your knee that'll circle its little arms about +your neck and look into your wrinkled face, and ask you: + +"'How old are you, Grandpa? You're a very old man.' + +"How will you answer that bairn's question?" So I asked the young +men. And then I answered for them: "I don't know how old I am, but I +am so old that I can remember the great war." + +"And then"--I told them, the young men who were wavering--"and then +will come the question that you will always have to dread--when you +have won through to the old age that may be yours in safety if you +shirk now! For the bairn will ask you, straightaway: 'Did _you_ fight +in the great war, Grandpa? What did you do?' + +"God help the man," I told them, "who cannot hand it down as a +heritage to his children and his children's children that he fought +in the great war!" + +I must have impressed many a brave lad who wanted only a bit of +resolution to make him do his duty. They tell me that I and my band +together influenced more than twelve thousand men to join the colors; +they give me credit for that many, in one way and another. I am proud +of that. But I am prouder still of the way the boys who enlisted upon +my urging feel. Never a one has upbraided me; never a one has told me +he was sorry he had heard me and been led to go. + +It is far otherwise. The laddies who went because of me called me +their godfather, many of them! Many's the letter I have had from +them; many the one who has greeted me, as I was passing through a +hospital, or, long afterward, when I made my first tour in France, +behind the front line trenches. Many letters, did I say? I have had +hundreds--thousands! And not so much as a word of regret in any one +of them. + +It was not only in Britain that I influenced enlistments. I preached +the cause of the Empire in Canada, later. And here is a bit of verse +that a Canadian sergeant sent to me. He dedicated it to me, indeed, +and I am proud and glad that he did. + + "ONE OF THE BOYS WHO WENT" + + Say, here now, Mate, + Don't you figure it's great + To think when this war is all over; + When we're through with this mud, + And spilling o' blood, + And we're shipped back again to old Dover. + When they've paid us our tin, + And we've blown the lot in, + And our last penny is spent; + We'll still have a thought-- + If it's all that we've got-- + I'm one of the boys who went! + And perhaps later on + When your wild days are gone, + You'll be settling down for life, + You've a girl in your eye + You'll ask bye and bye + To share up with you as your wife. + When a few years have flown, + And you've kids of your own, + And you're feeling quite snug and content; + It'll make your heart glad + When they boast of their dad + As one of the boys who went! + +There was much work for me to do beside my share in the campaign to +increase enlistments. Every day now the wards of the hospitals were +filling up. Men suffering from frightful wounds came back to be +mended and made as near whole as might be. And among them there was +work for me, if ever the world held work for any man. + +I did not wait to begin my work in the hospitals. Everywhere I went, +where there were wounded men, I sang for those who were strong enough +to be allowed to listen, and told them stories, and did all I could +to cheer them up. It was heartrending work, oftentimes. There were +dour sights, dreadful sights in those hospitals. There were wounds +the memory of which robbed me of sleep. There were men doomed to +blindness for the rest of their lives. + +But over all there was a spirit that never lagged or faltered, and +that strengthened me when I thought some sight was more than I could +bear. It was the spirit of the British soldier, triumphant over +suffering and cruel disfigurement, with his inevitable answer to any +question as to how he was getting on. I never heard that answer +varied when a man could speak at all. Always it was the same. Two +words were enough. + +"All right!" + + + +CHAPTER V + +As I went about the country now, working hard to recruit men, to +induce people to subscribe to the war loan, doing all the things in +which I saw a chance to make myself useful, there was now an ever +present thought. When would John go out? He must go soon. I knew +that, so did his mother. We had learned that he would not be sent +without a chance to bid us good-by. There we were better off than +many a father and mother in the early days of the war. Many's the +mother who learned first that her lad had gone to France when they +told her he was dead. And many's the lassie who learned in the same +way that her lover would never come home to be her husband. + +But by now Britain was settled down to war. It was as if war were the +natural state of things, and everything was adjusted to war and those +who must fight it. And many things were ordered better and more +mercifully than they had been at first. + +It was in April that word came to us. We might see John again, his +mother and I, if we hurried to Bedford. And so we did. For once I +heeded no other call. It was a sad journey, but I was proud and glad +as well as sorry. John must do his share. There was no reason why my +son should take fewer risks than another man's. That was something +all Britain was learning in those days. We were one people. We must +fight as one; one for all--all for one. + +John was sober when he met us. Sober, aye! But what a light there was +in his eyes! He was eager to be at the Huns. Tales of their doings +were coming back to us now, faster and faster. They were tales to +shock me. But they were tales, too, to whet the courage and sharpen +the steel of every man who could fight and meant to go. + +It was John's turn to go. So it was he felt. And so it was his mother +and I bid him farewell, there at Bedford. We did not know whether we +would ever see him again, the bonnie laddie! We had to bid him good-by, +lest it be our last chance. For in Britain we knew, by then, what were +the chances they took, those boys of ours who went out. + +"Good-by, son--good luck!" + +"Good-by, Dad. See you when I get leave!" + +That was all. We were not allowed to know more than that he was +ordered to France. Whereabouts in the long trench line he would be +sent we were not told. "Somewhere in France." That phrase, that had +been dinned so often into our ears, had a meaning for us now. + +And now, indeed, our days and nights were anxious ones. The war was +in our house as it had never been before. I could think of nothing +but my boy. And yet, all the time I had to go on. I had to carry on, +as John was always bidding his men do. I had to appear daily before +my audiences, and laugh and sing, that I might make them laugh, and +so be better able to do their part. + +They had made me understand, my friends, by that time, that it was +really right for me to carry on with my own work. I had not thought +so at first. I had felt that it was wrong for me to be singing at +such a time. But they showed me that I was influencing thousands to +do their duty, in one way or another, and that I was helping to keep +up the spirit of Britain, too. + +"Never forget the part that plays, Harry," my friends told me. +"That's the thing the Hun can't understand. He thought the British +would be poor fighters because they went into action with a laugh. +But that's the thing that makes them invincible. You've your part to +do in keeping up that spirit." + +So I went on but it was with a heavy heart, oftentimes. John's +letters were not what made my heart heavy. There was good cheer in +everyone of them. He told us as much as the censor's rules would let +him of the front, and of conditions as he found them. They were still +bad--cruelly bad. But there was no word of complaint from John. + +The Germans still had the best of us in guns in those days, although +we were beginning to catch up with them. And they knew more about +making themselves comfortable in the trenches than did our boys. No +wonder! They spent years of planning and making ready for this war. +And it has not taken us so long, all things considered, to catch up +with them. + +John's letters were cheery and they came regularly, too, for a time. +But I suppose it was because they left out so much, because there was +so great a part of my boy's life that was hidden from me, that I +found myself thinking more and more of John as a wee bairn and as a +lad growing up. + +He was a real boy. He had the real boy's spirit of fun and mischief. +There was a story I had often told of him that came to my mind now. +We were living in Glasgow. One drizzly day, Mrs. Lauder kept John in +the house, and he spent the time standing at the parlor window +looking down on the street, apparently innocently interested in the +passing traffic. + +In Glasgow it is the custom for the coal dealers to go along the +streets with their lorries, crying their wares, much after the manner +of a vegetable peddler in America. If a housewife wants any coal, she +goes to the window when she hears the hail of the coal man, and holds +up a finger, or two fingers, according to the number of sacks of coal +she wants. + +To Mrs. Lauder's surprise, and finally to her great vexation, coal +men came tramping up our stairs every few minutes all afternoon, each +one staggering under the weight of a hundredweight sack of coal. She +had ordered no coal and she wanted no coal, but still the coal men +came--a veritable pest of them. + +They kept coming, too, until she discovered that little John was the +author of their grimy pilgrimages to our door. He was signalling +every passing lorrie from the window in the Glasgow coal code! + +I watched him from that window another day when he was quarreling +with a number of playmates in the street below. The quarrel finally +ended in a fight. John was giving one lad a pretty good pegging, when +the others decided that the battle was too much his way, and jumped +on him. + +John promptly executed a strategic retreat. He retreated with +considerable speed, too. I saw him running; I heard the patter of his +feet on our stairs, and a banging at our door. I opened it and +admitted a flushed, disheveled little warrior, and I heard the other +boys shouting up the stairs what they would do to him. + +By the time I got the door closed, and got back to our little parlor, +John was standing at the window, giving a marvelous pantomime for the +benefit of his enemies in the street. He was putting his small, +clenched fist now to his nose, and now to his jaw, to indicate to the +youngsters what he was going to do to them later on. + +Those, and a hundred other little incidents, were as fresh in my +memory as if they had only occurred yesterday. His mother and I +recalled them over and over again. From the day John was born, it +seems to me the only things that really interested me were the things +in which he was concerned. I used to tuck him in his crib at night. +The affairs of his babyhood were far more important to me than my own +personal affairs. + +I watched him grow and develop with enormous pride, and he took great +pride in me. That to me was far sweeter than praise from crowned +heads. Soon he was my constant companion. He was my business +confidant. More--he was my most intimate friend. + +There were no secrets between us. I think that John and I talked of +things that few fathers and sons have the courage to discuss. He +never feared to ask my advice on any subject, and I never feared to +give it to him. + +I wish you could have known my son as he was to me. I wish all +fathers could know their sons as I knew John. He was the most +brilliant conversationalist I have ever known. He was my ideal +musician. + +He took up music only as an accomplishment, however. He did not want +to be a performer, although he had amazing natural talent in that +direction. Music was born in him. He could transpose a melody in any +key. You could whistle an air for him, and he could turn it into a +little opera at once. + +However, he was anxious to make for himself in some other line of +endeavor, and while he was often my piano accompanist, he never had +any intention of going on the stage. + +When he was fifteen years old, I was commanded to appear before King +Edward, who was a guest at Rufford Abbey, the seat of Lord and Lady +Sayville, situated in a district called the Dukeries, and I took John +as my accompanist. + +I gave my usual performance, and while I was making my changes, John +played the piano. At the close, King Edward sent for me, and thanked +me. It was a proud moment for me, but a prouder moment came when the +King spoke of John's playing, and thanked him for his part in the +entertainment. + +There were curious contradictions, it often seemed to me, in John. +His uncle, Tom Vallance, was in his day, one of the very greatest +football players in Scotland. But John never greatly liked the game. +He thought it was too rough. He thought any game was a poor game in +which players were likely to be hurt. And yet--he had been eager for +the rough game of war! The roughest game of all! + +Ah, but that was not a game to him! He was not one of those who went +to war with a light heart, as they might have entered upon a football +match. All honor to those who went into the war so--they played a +great part and a noble part! But there were more who went to war as +my boy did--taking it upon themselves as a duty and a solemn +obligation. They had no illusions. They did not love war. No! John +hated war, and the black ugly horrors of it. But there were things he +hated more than he hated war. And one was a peace won through +submission to injustice. + +Have I told you how my boy looked? He was slender, but he was strong +and wiry. He was about five feet five inches tall; he topped his Dad +by a handspan. And he was the neatest boy you might ever have hoped +to see. Aye--but he did not inherit that from me! Indeed, he used to +reproach me, oftentimes, for being careless about my clothes. My +collar would be loose, perhaps, or my waistcoat would not fit just +so. He'd not like that, and he would tell me so! + +When he did that I would tell him of times when he was a wee boy, and +would come in from play with a dirty face; how his mother would order +him to wash, and how he would painstakingly mop off just enough of +his features to leave a dark ring abaft his cheeks, and above his +eyes, and below his chin. + +"You wash your face, but never let on to your neck," I would tell him +when he was a wee laddie. + +He had a habit then of parting and brushing about an inch of his +hair, leaving the rest all topsy-turvy. My recollection of that +boyhood habit served me as a defense in later years when he would +call my attention to my own disordered hair. + +I linger long, and I linger lovingly over these small details, +because they are part of my daily thoughts. Every day some little +incident comes up to remind me of my boy. A battered old hamper, in +which I carry my different character make-ups, stands in my dressing +room. It was John's favorite seat. Every time I look at it I have a +vision of a tiny wide-eyed boy perched on the lid, watching me make +ready for the stage. A lump rises, unbidden, in my throat. + +In all his life, I never had to admonish my son once. Not once. He +was the most considerate lad I have ever known. He was always +thinking of others. He was always doing for others. + +It was with such thoughts as these that John's mother and I filled in +the time between his letters. They came as if by a schedule. We knew +what post should bring one. And once or twice a letter was a post +late and our hearts were in our throats with fear. And then came a +day when there should have been a letter, and none came. The whole +day passed. I tried to comfort John's mother! I tried to believe +myself that it was no more than a mischance of the post. But it was +not that. + +We could do nought but wait. Ah, but the folks at home in Britain +know all too well those sinister breaks in the chains of letters from +the front! Such a break may mean nothing or anything. + +For us, news came quickly. But it was not a letter from John that +came to us. It was a telegram from the war office and it told us no +more than that our boy was wounded and in hospital. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"Wounded and in hospital!" + +That might have meant anything. And for a whole week that was all we +knew. To hope for word more definite until--and unless--John himself +could send us a message, appeared to be hopeless. Every effort we +made ended in failure. And, indeed, at such a time, private inquiries +could not well be made. The messages that had to do with the war and +with the business of the armies had to be dealt with first. + +But at last, after a week in which his mother and I almost went mad +with anxiety, there came a note from our laddie himself. He told us +not to fret--that all that ailed him was that his nose was split and +his wrist bashed up a bit! His mother looked at me and I at her. It +seemed bad enough to us! But he made light of his wounds--aye, and he +was right! When I thought of men I'd seen in hospitals--men with +wounds so frightful that they may not be told of--I rejoiced that +John had fared so well. + +And I hoped, too, that his wounds would bring him home to us--to +Blighty, as the Tommies were beginning to call Britain. But his +wounds were not serious enough for that and so soon as they were +healed, he went back to the trenches. + +"Don't worry about me," he wrote to us. "Lots of fellows out here +have been wounded five and six times, and don't think anything of it. +I'll be all right so long as I don't get knocked out." + +He didn't tell us then that it was the bursting of a shell that gave +him his first wounded stripe. But he wrote to us regularly again, and +there were scarcely any days in which a letter did not come either to +me or to his mother. When one of those breaks did come it was doubly +hard to bear now. + +For now we knew what it was to dread the sight of a telegraph +messenger. Few homes in Britain there are that do not share that +knowledge now. It is by telegraph, from the war office, that bad news +comes first. And so, with the memory of that first telegram that we +had had, matters were even worse, somehow, than they had been before. +For me the days and nights dragged by as if they would never pass. + +There was more news in John's letters now. We took some comfort from +that. I remember one in which he told his mother how good a bed he +had finally made for himself the night before. For some reason he was +without quarters--either a billet or a dug-out. He had to skirmish +around, for he did not care to sleep simply in Flanders mud. But at +last he found two handfuls of straw, and with them made his couch. + +"I got a good two hours' sleep," he wrote to his mother. "And I was +perfectly comfortable. I can tell you one thing, too, Mother. If I +ever get home after this experience, there'll be one in the house +who'll never grumble! This business puts the grumbling out of your +head. This is where the men are. This is where every man ought to be." + +In another letter he told us that nine of his men had been killed. + +"We buried them last night," he wrote, "just as the sun went down. It +was the first funeral I have ever attended. It was most impressive. +We carried the boys to one huge grave. The padre said a prayer, and +we lowered the boys into the ground, and we all sang a little hymn: +'Peace, Perfect Peace!' Then I called my men to attention again, and +we marched straight back into the trenches, each of us, I dare say, +wondering who would be the next." + +John was promoted for the second time in Flanders. He was a captain, +having got his step on the field of battle. Promotion came swiftly in +those days to those who proved themselves worthy. And all of the few +reports that came to us of John showed us that he was a good officer. +His men liked him, and trusted him, and would follow him anywhere. +And little more than that can be said of any officer. + +While Captain John Lauder was playing his part across the Channel, I +was still trying to do what I could at home. My band still travelled +up and down, the length and width of the United Kingdom, skirling and +drumming and drawing men by the score to the recruiting office. + +There was no more talk now of a short war. We knew what we were in +for now. + +But there was no thought or talk of anything save victory. Let the +war go on as long as it must--it could end only in one way. We had +been forced into the fight--but we were in, and we were in to stay. +John, writing from France, was no more determined than those at home. + +It was not very long before there came again a break in John's +letters. We were used to the days--far apart--that brought no word. +Not until the second day and the third day passed without a word, did +Mrs. Lauder and I confess our terrors and our anxiety to ourselves +and one another. This time our suspense was comparatively short-lived. +Word came that John was in hospital again--at the Duke of Westminster's +hospital at Le Toquet, in France. This time he was not wounded; he was +suffering from dysentery, fever and--a nervous breakdown. That was what +staggered his mother and me. A nervous breakdown! We could not reconcile +the John we knew with the idea that the words conveyed to us. He had +been high strung, to be sure, and sensitive. But never had he been the +sort of boy of whom to expect a breakdown so severe as this must be if +they had sent him to the hospital. + +We could only wait to hear from him, however. And it was several +weeks before he was strong enough to be able to write to us. There +was no hint of discouragement in what he wrote then. On the contrary, +he kept on trying to reassure us, and if he ever grew downhearted, he +made it his business to see that we did not suspect it. Here is one +of his letters--like most of them it was not about himself. + +"I had a sad experience yesterday," he wrote to me. "It was the first +day I was able to be out of bed, and I went over to a piano in a +corner against the wall, sat down, and began playing very softly, +more to myself than anything else. + +"One of the nurses came to me, and said a Captain Webster, of the +Gordon Highlanders, who lay on a bed in the same ward, wanted to +speak to me. She said he had asked who was playing, and she had told +him Captain Lauder--Harry Lauder's son. 'Oh,' he said, 'I know Harry +Lauder very well. Ask Captain Lauder to come here?' + +"This man had gone through ten operations in less than a week. I +thought perhaps my playing had disturbed him, but when I went to his +bedside, he grasped my hand, pressed it with what little strength he +had left, and thanked me. He asked me if I could play a hymn. He said +he would like to hear 'Lead, Kindly Light.' + +"So I went back to the piano and played it as softly and as gently as +I could. It was his last request. He died an hour later. I was very +glad I was able to soothe his last moments a little. I am very glad +now I learned the hymn at Sunday School as a boy." + +[ILLUSTRATION: "'Carry On!' were the last words of my boy, Captain +John Lauder, to his men, but he would mean them for me, too." (See +Lauder03.jpg)] + +Soon after we received that letter there came what we could not but +think great news. John was ordered home! He was invalided, to be +sure, and I warned his mother that she must be prepared for a shock +when she saw him. But no matter how ill he was, we would have our lad +with us for a space. And for that much British fathers and mothers +had learned to be grateful. + +I had warned John's mother, but it was I who was shocked when I saw +him first on the day he came back to our wee hoose at Dunoon. His +cheeks were sunken, his eyes very bright, as a man's are who has a +fever. He was weak and thin, and there was no blood in his cheeks. It +was a sight to wring one's heart to see the laddie so brought down-- +him who had looked so braw and strong the last time we had seen him. + +That had been when he was setting out for the wars, you ken! And now +he was back, sae thin and weak and pitiful as I had not seen him +since he had been a bairn in his mother's arms. + +Aweel, it was for us, his mother and I, and all the folks at home, to +mend him, and make him strong again. So he told us, for he had but +one thing on his mind--to get back to his men. + +"They'll be needing me, out there," he said. "They're needing men. I +must go back so soon as I can. Every man is needed there." + +"You'll be needing your strength back before you can be going back, +son," I told him. "If you fash and fret it will take you but so much +the longer to get back." + +He knew that. But he knew things I could not know, because I had not +seen them. He had seen things that he saw over and over again when he +tried to sleep. His nerves were shattered utterly. It grieved me sore +not to spend all my time with him but he would not hear of it. He +drove me back to my work. + +"You must work on, Dad, like every other Briton," he said. "Think of +the part you're playing. Why you're more use than any of us out +there--you're worth a brigade!" + +So I left him on the Clyde, and went on about my work. But I went +back to Dunoon as often as I could, as I got a day or a night to make +the journey. At first there was small change of progress. John would +come downstairs about the middle of the day, moving slowly and +painfully. And he was listless; there was no life in him; no +resiliency or spring. + +"How did you rest, son?" I would ask him. He always smiled when he +answered. + +"Oh, fairly well," he'd tell me. "I fought three or four battles +though, before I dropped off to sleep." + +He had come to the right place to be cured, though, and his mother +was the nurse he needed. It was quiet in the hills of the Clyde, and +there was rest and healing in the heather about Dunoon. Soon his +sleep became better and less troubled by dreams. He could eat more, +too, and they saw to it, at home, that he ate all they could stuff +into him. + +So it was a surprisingly short time, considering how bad he had +looked when he first came back to Dunoon, before he was in good +health and spirits again. There was a bonnie, wee lassie who was to +become Mrs. John Lauder ere so long--she helped our boy, too, to get +back his strength. + +Soon he was ordered from home. For a time he had only light duties +with the Home Reserve. Then he went to school. I laughed when he told +me he had been ordered to school, but he didna crack a smile. + +"You needn't be laughing," he said. "It's a bombing school I'm going +to now-a-days. If you're away from the front for a few weeks, you +find everything changed when you get back. Bombing is going to be +important." + +John did so well in the bombing school that he was made an instructor +and assigned, for a while, to teach others. But he was impatient to +be back with his own men, and they were clamoring for him. And so, on +September 16, 1916, his mother and I bade him good-by again, and he +went back to France and the men his heart was wrapped up in. + +"Yon's where the men are, Dad!" he said to me, just before he started. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +John's mother, his sweetheart and I all saw him off at Glasgow. The +fear was in all our hearts, and I think it must have been in all our +eyes, as well--the fear that every father and mother and sweetheart +in Britain shared with us in these days whenever they saw a boy off +for France and the trenches. Was it for the last time? Were we seeing +him now so strong and hale and hearty, only to have to go the rest of +our lives with no more than a memory of him to keep? + +Aweel, we could not be telling that! We could only hope and pray! And +we had learned again to pray, long since. I have wondered, often, and +Mrs. Lauder has wondered with me, what the fathers and mothers of +Britain would do in these black days without prayer to guide them and +sustain them. So we could but stand there, keeping back our tears and +our fears, and hoping for the best. One thing was sure; we might not +let the laddie see how close we were to greeting. It was for us to be +so brave as God would let us be. It was hard for him. He was no boy, +you ken, going blindly and gayly to a great adventure; he had need of +the finest courage and devotion a man could muster that day. + +For he knew fully now what it was that he was going back to. He knew +the hell the Huns had made of war, which had been bad enough, in all +conscience, before they did their part to make it worse. And he was +high strung. He could live over, and I make no doubt he did, in those +days after he had his orders to go back, every grim and dreadful +thing that was waiting for him out there. He had been through it all, +and he was going back. He had come out of the valley of the shadow, +and now he was to ride down into it again. + +And it was with a smile he left us! I shall never forget that. His +thought was all for us whom he was leaving behind. His care was for +us, lest we should worry too greatly and think too much of him. + +"I'll be all right," he told us. "You're not to fret about me, any of +you. A man does take his chances out there--but they're the chances +every man must take these days, if he's a man at all. I'd rather be +taking them than be safe at home." + +We did our best to match the laddie's spirit and be worthy of him. +But it was cruelly hard. We had lost him and found him again, and now +he was being taken from us for the second time. It was harder, much +harder, to see him go this second time than it had been at first, and +it had been hard enough then, and bad enough. But there was nothing +else for it. So much we knew. It was a thing ordered and inevitable. + +And it was not many days before we had slipped back into the way +things had been before John was invalided home. It is a strange thing +about life, the way that one can become used to things. So it was +with us. Strange things, terrible things, outrageous things, that, in +time of peace, we would never have dared so much as to think +possible, came to be the matters of every day for us. It was so with +John. We came to think of it as natural that he should be away from +us, and in peril of his life every minute of every hour. It was not +easier for us. Indeed, it was harder than it had been before, just as +it had been harder for us to say good-by the second time. But we +thought less often of the strangeness of it. We were really growing +used to the war, and it was less the monstrous, strange thing than it +had been in our daily lives. War had become our daily life and +portion in Britain. All who were not slackers were doing their part-- +every one. Man and woman and child were in it, making sacrifices. +Those happy days of peace lay far behind us, and we had lost our +touch with them and our memory of them was growing dim. We were all +in it. We had all to suffer alike, we were all in the same boat, we +mothers and fathers and sweethearts of Britain. And so it was easier +for us not to think too much and too often of our own griefs and +cares and anxieties. + +John's letters began to come again in a steady stream. He was as +careful as ever about writing. There was scarcely a day that did not +bring its letter to one of the three of us. And what bonnie, brave +letters they were! They were as cheerful and as bright as his first +letters had been. If John had bad hours and bad days out there he +would not let us know it. He told us what news there was, and he was +always cheerful and bright when he wrote. He let no hint of +discouragement creep into anything he wrote to us. He thought of +others first, always and all the time; of his men, and of us at home. +He was quite cured and well, he told us, and going back had done him +good instead of harm. He wrote to us that he felt as if he had come +home. He felt, you ken, that it was there, in France and in the +trenches, that men should feel at home in those days, and not safe in +Britain by their ain firesides. + +It was not easy for me to be cheerful and comfortable about him, +though. I had my work to do. I tried to do it as well as I could, for +I knew that that would please him. My band still went up and down the +country, getting recruits, and I was speaking, too, and urging men +myself to go out and join the lads who were fighting and dying for +them in France. They told me I was doing good work; that I was a +great force in the war. And I did, indeed, get many a word and many a +handshake from men who told me I had induced them to enlist. + +"I'm glad I heard you, Harry," man after man said to me. "You showed +me what I should be doing and I've been easier in my mind ever since +I put on the khaki!" + +I knew they'd never regret it, no matter what came to them. No man +will, that's done his duty. It's the slackers who couldn't or +wouldn't see their duty men should feel sorry for! It's not the lads +who gave everything and made the final sacrifice. + +It was hard for me to go on with my work of making folks laugh. It +had been growing harder steadily ever since I had come home from +America and that long voyage of mine to Australia and had seen what +war was and what it was doing to Britain. But I carried on, and did +the best I could. + +That winter I was in the big revue at the Shaftesbury Theatre, in +London, that was called "Three Cheers." It was one of the gay shows +that London liked because it gave some relief from the war and made +the Zeppelin raids that the Huns were beginning to make so often now +a little easier to bear. And it was a great place for the men who +were back from France. It was partly because of them that I could go +on as I did. We owed them all we could give them. And when they came +back from the mud and the grime and the dreariness of the trenches, +they needed something to cheer them up--needed the sort of production +we gave them. A man who has two days' leave in London does not want +to see a serious play or a problem drama, as a rule. He wants +something light, with lots of pretty girls and jolly tunes and people +to make him laugh. And we gave him that. The house was full of +officers and men, night after night. + +Soon word came from John that he was to have leave, just after +Christmas, that would bring him home for the New Year's holidays. His +mother went home to make things ready, for John was to be married +when he got his leave. I had my plans all made. I meant to build a +wee hoose for the two of them, near our own hoose at Dunoon, so that +we might be all together, even though my laddie was in a home of his +own. And I counted the hours and the days against the time when John +would be home again. + +While we were playing at the Shaftesbury I lived at an hotel in +Southampton Row called the Bonnington. But it was lonely for me +there. On New Year's Eve--it fell on a Sunday--Tom Vallance, my +brother-in-law, asked me to tea with him and his family in Clapham, +where he lived. That is a pleasant place, a suburb of London on the +southwest, and I was glad to go. And so I drove out with a friend of +mine, in a taxicab, and was glad to get out of the crowded part of +the city for a time. + +I did not feel right that day. Holiday times were bad, hard times for +me then. We had always made so much of Christmas, and here was the +third Christmas that our boy had been away. And so I was depressed. +And then, there had been no word for me from John for a day or two. I +was not worried, for I thought it likely that his mother or his +sweetheart had heard, and had not time yet to let me know. But, +whatever the reason, I was depressed and blue, and I could not enter +into the festive spirit that folk were trying to keep alive despite +the war. + +I must have been poor company during that ride to Clapham in the +taxicab. We scarcely exchanged a word, my friend and I. I did not +feel like talking, and he respected my mood, and kept quiet himself. +I felt, at last, that I ought to apologize to him. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me," I told him. "I simply don't +want to talk. I feel sad and lonely. I wonder if my boy is all right?" + +"Of course he is!" my friend told me. "Cheer up, Harry. This is a time +when no news is good news. If anything were wrong with him they'd let +you know." + +Well, I knew that, too. And I tried to cheer up, and feel better, so +that I would not spoil the pleasure of the others at Tom Vallance's +house. I tried to picture John as I thought he must be--well, and +happy, and smiling the old, familiar boyish smile I knew so well. I +had sent him a box of cigars only a few days before, and he would be +handing it around among his fellow officers. I knew that! But it was +no use. I could think of John, but it was only with sorrow and +longing. And I wondered if this same time in a year would see him +still out there, in the trenches. Would this war ever end? And so the +shadows still hung about me when we reached Tom's house. + +They made me very welcome, did Tom and all his family. They tried to +cheer me, and Tom did all he could to make me feel better, and to +reassure me. But I was still depressed when we left the house and +began the drive back to London. + +"It's the holiday--I'm out of gear with that, I'm thinking," I told +my friend. + +He was going to join two other friends, and, with them, to see the +New Year in in an old fashioned way, and he wanted me to join them. +But I did not feel up to it; I was not in the mood for anything of +the sort. + +"No, no, I'll go home and turn in," I told him. "I'm too dull tonight +to be good company." + +He hoped, as we all did, that this New Year that was coming would +bring victory and peace. Peace could not come without victory; we +were all agreed on that. But we all hoped that the New Year would +bring both--the new year of 1917. And so I left him at the corner of +Southhampton Row, and went back to my hotel alone. It was about +midnight, a little before, I think, when I got in, and one of the +porters had a message for me. + +"Sir Thomas Lipton rang you up," he said, "and wants you to speak +with him when you come in." + +I rang him up at home directly. + +"Happy New Year, when it comes, Harry!" he said. He spoke in the same +bluff, hearty way he always did. He fairly shouted in my ear. "When +did you hear from the boy? Are you and Mrs. Lauder well?" + +"Aye, fine," I told him. And I told him my last news of John. + +"Splendid!" he said. "Well, it was just to talk to you a minute that +I rang you up, Harry. Good-night--Happy New Year again." + +I went to bed then. But I did not go to sleep for a long time. It was +New Year's, and I lay thinking of my boy, and wondering what this +year would bring him. It was early in the morning before I slept. And +it seemed to me that I had scarce been asleep at all when there came +a pounding at the door, loud enough to rouse the heaviest sleeper +there ever was. + +My heart almost stopped. There must be something serious indeed for +them to be rousing me so early. I rushed to the door, and there was a +porter, holding out a telegram. I took it and tore it open. And I +knew why I had felt as I had the day before. I shall never forget +what I read: + +"Captain John Lauder killed in action, December 28. Official. +War Office." + +It had gone to Mrs. Lauder at Dunoon first, and she had sent it on to +me. That was all it said. I knew nothing of how my boy had died, or +where--save that it was for his country. + +But later I learned that when Sir Thomas Lipton had rung me up he had +intended to condole with me. He had heard on Saturday of my boy's +death. But when he spoke to me, and understood at once, from the tone +of my voice, that I did not know, he had not been able to go on. His +heart was too tender to make it possible for him to be the one to +give me that blow--the heaviest that ever befell me. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +It was on Monday morning, January the first, 1917, that I learned of +my boy's death. And he had been killed the Thursday before! He had +been dead four days before I knew it! And yet--I had known. Let no +one ever tell me again that there is nothing in presentiment. Why +else had I been so sad and uneasy in my mind? Why else, all through +that Sunday, had it been so impossible for me to take comfort in what +was said to cheer me? Some warning had come to me, some sense that +all was not well. + +Realization came to me slowly. I sat and stared at that slip of +paper, that had come to me like the breath of doom. Dead! Dead these +four days! I was never to see the light of his eyes again. I was +never to hear that laugh of his. I had looked on my boy for the last +time. Could it be true? Ah, I knew it was! And it was for this moment +that I had been waiting, that we had all been waiting, ever since we +had sent John away to fight for his country and do his part. I think +we had all felt that it must come. We had all known that it was too +much to hope that he should be one of those to be spared. + +The black despair that had been hovering over me for hours closed +down now and enveloped all my senses. Everything was unreal. For a +time I was quite numb. But then, as I began to realize and to +visualize what it was to mean in my life that my boy was dead there +came a great pain. The iron of realization slowly seared every word +of that curt telegram upon my heart. I said it to myself, over and +over again. And I whispered to myself, as my thoughts took form, over +and over, the one terrible word: "Dead!" + +I felt that for me everything had come to an end with the reading of +that dire message. It seemed to me that for me the board of life was +black and blank. For me there was no past and there could be no +future. Everything had been swept away, erased, by one sweep of the +hand of a cruel fate. Oh, there was a past, though! And it was in +that past that I began to delve. It was made up of every memory I had +of my boy. I fell at once to remembering him. I clutched at every +memory, as if I must grasp them and make sure of them, lest they be +taken from me as well as the hope of seeing him again that the +telegram had forever snatched away. + +I would have been destitute indeed then. It was as if I must fix in +my mind the way he had been wont to look, and recall to my ears every +tone of his voice, every trick of his speech. There was something +left of him that I must keep, I knew, even then, at all costs, if I +was to be able to bear his loss at all. + +There was a vision of him before my eyes. My bonnie Highland laddie, +brave and strong in his kilt and the uniform of his country, going +out to his death with a smile on his face. And there was another +vision that came up now, unbidden. It was a vision of him lying stark +and cold upon the battlefield, the mud on his uniform. And when I saw +that vision I was like a man gone mad and possessed of devils who had +stolen away his faculties. I cursed war as I saw that vision, and the +men who caused war. And when I thought of the Germans who had killed +my boy a terrible and savage hatred swept me, and I longed to go out +there and kill with my bare hands until I had avenged him or they had +killed me too. + +But then I was a little softened. I thought of his mother back in our +wee hoose at Dunoon. And the thought of her, bereft even as I was, +sorrowing, even as I was, and lost in her frightful loneliness, was +pitiful, so that I had but the one desire and wish--to go to her, and +join my tears with hers, that we who were left alone to bear our +grief might bear it together and give one to the other such comfort +as there might be in life for us. And so I fell upon my knees and +prayed, there in my lonely room in the hotel. I prayed to God that he +might give us both, John's mother and myself, strength to bear the +blow that had been dealt us and to endure the sacrifice that He and +our country had demanded of us. + +My friends came to me. They came rushing to me. Never did man have +better friends, and kindlier friends than mine proved themselves to +me on that day of sorrow. They did all that good men and women could +do. But there was no help for me in the ministration of friends. I +was beyond the power of human words to comfort or solace. I was glad +of their kindness, and the memory of it now is a precious one, and +one I would not be without. But at such a time I could not gain from +them what they were eager to give me. I could only bow my head and +pray for strength. + +That night, that New Year's night that I shall never forget, no +matter how long God may let me live, I went north. I took train from +London to Glasgow, and the next day I came to our wee hoose--a sad, +lonely wee hoose it had become now!--on the Clyde at Dunoon, and was +with John's mother. It was the place for me. It was there that I +wanted to be, and it was with her, who must hereafter be all the +world to me. And I was eager to be with her, too, who had given John +to me. Sore as my grief was, stricken as I was, I could comfort her +as no one else could hope to do, and she could do as much for me. We +belonged together. + +I can scarce remember, even for myself, what happened there at +Dunoon. I cannot tell you what I said or what I did, or what words +and what thoughts passed between John's mother and myself. But there +are some things that I do know and that I will tell you. + +Almighty God, to whom we prayed, was kind, and He was pitiful and +merciful. For presently He brought us both a sort of sad composure. +Presently He assuaged our grief a little, and gave us the strength +that we must have to meet the needs of life and the thought of going +on in a world that was darkened by the loss of the boy in whom all +our thoughts and all our hopes had been centred. I thanked God then, +and I thank God now, that I have never denied Him nor taken His name +in vain. + +For God gave me great thoughts about my boy and about his death. +Slowly, gradually, He made me to see things in their true light, and +He took away the sharp agony of my first grief and sorrow, and gave +me a sort of peace. + +John died in the most glorious cause, and he died the most glorious +death, it may be given to a man to die. He died for humanity. He died +for liberty, and that this world in which life must go on, no matter +how many die, may be a better world to live in. He died in a struggle +against the blackest force and the direst threat that has appeared +against liberty and humanity within the memory of man. And were he +alive now, and were he called again to-day to go out for the same +cause, knowing that he must meet death--as he did meet it--he would +go as smilingly and as willingly as he went then. He would go as a +British soldier and a British gentleman, to fight and die for his +King and his country. And I would bid him go. + +I have lived through much since his death. They have not let me take +a rifle or a sword and go into the trenches to avenge him. . . . But +of that I shall tell you later. + +Ah, it was not at once that I felt so! In my heart, in those early +days of grief and sorrow, there was rebellion, often and often. There +were moments when in my anguish I cried out, aloud: "Why? Why? Why +did they have to take John, my boy--my only child?" + +But God came to me, and slowly His peace entered my soul. And He made +me see, as in a vision, that some things that I had said and that I +had believed, were not so. He made me know, and I learned, straight +from Him, that our boy had not been taken from us forever as I had +said to myself so often since that telegram had come. + +He is gone from this life, but he is waiting for us beyond this life. +He is waiting beyond this life and this world of wicked war and +wanton cruelty and slaughter. And we shall come, some day, his mother +and I, to the place where he is waiting for us, and we shall all be +as happy there as we were on this earth in the happy days before the +war. + +My eyes will rest again upon his face. I will hear his fresh young +voice again as he sees me and cries out his greeting. I know what he +will say. He will spy me, and his voice will ring out as it used to +do. "Hello, Dad!" he will call, as he sees me. And I will feel the +grip of his young, strong arms about me, just as in the happy days +before that day that is of all the days of my life the most terrible +and the most hateful in my memory--the day when they told me that he +had been killed. + +That is my belief. That is the comfort that God has given me in my +grief and my sorrow. There is a God. Ah, yes, there is a God! Times +there are, I know, when some of those who look upon the horrid +slaughter of this war, that is going on, hour by hour, feel that +their faith is being shaken by doubts. They think of the sacrifices, +of the blood that is being poured out, of the sufferings of women and +children. And they see the cause that is wrong and foul prospering, +for a little time, and they cannot understand. + +"If there is a God," they whisper to themselves, "why does he permit +a thing so wicked to go on?" + +But there is a God--there is! I have seen the stark horror of war. I +know, as none can know until he has seen it at close quarters, what a +thing war is as it is fought to-day. And I believe as I do believe, +and as I shall believe until the end, because I know God's comfort +and His grace. I know that my boy is surely waiting for me. In +America, now, there are mothers and fathers by the scores of +thousands who have bidden their sons good-by; who water their letters +from France with their tears--who turn white at the sight of a telegram +and tremble at the sudden clamor of a telephone. Ah, I know--I know! +I suffered as they are suffering! And I have this to tell them and to +beg them. They must believe as I believe--then shall they find the +peace and the comfort that I have found. + +So it was that there, on the Clyde, John's mother and I came out of +the blackness of our first grief. We began to be able to talk to one +another. And every day we talked of John. We have never ceased to do +that, his mother and I. We never shall. We may not have him with us +bodily, but his spirit is never absent. And each day we remember some +new thing about him that one of us can call to the other's mind. And +it is as if, when we do that, we bring back some part of him out of +the void. + +Little, trifling memories of when he was a baby, and when he was a +boy, growing up! And other memories, of later days. Often and often +it was the days that were furthest away that we remembered best of +all, and things connected with those days. + +But I had small wish to see others. John's mother was enough for me. +She and the peace that was coming to me on the Clyde. I could not +bear to think of London. I had no plans to make. All that was over. +All that part of my life, I thought, had ended with the news of my +boy's death. I wanted no more than to stay at home on the Clyde and +think of him. My wife and I did not even talk about the future. And +no thing was further from all my thoughts than that I should ever +step upon a stage again. + +What! Go out before an audience and seek to make it laugh? Sing my +songs when my heart was broken? I did not decide not to do it. I did +not so much as think of it as a thing I had to decide about. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +And then one thing and another brought the thought into my mind, so +that I had to face it and tell people how I felt about it. There were +neighbors, wanting to know when I would be about my work again. That +it was that first made me understand that others did not feel as I +was feeling. + +"They're thinking I'll be going back to work again," I told John's +mother. "I canna'!" + +She felt as I did. We could not see, either one of us, in our grief, +how anyone could think that I could begin again where I had left off. + +"I canna'! I will not try!" I told her, again and again. "How can I +tak up again with that old mummery? How can I laugh when my heart is +breaking, and make others smile when the tears are in my eyes?" + +And she thought as I did, that I could not, and that no one should be +asking me. The war had taken much of what I had earned, in one way or +another. I was not so rich as I had been, but there was enough. There +was no need for me to go back to work, so far as our living was +concerned. And so it seemed to be settled between us. Planning we +left for the future. It was no time for us to be making plans. It +mattered little enough to us what might be in store for us. We could +take things as they might come. + +So we bided quiet in our home, and talked of John. And from every +part of the earth and from people in all walks and conditions of life +there began to pour in upon us letters and telegrams of sympathy and +sorrow. I think there were four thousand kindly folk who remembered +us in our sorrow, and let us know that they could think of us in +spite of all the other care and trouble that filled the world in +those days. Many celebrated names were signed to those letters and +telegrams, and there were many, too, from simple folk whose very +names I did not know, who told me that I had given them cheer and +courage from the stage, and so they felt that they were friends of +mine, and must let me know that they were sorry for the blow that had +befallen me. + +Then it came out that I meant to leave the stage. They sent word from +London, at last, to ask when they might look for me to be back at the +Shaftesbury Theatre. And when they found what it was in my mind to do +all my friends began to plead with me and argue with me. They said it +was my duty to myself to go back. + +"You're too young a man to retire, Harry," they said. "What would you +do? How could you pass away your time if you had no work to do? Men +who retire at your age are always sorry: They wither away and die of +dry rot." + +"There'll be plenty for me to be doing," I told them. "I'll not be +idle." + +But still they argued. I was not greatly moved. They were thinking of +me, and their arguments appealed to my selfish interests and needs, +and just then I was not thinking very much about myself. + +And then another sort of argument came to me. People wrote to me, men +and women, who, like me, had lost their sons. Their letters brought +the tears to my eyes anew. They were tender letters, and beautiful +letters, most of them, and letters to make proud and glad, as well as +sad, the heart of the man to whom they were written. I will not copy +those letters down here, for they were written for my eyes, and for +no others. But I can tell you the message that they all bore. + +"Don't desert us now, Harry!" It was so that they put it, one after +another, in those letters. "Ah, Harry--there is so much woe and grief +and pain in the world that you, who can, must do all that is in your +power to make them easier to bear! There are few forces enough in the +world to-day to make us happy, even for a little space. Come back to +us, Harry--make us laugh again!" + +It was when those letters came that, for the first time, I saw that I +had others to consider beside myself, and that it was not only my own +wishes that I might take into account. I talked to my wife, and I told +her of those letters, and there were tears in both our eyes as we +thought about those folks who knew the sorrow that was in our hearts. + +"You must think about them, Harry," she said. + +And so I did think about them. And then I began to find that there +were others still about whom I must think. There were three hundred +people in the cast of "Three Cheers," at the Shaftesbury Theatre, in +London. And I began to hear now that unless I went back the show +would be closed, and all of them would be out of work. At that season +of the year, in the theatrical world, it would be hard for them to +find other engagements, and they were not, most of them, like me, +able to live without the salaries from the show. They wrote to me, +many of them, and begged me to come back. And I knew that it was a +desperate time for anyone to be without employment. I had to think +about those poor souls. And I could not bear the thought that I might +be the means, however innocent, of bringing hardship and suffering +upon others. It might not be my fault, and yet it would lie always +upon my conscience. + +Yet, even with all such thoughts and prayers to move me, I did not +see how I could yield to them and go back. Even after I had come to +the point of being willing to go back if I could, I did not think I +could go through with it. I was afraid I would break down if I tried +to play my part. I talked to Tom Valiance, my brother-in-law. + +"It's very well to talk, Tom," I said. "But they'd ring the curtain +down on me! I can never do it!" + +"You must!" he said. "Harry, you must go back! It's your duty! What +would the boy be saying and having you do? Don't you remember, Harry? +John's last words to his men were--'Carry On!' That's what it is +they're asking you to do, too, Harry, and it's what John would have +wanted. It would be his wish." + +And I knew that he was right. Tom had found the one argument that +could really move me and make me see my duty as the others did. So I +gave in. I wired to the management that I would rejoin the cast of +"Three Cheers," and I took the train to London. And as I rode in the +train it seemed to me that the roar of the wheels made a refrain, and +I could hear them pounding out those two words, in my boy's voice: +"Carry On!" + +But how hard it was to face the thought of going before an audience +again! And especially in such circumstances. There were to be gayety +and life and light and sparkle all about me. There were to be +lassies, in their gay dresses, and the merriest music in London. And +my part was to be merry, too, and to make the great audience laugh +that I would see beyond the footlights. And I thought of the Merryman +in The Yeomen of the Guard, and that I must be a little like him, +though my cause for grief was different. + +But I had given my word, and though I longed, again and again, as I +rode toward London, and as the time drew near for my performance, to +back out, there was no way that I could do so. And Tom Valiance did +his best to cheer me and hearten me, and relieve my nervousness. I +have never been so nervous before. Not since I made my first +appearance before an audience have I been so near to stage fright. + +I would not see anyone that night, when I reached the theatre. I +stayed in my dressing-room, and Tom Valiance stayed with me, and kept +everyone who tried to speak with me away. There were good folk, and +kindly folk, friends of mine in the company, who wanted to shake my +hand and tell me how they felt for me, but he knew that it was better +for them not to see me yet, and he was my bodyguard. + +"It's no use, Tom," I said to him, again and again, after I was dressed +and in my make up. I was cold first, and then hot. And I trembled in +every limb. "They'll have to ring the curtain down on me." + +"You'll be all right, Harry," he said. "So soon as you're out there! +Remember, they're all your friends!" + +But he could not comfort me. I felt sure that it was a foolish thing +for me to try to do; that I could not go through with it. And I was +sorry, for the thousandth time, that I had let them persuade me to +make the effort. + +A call boy came at last to warn me that it was nearly time for my +first entrance. I went with Tom into the wings, and stood there, +waiting. I was pale under my make up, and I was shaking and trembling +like a baby. And even then I wanted to cry off. But I remembered my +boy, and those last words of his--"Carry On!" I must not fail him +without at least trying to do what he would have wanted me to do! + +My entrance was with a lilting little song called "I Love My Jean." +And I knew that in a moment my cue would be given, and I would hear +the music of that song beginning. I was as cold as if I had been in +an icy street, although it was hot. I thought of the two thousand +people who were waiting for me beyond the footlights--the house was a +big one, and it was packed full that night. + +"I can't, Tom--I can't!" I cried. + +But he only smiled, and gave me a little push as my cue came and the +music began. I could scarcely hear it; it was like music a great +distance off, coming very faintly to my ears. And I said a prayer, +inside. I asked God to be good to me once more, and to give me +strength, and to bear me through this ordeal that I was facing, as he +had borne me through before. And then I had to step into the full +glare of the great lights. + +I felt as if I were in a dream. The people were unreal--stretching +away from me in long, sloping rows, their white faces staring at me +from the darkness beyond the great lights. And there was a little +ripple that ran through them as I went out, as if a great many +people, all at the same moment, had caught their breath. + +I stood and faced them, and the music sounded in my ears. For just a +moment they were still. And then they were shaken by a mighty roar. +They cheered and cheered and cheered. They stood up and waved to me. +I could hear their voices rising, and cries coming to me, with my own +name among them. + +"Bravo, Harry!" I heard them call. And then there were more cheers, +and a great clapping of hands. And I have been told that everywhere +in that great audience men and women were crying, and that the tears +were rolling down their cheeks without ever an attempt by any of them +to hide them or to check them. It was the most wonderful and the most +beautiful demonstration I have ever seen, in all the years that I +have been upon the stage. Many and many a time audiences have been +good to me. They have clapped me and they have cheered me, but never +has an audience treated me as that one did. I had to use every bit of +strength and courage that I had to keep from breaking down. + +To this day I do not know how I got through with that first song that +night. I do not even know whether I really sang it. But I think that, +somehow, blindly, without knowing what I was doing, I did get +through; I did sing it to the end. Habit, the way that I was used to +it, I suppose, helped me to carry on. And when I left the stage the +whole company, it seemed to me, was waiting for me. They were crying +and laughing, hysterically, and they crowded around me, and kissed +me, and hugged me, and wrung my hand. + +It seemed that the worst of my ordeal was over. But in the last act I +had to face another test. + +There was a song for me in that last act that was the great song in +London that season. I have sung it all over America since then "The +Laddies Who Fought and Won." It has been successful everywhere--that +song has been one of the most popular I have ever sung. But it was a +cruel song for me to sing that night! + +It was the climax of the last act and of the whole piece. In "Three +Cheers" soldiers were brought on each night to be on the stage behind +me when I sang that song. They were from the battalion of the Scots +Guards in London, and they were real soldiers, in uniform. Different +men were used each night, and the money that was paid to the Tommies +for their work went into the company fund of the men who appeared, +and helped to provide them with comforts and luxuries. And the war +office was glad of the arrangement, too, for it was a great song to +stimulate recruiting. + +There were two lines in the refrain that I shall never forget. And it +was when I came to those two lines that night that I did, indeed, +break down. Here they are: + + "When we all gather round the old fireside + And the fond mother kisses her son--" + +Were they not cruel words for me to have to sing, who knew that his +mother could never kiss my son again? They brought it all back to me! +My son was gone--he would never come back with the laddies who had +fought and won! + +For a moment I could not go on. I was choking. The tears were in my +Eyes, and my throat was choked with sobs. But the music went on, and +the chorus took up the song, and between the singers and the orchestra +they covered the break my emotion had made. And in a little space I was +able to go on with the next verse, and to carry on until my part in the +show was done for the night. But I still wondered how it was that they +had not had to ring down the curtain upon me, and that Tom Valiance and +the others had been right and I the one that was wrong! + +Ah, weel, I learned that night what many and many another Briton had +learned, both at home and in France--that you can never know what you +can do until you have to find it out! Yon was the hardest task ever I +had to undertake, but for my boy's sake, and because they had made me +understand that it was what he would have wanted me to do, I got +through with it. + +They rose to me again, and cheered and cheered, after I had finished +singing "The Laddies Who Fought and Won." And there were those who +called to me for a speech, but so much I had to deny them, good +though they had been to me, and much as I loved them for the way they +had received me. I had no words that night to thank them, and I could +not have spoken from that stage had my life depended upon it. I could +only get through, after my poor fashion, with my part in the show. + +But the next night I did pull myself together, and I was able to say +a few words to the audience--thanks that were simply and badly put, +it may be, but that came from the bottom of my overflowing heart. + + + +CHAPTER X + +I had not believed it possible. But there I was, not only back at +work, back upon the stage to which I thought I had said good-by +forever, but successful as I had thought I could never be again. And +so I decided that I would remain until the engagement of "Three +Cheers" closed. But my mind was made up to retire after that +engagement. I felt that I had done all I could, and that it was time +for me to retire, and to cease trying to make others laugh. There was +no laughter in my heart, and often and often, that season, as I +cracked my merriest jokes, my heart was sore and heavy and the tears +were in my eyes. + +But slowly a new sort of courage came to me. I was able to meet my +friends again, and to talk to them, of myself and of my boy. I met +brother officers of his, and I heard tales of him that gave me a new +and even greater pride in him than I had known before. And my friends +begged me to carry on in every way. + +"You were doing a great work and a good work, Harry," they said. "The +boy would want you to carry on. Do not drop all the good you were doing." + +I knew that they were right. To sit alone and give way to my grief +was a selfish thing to do at such a time. If there was work for me to +do, still, it was my duty to try to do it, no matter how greatly I +would have preferred to rest quiet. At this time there was great need +of making the people of Britain understand the need of food +conservation, and so I began to go about London, making speeches on +that subject wherever people could be gathered together to listen to +me. They told me I did some good. And at least, I tried. + +And before long I was glad, indeed, that I had listened to the +counsel of my friends and had not given way to my selfish desire to +nurse my grief in solitude and silence. For I realized that there was +a real work for me to do. Those folk who had begged me to do my part +in lightening the gloom of Britain had been right. There was so much +sorrow and grief in the land that it was the duty of all who could +dispel it, if even for a little space, to do what they could. I +remembered that poem of Ella Wheeler Wilcox--"Laugh and the World +Laughs With You!" And so I tried to laugh, and to make the part of +the world that I chanced to be in laugh with me. For I knew there was +weeping and sorrowing enough. + +And all the time I felt that the spirit of my boy was with me, and +that he knew what I was doing, and why, and was glad, and that he +understood that if I laughed it was not because I thought less often +of him, or missed him less keenly and bitterly than I had done from +the very beginning. + +There was much praise for my work from high officials, and it made me +proud and glad to know that the men who were at the head of Britain's +effort in the war thought I was being of use. One time I spoke with +Mr. Balfour, the former Prime Minister, at Drury Lane Theatre to one +of the greatest war gatherings that was ever held in London. + +And always and everywhere there were the hospitals, full of the +laddies who had been brought home from France. Ah, but they were +pitiful, those laddies who had fought, and won, and been brought back +to be nursed back to the life they had been so bravely willing to lay +down for their country! But it was hard to look at them, and know how +they were suffering, and to go through with the task I had set myself +of cheering them and comforting them in my own way! There were times +when it was all I could do to get through with my program. + +They never complained. They were always bright and cheerful, no +matter how terrible their wounds might be; no matter what sacrifices +they had made of eyes and limbs. There were men in those hospitals +who knew that they were going out no more than half the men they had +been. And yet they were as brave and careless of themselves as if +their wounds had been but trifles. I think the greatest exhibition of +courage and nerve the world has ever seen was to be found in those +hospitals in London and, indeed, all over Britain, where those +wonderful lads kept up their spirits always, though they knew they +could never again be sound in body. + +Many and many of them there were who knew that they could never walk +again the shady lanes of their hameland or the little streets of +their hame towns! Many and many more there were who knew that, even +after the bandages were taken from about their eyes, they would never +gaze again upon the trees and the grass and the flowers growing upon +their native hillsides; that never again could they look upon the +faces of their loved ones. They knew that everlasting darkness was +their portion upon this earth. + +But one and all they talked and laughed and sang! And it was there +among the hospitals, that I came to find true courage and good cheer. +It was not there that I found talk of discouragement, and longing for +any early peace, even though the final victory that could alone bring +a real peace and a worthy peace had not been won. No--not in the +hospitals could I find and hear such talk as that! For that I had to +listen to those who had not gone--who had not had the courage and the +nerve to offer all they had and all they were and go through that +hell of hells that is modern war! + +I saw other hospitals besides the ones in London. After a time, when +I was very tired, and far from well, I went to Scotland for a space +to build myself up and get some rest. And in the far north I went +fishing on the River Dee, which runs through the Durrie estate. And +while I was there the Laird heard of it. And he sent word to tell me +of a tiny hospital hard by where a guid lady named Mrs. Baird was +helping to nurse disabled men back to health and strength. He asked +me would I no call upon the men and try to give them a little cheer. +And I was glad to hear of the chance to help. + +I laid down my rod forthwith, for here was better work than fishing-- +and in my ain country. They told me the way that I should go, and +that this Mrs. Baird had turned a little school house into a +convalescent home, and was doing a fine and wonderful work for the +laddies she had taken in. So I set out to find it, and I walked along +a country road to come to it. + +Soon I saw a man, strong and hale, as it seemed, pushing a wheel +chair along the road toward me. And in the chair sat a man, and I +could see at once that he had lost the use of his legs--that he was +paralyzed from the waist down. It was the way he called to him who +was pushing him that made me tak notice. + +"Go to the right, mon!" he would call. Or, a moment later, "To the +left now." + +And then they came near to the disaster. The one who was pushing was +heading straight for the side of the road, and the one in the chair +bellowed out to him: + +"Whoa there!" he called. "Mon--ye're taking me into the ditch! Where +would ye be going with me, anyway?" + +And then I understood. The man who was pushing was blind! They had +but the one pair of eyes and the one pair of legs between the two of +them, and it was so that they contrived to go out together without +taking help from anyone else! And they were both as cheerful as wee +laddies out for a lark. It was great sport for them. And it was they +who gave me my directions to get to Mrs. Baird's. + +They disputed a little about the way. The blind man, puir laddie, +thought he knew. And he did not--not quite. But he corrected the man +who could see but could not walk. + +"It's the wrong road you're giving the gentleman," he said. "It's the +second turn he should be taking, not the first." + +And the other would not argue with him. It was a kindly thing, the +way he kept quiet, and did but wink at me, that I might know the +truth. He trusted me to understand and to know why he was acting as +he was, and I blessed him in my heart for his thoughtfulness. And so +I thanked them, and passed on, and reached Mrs. Baird's, and found a +royal welcome there, and when they asked me if I would sing for the +soldiers, and I said it was for that that I had come, there were +tears in Mrs. Baird's eyes. And so I gave a wee concert there, and +sang my songs, and did my best to cheer up those boys. + +Ah, my puir, brave Scotland--my bonnie little Scotland! + +No part of all the United Kingdom, and, for that matter, no part of +the world, has played a greater part, in proportion to its size and +its ability, than has Scotland in this war for humanity against the +black force that has attacked it. Nearly a million men has Scotland +sent to the army--out of a total population of five million! One in +five of all her people have gone. No country in the world has ever +matched that record. Ah, there were no slackers in Scotland! And they +are still going--they are still going! As fast as they are old +enough, as fast as restrictions are removed, so that men are taken +who were turned back at first by the recruiting officers, as fast as +men see to it that some provision is made for those they must leave +behind them, they are putting on the King's uniform and going out +against the Hun. My country, my ain Scotland, is not great in area. +It is not a rich country in worldly goods or money. But it is big +with a bigness beyond measurement, it is rich beyond the wildest +dreams of avarice, in patriotism, in love of country, and in bravery. + +We have few young men left in Scotland. It is rarely indeed that in a +Scottish village, in a glen, even in a city, you see a young man in +these days. Only the very old are left, and the men of middle age. +And you know why the young men you see are there. They cannot go, +because, although their spirit is willing their flesh is too weak to +let them go, for one reason or another. Factory and field and forge-- +all have been stripped to fill the Scottish regiments and keep them +at their full strength. And in Scotland, as in England, women have +stepped in to fill the places their men have left vacant. This war is +not to be fought by men alone. Women have their part to play, and +they are playing it nobly, day after day. The women of Scotland have +seen their duty; they have heard their country's call, and they have +answered it. + +You will find it hard to discover anyone in domestic service to-day +in Scotland. The folk who used to keep servants sent them packing +long since, to work where they would be of more use to their country. +The women of each household are doing the work about the house, +little though they may have been accustomed to such tasks in the days +of peace. And they glory and take pride in the knowledge that they +are helping to fill a place in the munitions factories or in some +other necessary war work. + +[ILLUSTRATION: "Bang! went sixpence." HARRY LAUDER BUYING HIS BIT OF +WHITE HEATHER (See Lauder04.jpg)] + +Do not look along the Scottish roads for folk riding in motor cars +for pleasure. Indeed, you will waste your time if you look for +pleasure-making of any sort in Scotland to-day. Scotland has gone +back to her ancient business of war, and she is carrying it on in the +most businesslike way, sternly and relentlessly. But that is true all +over the United Kingdom; I do not claim that Scotland takes the war +more seriously than the rest of Britain. But I do think that she has +set an example by the way she has flung herself, tooth and nail, into +the mighty task that confronts us all--all of us allies who are +leagued against the Hun and his plan to conquer the world and make it +bow its neck in submission under his iron heel. + +Let me tell you how Scotland takes this war. Let me show you the +homecoming of a Scottish soldier, back from the trenches on leave. +Why, he is received with no more ceremony than if he were coming home +from his day's work! + +Donald--or Jock might be his name, or Andy!--steps from the train at +his old hame town. He is fresh from the mud of the Flanders trenches, +and all his possessions and his kit are on his back, so that he is +more like a beast of burden than the natty creature old tradition +taught us to think a soldier must always be. On his boots there are +still dried blobs of mud from some hole in France that is like a +crater in hell. His uniform will be pretty sure to be dirty, too, and +torn, and perhaps, if you looked closely at it, you would see stains +upon it that you might not be far wrong in guessing to be blood. + +Leave long enough to let him come home to Scotland--a long road it is +from France to Scotland these days!--has been a rare thing for Jock. +He will have been campaigning a long time to earn it--months +certainly, and maybe even years. Perhaps he was one of these who went +out first. He may have been mentioned in dispatches: there may be a +distinguished conduct medal hidden about him somewhere--worth all the +iron crosses the Kaiser ever gave! He has seen many a bloody field, +be sure of that. He has heard the sounding of the gas alarm, and +maybe got a whiff of the dirty poison gas the Huns turned loose +against our boys. He has looked Death in the face so often that he +has grown used to him. But now he is back in Scotland, safe and +sound, free from battle and the work of the trenches for a space, +home to gain new strength for his next bout with Fritz across the +water. + +When he gets off the train Jock looks about him, from force of habit. +But no one has come to the station to meet him, and he looks as if +that gave him neither surprise nor concern. For a minute, perhaps, he +will look around him, wondering, I think, that things are so much as +they were, fixing in his mind the old familiar scenes that have +brought him cheer so often in black, deadly nights in the trenches or +in lonely billets out there in France. And then, quietly, and as if +he were indeed just home from some short trip, he shifts his pack, so +that it lies comfortably across his back, and trudges off. There +would be cabs around the station, but it would not come into Jock's +mind to hail one of the drivers. He has been used to using Shank's +Mare in France when he wanted to go anywhere, and so now he sets off +quietly, with his long, swinging soldier's stride. + +As he walks along he is among scenes familiar to him since his +boyhood. You house, you barn, yon wooded rise against the sky are +landmarks for him. And he is pretty sure to meet old friends. They +nod to him, pleasantly, and with a smile, but there is no excitement, +no strangeness, in their greeting. For all the emotion they show, +these folk to whom he has come back, as from the grave, they might +have seen him yesterday, and the day before that, and the war never +have been at all. And Jock thinks nothing of it that they are not +more excited about him. You and I may be thinking of Jock as a hero, +but that is not his idea about himself. He is just a Tommy, home on +leave from France--one of a hundred thousand, maybe. And if he +thought at all about the way his home folk greeted him it would be +just so--that he could not expect them to be making a fuss about one +soldier out of so many. And, since he, Jock, is not much excited, not +much worked up, because he is seeing these good folk again, he does +not think it strange that they are not more excited about the sight +of him. It would be if they did make a fuss over him, and welcome him +loudly, that he would think it strange! + +And at last he comes to his own old home. He will stop and look +around a bit. Maybe he has seen that old house a thousand times out +there, tried to remember every line and corner of it. And maybe, as +he looks down the quiet village street, he is thinking of how +different France was. And, deep down in his heart, Jock is glad that +everything is as it was, and that nothing has been changed. He could +not tell you why; he could not put his feeling into words. But it is +there, deep down, and the truer and the keener because it is so deep. +Ah, Jock may take it quietly, and there may be no way for him to show +his heart, but he is glad to be home! + +And at his gate will come, as a rule, Jock's first real greeting. A +dog, grown old since his departure, will come out, wagging his tail, +and licking the soldier's hand. And Jock will lean down, and give his +old dog a pat. If the dog had not come he would have been surprised +and disappointed. And so, glad with every fibre of his being, Jock +goes in, and finds father and mother and sisters within. They look up +at his coming, and their happiness shines for a moment in their eyes. +But they are not the sort of people to show their emotions or make a +fuss. Mother and girls will rise and kiss him, and begin to take his +gear, and his father will shake him by the hand. + +"Well," the father will ask, "how are you getting along, lad?" + +And--"All right," he will answer. That is the British soldier's +answer to that question, always and everywhere. + +Then he sits down, happy and at rest, and lights his pipe, maybe, and +looks about the old room which holds so many memories for him. And +supper will be ready, you may be sure. They will not have much to +say, these folk of Jock's, but if you look at his face as dish after +dish is set before him, you will understand that this is a feast that +has been prepared for him. They may have been going without all sorts +of good things themselves, but they have contrived, in some fashion, +to have them all for Jock. All Scotland has tightened its belt, and +done its part, in that fashion, as in every other, toward the winning +of the war. But for the soldiers the best is none too good. And +Jock's folk would rather make him welcome so, by proof that takes no +words, than by demonstrations of delight and of affection. + +As he eats, they gather round him at the board, and they tell him all +the gossip of the neighborhood. He does not talk about the war, and, +if they are curious--probably they are not!--they do not ask him +questions. They think that he wants to forget about the war and the +trenches and the mud, and they are right. And so, after he has eaten +his fill, he lights his pipe again, and sits about. And maybe, as it +grows dark, he takes a bit walk into town. He walks slowly, as if he +is glad that for once he need not be in a hurry, and he stops to look +into shop windows as if he had never seen their stocks before, though +you may be sure that, in a Scottish village, he has seen everything +they have to offer hundreds of times. + +He will meet friends, maybe, and they will stop and nod to him. And +perhaps one of six will stop longer. + +"How are you getting on, Jock?" will be the question. + +"All right!" Jock will say. And he will think the question rather +fatuous, maybe. If he were not all right, how should he be there? But +if Jock had lost both legs, or an arm, or if he had been blinded, +that would still be his answer. Those words have become a sort of +slogan for the British army, that typify its spirit. + +Jock's walk is soon over, and he goes home, by an old path that is +known to him, every foot of it, and goes to bed in his own old bed. +He has not broken into the routine of the household, and he sees no +reason why he should. And the next day it is much the same for him. +He gets up as early as he ever did, and he is likely to do a few odd +bits of work that his father has not had time to come to. He talks +with his mother and the girls of all sorts of little, commonplace +things, and with his father he discusses the affairs of the +community. And in the evening he strolls down town again, and +exchanges a few words with friends, and learns, perhaps, of boys who +haven't been lucky enough to get home on leave--of boys with whom he +grew up, who have gone west. + +So it goes on for several days, each day the same. Jock is quietly +happy. It is no task to entertain him: he does not want to be +entertained. The peace and quiet of home are enough for him; they are +change enough from the turmoil of the front and the ceaseless grind +of the life in the army in France. + +And then Jock's leave nears its end, and it is time for him to go +back. He tells them, and he makes his few small preparations. They +will have cleaned his kit for him, and mended some of his things that +needed mending. And when it is time for him to go they help him on +with his pack and he kisses his mother and the girls good-by, and +shakes hands with his father. + +"Well, good-by," Jock says. He might be going to work in a factory a +few miles off. "I'll be all right. Good-by, now. Don't you cry, now, +mother, and you, Jeannie and Maggie. Don't you fash yourselves about +me. I'll be back again. And if I shouldn't come back--why, I'll be +all right." + +So he goes, and they stand looking after him, and his old dog wonders +why he is going, and where, and makes a move to follow him, maybe. +But he marches off down the street, alone, never looking back, and is +waiting when the train comes. It will be full of other Jocks and +Andrews and Tams, on their way back to France, like him, and he will +nod to some he knows as he settles down in the carriage. + +And in just two days Jock will have traveled the length of England, +and crossed the channel, and ridden up to the front. He will have +reported himself, and have been ordered, with his company, into the +trenches. And on the third night, had you followed him, you might see +him peering over the parapet at the lines of the Hun, across No Man's +Land, and listening to the whine of bullets and the shriek of shells +over his head, with a star shell, maybe, to throw a green light upon +him for a moment. + +So it is that a warrior comes and that a warrior goes in a land where +war is war; in a land where war has become the business of all every +day, and has settled down into a matter of routine. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +I could not, much as I should in many ways have liked to do so, +prolong my stay in Scotland. The peace and the restfulness of the +Highlands, the charm of the heather and the hills, the long, lazy +days with my rod, whipping some favorite stream--ah, they made me +happy for a moment, but they could not make me forget! My duty called +me back, and the thought of war, and suffering, and there were +moments when it seemed to me that nothing could keep me from plunging +again into the work I had set out to do. + +In those days I was far too restless to be taking my ease at home, in +my wee hoose at Dunoon. A thousand activities called me. The rest had +been necessary; I had had to admit that, and to obey my doctor, for I +had been feeling the strain of my long continued activity, piled up, +as it was, on top of my grief and care. And yet I was eager to be off +and about my work again. + +I did not want to go back to the same work I had been doing. No! I +was still a young man. I was younger than men and officers who were +taking their turn in the trenches. I was but forty-six years old, and +there was a lot of life and snap in the old dog yet! My life had been +rightly lived. As a young man I had worked in a pit, ye ken, and that +had given me a strength in my back and my legs that would have served +me well in the trenches. War, these days, means hard work as well as +fighting--more, indeed. War is a business, a great industry, now. +There is all manner of work that must be done at the front and right +behind it. Aye, and I was eager to be there and to be doing my share +of it--and not for the first time. + +Many a time, and often, I had broached my idea of being allowed to +enlist, e'en before the Huns killed my boy. But they would no listen +to me. They told me, each time, that there was more and better work +for me to do at hame in Britain, spurring others on, cheering them +when they came back maimed and broken, getting the country to put its +shoulder to the wheel when it came to subscribing to the war loans +and all the rest of it. And it seemed to me that it was not for me to +decide; that I must obey those who were better in a position to judge +than I could be. + +I went down south to England, and I talked again of enlisting and +trying to get a crack at those who had killed my boy. And again my +friends refused to listen to me. + +"Why, Harry," they said to me--and not my own friends, only, but men +highly placed enough to make me know that I must pay heed to what +they said--"you must not think of it! If you enlisted, or if we got +you a commission, you'd be but one man out there. Here you're worth +many men--a brigade, or a division, maybe. You are more use to us +than many men who go out there to fight. You do great things toward +winning the war every day. No, Harry, there is work for every man in +Britain to do, and you have found yours and are doing it." + +I was not content, though, even when I seemed to agree with them. I +did try to argue, but it was no use. And still I felt that it was no +time for a man to be playing and to be giving so much of his time to +making others gay. It was well for folk to laugh, and to get their +minds off the horror of war for a little time. Well I knew! Aye, and +I believed that I was doing good, some good at least, and giving +cheer to some puir laddies who needed it sorely. But--weel, it was no +what I wanted to be doing when my country was fighting for her life! +I made up my mind, slowly, what it was that I wanted to do that would +fit in with the ideas and wishes of those whose word I was bound to +heed and that would still come closer than what I was doing to meet +my own desires. + +Every day, nearly, then, I was getting letters from the front. They +came from laddies whom I'd helped to make up their minds that they +belonged over yon, where the men were. Some were from boys who came +from aboot Dunoon. I'd known those laddies since they were bits o' +bairns, most of them. And then there were letters--and they touched +me as much and came as close home as any of them--from boys who were +utter strangers to me, but who told me they felt they knew me because +they'd seen me on the stage, or because their phonograph, maybe, +played some of my records, and because they'd read that my boy had +shared their dangers and given his life, as they were ready, one and +all, to do. + +And those letters, nearly all, had the same refrain. They wanted me. +They wanted me to come to them, since they couldn't be coming to me. + +"Come on out here and see us and sing for us, Harry," they'd write to +me. "It'd be a fair treat to see your mug and hear you singing about +the wee hoose amang the heather or the bonnie, bonnie lassie!" + +How could a man get such a plea as that and not want to do what those +laddies asked? How could he think of the great deal they were doing +and not want to do the little bit they asked of him? But it was no a +simple matter, ye'll ken! I could not pack a bag and start for France +from Charing Cross or Victoria as I might have done--and often did-- +before the war. No one might go to France unless he had passports and +leave from the war office, and many another sort of arrangement there +was to make. But I set wheels in motion. + +Just to go to France to sing for the boys would have been easy +enough. They told me that at once. + +"What? Harry Lauder wants to go to France to sing for the soldiers? +He shall--whenever he pleases! Tell him we'll be glad to send him!" + +So said the war office. But I knew what they meant. They meant for me +to go to one or more of the British bases and give concerts. There +were troops moving in and out of the bases all the time; men who'd +been in the trenches or in action in an offensive and were back in +rest billets, or even further back, were there in their thousands. +But it was the real front I was eager to reach. I wanted to be where +my boy had been, and to see his grave. I wanted to sing for the +laddies who were bearing the brunt of the big job over there--while +they were bearing it. + +And that no one had done. Many of our leading actors and singers and +other entertainers were going back and forth to France all the time. +Never a week went by but they were helping to cheer up the boys at +the bases. It was a grand work they were doing, and the boys were +grateful to them, and all Britain should share that gratitude. But it +was a wee bit more that I wanted to be doing, and there was the rub. + +I wanted to go up to the battle lines themselves and to sing for the +boys who were in the thick of the struggle with the Hun. I wanted to +give a concert in a front-line trench where the Huns could hear me, +if they cared to listen. I wanted them to learn once more the lesson +we could never teach them often enough--the lesson of the spirit of +the British army, that could go into battle with a laugh on its lips. + +But at first I got no encouragement at all when I told what it was in +my mind to do. My friends who had influence shook their heads. + +"I'm afraid it can't be managed, Harry," they told me. "It's never +been done." + +I told them what I believed myself, and what I have often thought of +when things looked hard and prospects were dark. I told them +everything had to be done for the first time sometime, and I begged +them not to give up the effort to win my way for me. And so I knew +that when they told me no one had done it before it wasn't reason +enough why I shouldn't do it. And I made up my mind that I would be +the pioneer in giving concerts under fire if that should turn out to +be a part of the contract. + +But I could not argue. I could only say what it was that I wanted to +do, and wait the pleasure of those whose duty it was to decide. I +couldn't tell the military authorities where they must send me. It +was for me to obey when they gave their orders, and to go wherever +they thought I would do the most good. I would not have you thinking +that I was naming conditions, and saying I would go where I pleased +or bide at hame! That was not my way. All I could do was to hope that +in the end they would see matters as I did and so decide to let me +have my way. But I was ready for my orders, whatever they might be. + +There was one thing I wanted, above all others, to do when I got to +France, and so much I said. I wanted to meet the Highland Brigade, +and see the bonnie laddies in their kilts as the Huns saw them--the +Huns, who called them the Ladies from Hell, and hated them worse than +they hated any troops in the whole British army. + +Ha' ye heard the tale of the Scotsman and the Jew? Sandy and Ikey +they were, and they were having a disputatious argument together. +Each said he could name more great men of his race who were famous in +history than the other could. And they argued, and nearly came to +blows, and were no further along until they thought of making a bet. +An odd bet it was. For each great name that Sandy named of a Scot +whom history had honored he was to pull out one of Ikey's hairs, and +Ikey was to have the same privilege. + +"Do ye begin!" said Sandy. + +"Moses!" said They, and pulled. + +"Bobbie Burns!" cried Sandy, and returned the compliment. + +"Abraham!" said Ikey, and pulled again. "Ouch--Duggie Haig!" said +Sandy. + +And then Ikey grabbed a handful of hairs at once. + +"Joseph and his brethren!" he said, gloating a bit as he watched the +tears starting from Sandy's eyes at the pain of losing so many good +hairs at once. + +"So it's pulling them out in bunches ye are!" said Sandy. "Ah, well, +man" And he reached with both his hands for Ikey's thatch. + +"The Hieland Brigade!" he roared, and pulled all the hairs his two +hands would hold! + +Ah, weel, there are sad thoughts that come to me, as well as proud +and happy ones, when I think of the bonnie kilted laddies who fought +and died so nobly out there against the Hun! They were my own +laddies, those, and it was with them and amang them that my boy went +to his death. It was amang them I would find, I thought, those who +could tell me more than I knew of how he had died, and of how he had +lived before he died. And I thought the boys of the brigade would be +glad to see me and to hear my songs--songs of their hames and their +ain land, auld Scotland. And so I used what influence I had, and did +not think it wrong to employ at such a time, and in such a cause. For +I knew that if they sent me to the Hieland Brigade they would be +sending me to the front of the front line--for that was where I would +have to go seeking the Hieland laddies! + +I waited as patiently as I could. And then one day I got my orders! I +was delighted, for the thing they had told me could not be done had +actually been arranged for me. I was asked to get ready to go to +France to entertain the soldiers, and it was the happiest day I had +known since I had heard of my boy's death. + +There was not much for me to do in the way of making ready. The whole +trip, of course, would be a military one. I might be setting out as a +minstrel for France, but every detail of my arrangements had to be +made in accordance with military rules, and once I reached France I +would be under the orders of the army in every movement I might make. +All that was carefully explained to me. + +But still there were things for me to think about and to arrange. I +wanted some sort of accompaniment for my songs, and how to get it +puzzled me for a time. But there was a firm in London that made +pianos that heard of my coming trip, and solved that problem for me. +They built, and they presented to me, the weest piano ever you saw--a +piano so wee that it could be carried in an ordinary motor car. Only +five octaves it had, but it was big enough, and sma' enough at once. +I was delighted with it, and so were all who saw it. It weighed only +about a hundred and fifty pounds--less than even a middling stout +man! And it was cunningly built, so that no space at all was wasted. +Mrs. Lauder, when she saw it, called it cute, and so did every other +woman who laid eyes upon it. It was designed to be carried on the +grid of a motor car--and so it was, for many miles of shell-torn +roads! + +When I was sure of my piano I thought of another thing it would be +well for me to take with me. And so I spent a hundred pounds--five +hundred American dollars--for cigarettes. I knew they would be welcome +everywhere I went. It makes no matter how many cigarettes we send to +France, there will never be enough. My friends thought I was making a +mistake in taking so many; they were afraid they would make matters +hard when it came to transportation, and reminded me that I faced +difficulties in that respect in France it was nearly impossible for us +at home in Britain to visualize at all. But I had my mind and my heart +set on getting those fags--a cigarette is a fag to every British +soldier--to my destination with me. Indeed, I thought they would mean +more to the laddies out there than I could hope to do myself! + +I was not to travel alone. My tour was to include two traveling +companions of distinction and fame. One was James Hogge, M.P., member +from East Edinburgh, who was eager, as so many members of Parliament +were, to see for himself how things were at the front. James Hogge +was one of the members most liked by the soldiers. He had worked hard +for them, and gained--and well earned--much fame by the way he +struggled with the matter of getting the right sort of pensions for +the laddies who were offering their lives. + +The other distinguished companion I was to have was an old and good +friend of mine, the Reverend George Adam, then a secretary to the +Minister of Munitions. He lived in Ilford, a suburb of London, then, +but is now in Montreal, Canada. I was glad of the opportunity to travel +with both these men, for I knew that one's traveling companions, on +such a tour, were of the utmost importance in determining its success +or failure, and I could not have chosen a better pair, had the choice +been left to me--which, of course, it was not. + +There we were, you see--the Reverend George Adam, Harry Lauder and +James Hogge, M.P. And no sooner did the soldiers hear of the +combination than our tour was named "The Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., +Tour" was what we were called! And that absurd name stuck to us +through our whole journey, in France, up and down the battle line, +and until we came home to England and broke up! + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Up to that time I had thought I knew a good deal about the war. I had +had much news from my boy. I had talked, I think, to as many returned +soldiers as any man in Britain. I had seen much of the backwash and +the wretched aftermath of war. Ah, yes, I thought I knew more than +most folk did of what war meant! But until my tour began, as I see +now, easily enough, I knew nothing--literally nothing at all! + +There are towns and ports in Britain that are military areas. One may +not enter them except upon business, the urgency of which has been +established to the satisfaction of the military authorities. One must +have a permit to live in them, even if they be one's home town. These +towns are vital to the war and its successful prosecution. + +Until one has seen a British port of embarkation in this war one has +no real beginning, even, of a conception of the task the war has +imposed upon Britain. It was so with me, I know, and since then other +men have told me the same thing. There the army begins to pour into +the funnel, so to speak, that leads to France and the front. There +all sorts of lines are brought together, all sorts of scattered +activities come to a focus. There is incessant activity, day and +night. + +It was from Folkestone, on the southeast coast, that the Reverend +Harry Lauder, M.P. Tour was to embark. And we reached Folkestone on +June 7, 1917. + +Folkestone, in time of peace, was one of the greatest of the Southern +watering places. It is a lovely spot. Great hotels line the Leas, a +glorious promenade, along the top of chalk cliffs, that looks out +over the Channel. In the distance one fancies one may see the coast +of France, beyond the blue water. + +There is green grass everywhere behind the beach. Folkestone has a +miniature harbor, that in time of peace gave shelter to the fishing +fleet and to the channel steamers that plied to and from Boulogne, in +France. The harbor is guarded by stone jetties. It has been greatly +enlarged now--so has all Folkestone, for that matter. But I am +remembering the town as it was in peace! + +There was no pleasanter and kindlier resort along that coast. The +beach was wonderful, and all summer long it attracted bathers and +children at play. Bathing machines lined the beach, of course, within +the limits of the town; those queer, old, clumsy looking wagons, with +a dressing cabin on wheels, that were drawn up and down according to +the tide, so that bathers might enter the water from them directly. +There, as in most British towns, women bathed at one part of the +beach, men at the other, and all in the most decorous and modest of +costumes. + +But at Folkestone, in the old days of peace, about a mile from the +town limits, there was another stretch of beach where all the gay +folk bathed--men and women together. And there the costumes were such +as might be seen at Deauville or Ostend, Etretat or Trouville. Highly +they scandalized the good folk of Folkestone, to be sure--but little +was said, and nothing was done, for, after all those were the folk +who spent the money! They dressed in white tents that gleamed against +the sea, and a pretty splash of color they made on a bright day for +the soberer folk to go and watch, as they sat on the low chalk cliffs +above them! + +Gone--gone! Such days have passed for Folkestone! They will no doubt +come again--but when? When? + +June the seventh! Folkestone should have been gay for the beginning +of the onset of summer visitors. Sea bathing should just have been +beginning to be attractive, as the sun warmed the sea and the beach. +But when we reached the town war was over all. Men in uniform were +everywhere. Warships lay outside the harbor. Khaki and guns, men +trudging along, bearing the burdens of war, motor trucks, rushing +ponderously along, carrying ammunition and food, messengers on +motorcycles, sounding to all traffic that might be in the way the +clamorous summons to clear the path--those were the sights we saw! + +How hopelessly confused it all seemed! I could not believe that there +was order in the chaos that I saw. But that was because the key to +all that bewildering activity was not in my possession. + +Every man had his appointed task. He was a cog in the greatest +machine the world has ever seen. He knew just what he was to do, and +how much time had been allowed for the performance of his task. It +was assumed he would not fail. The British army makes that +assumption, and it is warranted. + +I hear praise, even from men who hate the Hun as I hate him, for the +superb military organization of the German army. They say the +Kaiser's people may well take pride in that. But I say that I am +prouder of what Britain and the new British army that has come into +being since this war began have done than any German has a right to +be! They spent forty-four years in making ready for a war they knew +they meant, some day, to fight. We had not had, that day that I first +saw our machine really functioning, as many months for preparation as +they had had years. And yet we were doing our part. + +We had had to build and prepare while we helped our ally, France, to +hold off that gray horde that had swept down so treacherously through +Belgium from the north and east. It was as if we had organized and +trained and equipped a fire brigade while the fire was burning, and +while our first devoted fighters sought to keep it in check with +water buckets. And they did! They did! The water buckets served while +the hose was made, and the mains were laid, and the hydrants set in +place, and the trained firemen were made ready to take up the task. + +And, now that I had come to Folkestone, now that I was seeing the +results of all the labor that had been performed, the effect of all +the prodigies of organization, I began to know what Lord Kitchener +and those who had worked with him had done. System ruled everything +at Folkestone. Nothing, it seemed to me, as officers explained as +much as they properly could, had been left to chance. Here was order +indeed. + +In the air above us airplanes flew to and fro. They circled about +like great, watchful hawks. They looped and whirled around, cutting +this way and that, circling always. And I knew that, as they flew +about outside the harbor the men in them were never off their guard; +that they were peering down, watching every moment for the first +trace of a submarine that might have crept through the more remote +defenses of the Channel. Let a submarine appear--its shrift would be +short indeed! + +There, above, waited the airplanes. And on the surface of the sea +sinister destroyers darted about as watchful as the flyers above, +ready for any emergency that might arise. I have no doubt that +submarines of our own lurked below, waiting, too, to do their part. +But those, if any there were, I did not see. And one asks no +questions at a place like Folkestone. I was glad of any information +an officer might voluntarily give me. But it was not for me or any +other loyal Briton to put him in the position of having to refuse to +answer. + +Soon a great transport was pointed out to me, lying beside the jetty. +Gangplanks were down, and up them streams of men in khaki moved +endlessly. Up they went, in an endless brown river, to disappear into +the ship. The whole ship was a very hive of activity. Not only men +were going aboard, but supplies of every sort; boxes of ammunition, +stores, food. And I understood, and was presently to see, that beyond +her sides there was the same ordered scene as prevailed on shore. +Every man knew his task; the stowing away of everything that was +being carried aboard was being carried out systematically and with +the utmost possible economy of time and effort. + +"That's the ship you will cross the Channel on," I was told. And I +regarded her with a new interest. I do not know what part she had +been wont to play in time of peace; what useful, pleasant journeys it +had been her part to complete, I only knew that she was to carry me +to France, and to the place where my heart was and for a long time +had been. Me--and two thousand men who were to be of real use over +there! + +We were nearly the last to go on board. We found the decks swarming +with men. Ah, the braw laddies! They smoked and they laughed as they +settled themselves for the trip. Never a one looked as though he +might be sorry to be there. They were leaving behind them all the +good things, all the pleasant things, of life as, in time of peace, +every one of them had learned to live it and to know it. Long, long +since had the last illusion faded of the old days when war had seemed +a thing of pomp and circumstance and glory. + +They knew well, those boys, what it was they faced. Hard, grinding +work they could look forward to doing; such work as few of them had +ever known in the old days. Death and wounds they could reckon upon +as the portion of just about so many of them. There would be bitter +cold, later, in the trenches, and mud, and standing for hours in icy +mud and water. There would be hard fare, and scanty, sometimes, when +things went wrong. There would be gas attacks, and the bursting of +shells about them with all sorts of poisons in them. Always there +would be the deadliest perils of these perilous days. + +But they sang as they set out upon the great adventure of their +lives. They smiled and laughed. They cheered me, so that the tears +started from my eyes, when they saw me, and they called the gayest of +gay greetings, though they knew that I was going only for a little +while, and that many of them had set foot on British soil for the +last time. The steady babble of their voices came to our ears, and +they swarmed below us like ants as they disposed themselves about the +decks, and made the most of the scanty space that was allowed for +them. The trip was to be short, of course; there were too few ships, +and the problems of convoy were too great, to make it possible to +make the voyage a comfortable one. It was a case of getting them over +as might best be arranged. + +A word of command rang out and was passed around by officers and non +coms. + +"Life belts must be put on before the ship sails!" + +That simple order brought home the grim facts of war at that moment as +scarcely anything else could have done. Here was a grim warning of the +peril that lurked outside. Everywhere men were scurrying to obey--I +among the rest. The order applied as much to us civilians as it did to +any of the soldiers. And my belt did not fit, and was hard, extremely +hard, for me to don. I could no manage it at all by myself, but Adam +and Hogge had had an easier time with theirs, and they came to my help. +Among us we got mine on, and Hogge stood off, and looked at me, +and smiled. + +"An extraordinary effect, Harry!" he said, with a smile. "I declare-- +it gives you the most charming embonpoint!" + +I had my doubts about his use of the word charming. I know that I +should not have cared to have anyone judge of my looks from a picture +taken as I looked then, had one been taken. + +But it was not a time for such thoughts. For a civilian, especially, +and one not used to journeys in such times as these, there is a +thrill and a solemnity about the donning of a life preserver. I felt +that I was indeed, it might be, taking a risk in making this journey, +and it was an awesome thought that I, too, might have seen my native +land for the last time, and said a real good-by to those whom I had +left behind me. + +Now we cast off, and began to move, and a thrill ran through me such +as I had never known before in all my life. I went to the rail as we +turned our nose toward the open sea. A destroyer was ahead, another +was beside us, others rode steadily along on either side. It was the +most reassuring of sights to see them. They looked so business like, +so capable. I could not imagine a Hun submarine as able to evade +their watchfulness. And moreover, there were the watchful man birds +above us, the circling airplanes, that could make out, so much better +than could any lookout on a ship, the first trace of the presence of +a tin fish. No--I was not afraid! I trusted in the British navy, +which had guarded the sea lane so well that not a man had lost his +life as the result of a Hun attack, although many millions had gone +back and forth to France since the beginning of the war. + +I did not stay with my own party. I preferred to move about among the +Soldiers. I was deeply interested in them, as I have always been. And +I wanted to make friends among them, and see how they felt. + +"Lor' lumme--its old 'Arry Lauder!" said one cockney. "God bless you, +'Arry--many's the time I've sung with you in the 'alls. It's good to +see you with us!" + +And so I was greeted everywhere. Man after man crowded around me to +shake hands. It brought a lump into my throat to be greeted so, and +it made me more than ever glad that the military authorities had been +able to see their way to grant my request. It confirmed my belief +that I was going where I might be really useful to the men who were +ready and willing to make the greatest of all sacrifices in the cause +so close to all our hearts. + +When I first went aboard the transport I picked up a little gold +stripe. It was one of those men wear who have been wounded, as a +badge of honor. I hoped I might be able to find the man who had lost +it, and return it to him. But none of them claimed it, and I have +kept it, to this day, as a souvenir of that voyage. + +It was easy for them to know me. I wore my kilt and my cap, and my +knife in my stocking, as I have always done, on the stage, and nearly +always off it as well. And so they recognized me without difficulty. +And never a one called me anything but Harry--except when it was +'Arry! I think I would be much affronted if ever a British soldier +called me Mr. Lauder. I don't know--because not one of them ever did, +and I hope none ever will! + +They told me that there were men from the Highlands on board, and I +went looking for them, and found them after a time, though going +about that ship, so crowded she was, was no easy matter. They were +Gordon Highlanders, mostly, I found, and they were glad to see me, +and made me welcome, and I had a pipe with them, and a good talk. + +Many of them were going back, after having been at home, recuperating +from wounds. And they and the new men too were all eager and anxious +to be put there and at work. + +"Gie us a chance at the Huns--it's all we're asking," said one of a +new draft. "They're telling us they don't like the sight of our +kilts, Harry, and that a Hun's got less stomach for the cold steel of +a bayonet than for anything else on earth. Weel--we're carrying a +dose of it for them!" + +And the men who had been out before, and were taking back with them +the scars they had earned, were just as anxious as the rest. That was +the spirit of every man on board. They did not like war as war, but +they knew that this was a war that must be fought to the finish, and +never a man of them wanted peace to come until Fritz had learned his +lesson to the bottom of Lie last grim page. + +I never heard a word of the danger of meeting a submarine. The idea +that one might send a torpedo after us popped into my mind once or +twice, but when it did I looked out at the destroyers, guarding us, +and the airplanes above, and I felt as safe as if I had been in bed +in my wee hoose at Dunoon. It was a true highway of war that those +whippets of the sea had made the Channel crossing. + +Ahm, but I was proud that day of the British navy! It is a great task +that it has performed, and nobly it has done it. And it was proud and +glad I was again when we sighted land, as we soon did, and I knew +that I was gazing, for the first time since war had been declared, +upon the shores of our great ally, France. It was the great day and +the proud day and the happy day for me! + +I was near the realizing of an old dream I had often had. I was with +the soldiers who had my love and my devotion, and I was coming to +France--the France that every Scotchman learns to love at his +mother's breast. + +A stir ran through the men. Orders began to fly, and I went back to +my place and my party. Soon we would be ashore, and I would be in the +way of beginning the work I had come to do. + +[ILLUSTRATION: Harry Lauder preserves the bonnet of his son, brought +to him from where the lad fell. "The memory of his boy, it is almost +his religion." (See Lauder05.jpg)] + +[ILLUSTRATION: A tatter of plaid of the Black Watch on a wire of a +German entanglement barely suggests the hell the Scotch troops have +gone through. (See Lauder06.jpg)] + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Boulogne! + +Like Folkestone, Boulogne, in happier times, had been a watering +place, less fashionable than some on the French coast, but the +pleasant resort of many in search of health and pleasure. And like +Folkestone it had suffered the blight of war. The war had laid its +heavy hand upon the port. It ruled everything; it was omnipresent. +From the moment when we came into full view of the harbor it was +impossible to think of anything else. + +Folkestone had made me think of the mouth of a great funnel, into +which all broad Britain had been pouring men and guns and all the +manifold supplies and stores of modern war. And the trip across the +narrow, well guarded lane in the Channel had been like the pouring of +water through the neck of that same funnel. Here in Boulogne was the +opening. Here the stream of men and sup-plies spread out to begin its +orderly, irresistible flow to the front. All of northern France and +Belgium lay before that stream; it had to cover all the great length +of the British front. Not from Boulogne alone, of course; I knew of +Dunkirk and Calais, and guessed at other ports. There were other +funnels, and into all of them, day after day, Britain was pouring her +tribute; through all of them she was offering her sacrifice, to be +laid upon the altar of strife. + +Here, much more than at Folkestone, as it chanced, I saw at once +another thing. There was a double funnel. The stream ran both ways. +For, as we steamed into Boulogne, a ship was coming out--a ship with +a grim and tragic burden. She was one of our hospital ships. But she +was guarded as carefully by destroyers and aircraft as our transport +had been. The Red Cross meant nothing to the Hun--except, perhaps, a +shining target. Ship after ship that bore that symbol of mercy and of +pain had been sunk. No longer did our navy dare to trust the Red +Cross. It took every precaution it could take to protect the poor +fellows who were going home to Blighty. + +As we made our way slowly in, through the crowded harbor, full of +transports, of ammunition ships, of food carriers, of destroyers and +small naval craft of all sorts, I began to be able to see more and +more of what was afoot ashore. It was near noon; the day that had +been chosen for my arrival in France was one of brilliant sunshine +and a cloudless sky. And my eyes were drawn to other hospital ships +that were waiting at the docks. Motor ambulances came dashing up, one +after the other, in what seemed to me to be an endless stream. The +pity of that sight! It was as if I could peer through the intervening +space and see the bandaged heads, the places where limbs had been, +the steadfast gaze of the boys who were being carried up in +stretchers. They had done their task, a great number of them; they +had given all that God would let them give to King and country. Life +was left to them, to be sure; most of these boys were sure to live. + +But to what maimed and incomplete lives were they doomed! The +thousands who would be cripples always--blind, some of them, and +helpless, dependent upon what others might choose or be able to do +for them. It was then, in that moment, that an idea was born, +vaguely, in my mind, of which I shall have much more to say later. + +There was beauty in that harbor of Boulogne. The sun gleamed against +the chalk cliffs. It caught the wings of airplanes, flying high above +us. But there was little of beauty in my mind's eye. That could see +through the surface beauty of the scene and of the day to the grim, +stark ugliness of war that lay beneath. + +I saw the ordered piles of boxes and supplies, the bright guns, with +the sun reflected from their barrels, dulled though these were to +prevent that very thing. And I thought of the waste that was +involved--of how all this vast product of industry was destined to be +destroyed, as swiftly as might be, bringing no useful accomplishment +with its destruction--save, of course, that accomplishment which must +be completed before any useful thing may be done again in this world. + +Then we went ashore, and I could scarcely believe that we were indeed +in France, that land which, friends though our nations are, is at +heart and in spirit so different from my own country. Boulogne had +ceased to be French, indeed. The port was like a bit of Britain +picked up, carried across the Channel and transplanted successfully +to a new resting-place. + +English was spoken everywhere--and much of it was the English of the +cockney, innocent of the aitch, and redolent of that strange tongue. +But it is no for me, a Scot, to speak of how any other man uses the +King's English! Well I ken it! It was good to hear it--had there been +a thought in my mind of being homesick, it would quickly have been +dispelled. The streets rang to the tread of British soldiers; our +uniform was everywhere. There were Frenchmen, too; they were +attached, many of them, for one reason and another, to the British +forces. But most of them spoke English too. + +I had most care about the unloading of my cigarettes. It was a point +of honor with me, by now, after the way my friends had joked me about +them, to see that every last one of the "fags" I had brought with me +reached a British Tommy. So to them I gave my first care. Then I saw +to the unloading of my wee piano, and, having done so, was free to go +with the other members of the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour to +the small hotel that was to be headquarters for all of us in +Boulogne. + +Arrangements had to be made for my debut in France, and I can tell +you that no professional engagement I have ever filled ever gave me +half so much concern as this one! I have sung before many strange +audiences, in all parts of the world, or nearly all. I have sung for +folk who had no idea of what to expect from me, and have known that I +must be at work from the moment of my first appearance on the stage +to win them. But these audiences that I was to face here in France +gave me more thought than any of them. I had so great a reason for +wanting to suceed with them! + +And here, ye ken, I faced conditions that were harder than had ever +fallen to my lot. I was not to have, most of the time, even the +military theaters that had, in some cases, been built for the men +behind the lines, where many actors and, indeed, whole companies, +from home had been appearing. I could make no changes of costume. I +would have no orchestra. Part of the time I would have my wee piano, +but I reckoned on going to places where even that sma' thing could no +follow me. + +But I had a good manager--the British army, no less! It was the army +that had arranged my booking. We were not left alone, not for a +minute. I would not have you think that we were left to go around on +our own, and as we pleased. Far from it! No sooner had we landed than +Captain Roberts, D.S.O., told me, in a brief, soldierly way, that was +also extremely businesslike, what sort of plans had been made for us. + +"We have a number of big hospitals here," he said. "This is one of +the important British bases, as you know, and it is one of those +where many of our men are treated before they are sent home. So, +since you are here, we thought you would want to give your first +concerts to the wounded men here." + +So I learned that the opening of what you might call my engagement in +the trenches was to be in hospitals. That was not new to me, and yet +I was to find that there was a difference between a base hospital in +France and the sort of hospitals I had seen so often at home. + +Nothing, indeed, was left to us. After Captain Roberts had explained +matters, we met Captain Godfrey, who was to travel with us, and be +our guide, our military mentor and our ruler. We understood that we +must place ourselves under him, and under military discipline. No +Tommy, indeed, was more under discipline than we had to be. But we +did not chafe, civilians though we were. When you see the British +army at work nothing is further from your thoughts than to criticize +or to offer any suggestions. It knows its business, and does it, +quietly and without fuss. But even Fritz has learned to be chary of +getting in the way when the British army has made up its mind--and +that is what he is there for, though I've no doubt that Fritz himself +would give a pretty penny to be at home again, with peace declared. + +Captain Godfrey, absolute though his power over us was--he could have +ordered us all home at a moment's notice--turned out to be a +delightful young officer, who did everything in his power to make our +way smooth and pleasant, and who was certainly as good a manager as I +ever had or ever expect to have. He entered into the spirit of our +tour, and it was plain to see that it would be a success from start +to finish if it were within his power to make it so. He liked to call +himself my manager, and took a great delight, indeed, in the whole +experience. Well, it was a change for him, no doubt! + +I had brought a piano with me, but no accompanist. That was not an +oversight; it was a matter of deliberate choice. I had been told, +before I left home, that I would have no difficulty in finding some +one among the soldiers to accompany me. And that was true, as I soon +found. In fact, as I was to learn later, I could have recruited a +full orchestra among the Tommies, and I would have had in my band, +too, musicians of fame and great ability, far above the average +theater orchestra. Oh, you must go to France to learn how every art +and craft in Britain has done its part! + +Aye, every sort of artist and artisan, men of every profession and +trade, can be found in the British army. It has taken them all, like +some great melting pot, and made them soldiers. I think, indeed, +there is no calling that you could name that would not yield you a +master hand from the ranks of the British army. And I am not talking +of the officers alone, but of the great mass of Tommies. And so when +I told Captain Godfrey I would be needing a good pianist to play my +accompaniments, he just smiled. + +"Right you are!" he said. "We'll turn one up for you in no time!" + +He had no doubts at all, and he was right. They found a lad called +Johnson, a Yorkshireman, in a convalescent ward of one of the big +hospitals. He was recovering from an illness he had incurred in the +trenches, and was not quite ready to go back to active duty. But he +was well enough to play for me, and delighted when he heard he might +get the assignment. He was nervous lest he should not please me, and +feared I might ask for another man. But when I ran over with him the +songs I meant to sing I found he played the piano very well indeed, +and had a knack for accompanying, too. There are good pianists, +soloists, who are not good accompanists; it takes more than just the +ability to play the piano to work with a singer, and especially with +a singer like me. It is no straight ahead singing I do always, as you +ken, perhaps. + +But I saw at once that Johnson and I would get along fine together, +so everyone was pleased, and I went on and made my preparations with +him for my first concert. That was to be in the Boulogne Casino-- +center of the gayety of the resort in the old days, but now, for a +long time, turned into a base hospital. + +They had played for high stakes there in the old days before the war. +Thousands of dollars had changed hands in an hour there. But they +were playing for higher stakes now! They were playing for the lives +and the health of men, and the hearts of the women at home in Britain +who were bound up with them. In the old days men had staked their +money against the turn of a card or the roll of the wheel. But now it +was with Death they staked--and it was a mightier game than those old +walls had ever seen before. + +The largest ward of the hospital was in what had been the Baccarat +room, and it was there I held my first concert of the trench +engagement. When I appeared it was packed full. There were men on +cots, lying still and helpless, bandaged to their very eyes. Some +came limping in on their crutches; some were rolled in in chairs. It +was a sad scene and an impressive one, and it went to my heart when I +thought that my own poor laddie must have lain in just such a room-- +in this very one, perhaps. He had suffered as these men were +suffering, and he had died--as some of these men for whom I was to +sing would die. For there were men here who would be patched up, +presently, and would go back. And for them there might be a next +time--a next time when they would need no hospital. + +There was one thing about the place I liked. It was so clean and +white and spotless. All the garish display, the paint and tawdry +finery, of the old gambling days, had gone. It was restful, now, and +though there was the hospital smell, it was a clean smell. And the +men looked as though they had wonderful care. Indeed, I knew they had +that; I knew that everything that could be done to ease their state +was being done. And every face I saw was brave and cheerful, though +the skin of many and many a lad was stretched tight over his bones +with the pain he had known, and there was a look in their eyes, a +look with no repining in it, or complaint, but with the evidences of +a terrible pain, bravely suffered, that sent the tears starting to my +eyes more than once. + +It was much as it had been in the many hospitals I had visited in +Britain, and yet it was different, too. I felt that I was really at +the front. Later I came to realize how far from the real front I +actually was at Boulogne, but then I knew no better. + +I had chosen my programme carefully. It was made up of songs +altogether. I had had enough experience in hospitals and camps by now +to have learned what soldiers liked best, and I had no doubt at all +that it was just songs. And best of all they liked the old love +songs, and the old songs of Scotland--tender, crooning melodies, that +would help to carry them back, in memory, to their hames and, if they +had them, to the lassies of their dreams. It was no sad, lugubrious +songs they wanted. But a note of wistful tenderness they liked. That +was true of sick and wounded, and of the hale and hearty too--and it +showed that, though they were soldiers, they were just humans like +the rest of us, for all the great and super-human things they ha' +done out there in France. + +Not every actor and artist who has tried to help in the hospitals has +fully understood the men he or she wanted to please. They meant well, +every one, but some were a wee bit unfortunate in the way they went +to work. There is a story that is told of one of our really great +serious actors. He is serious minded, always, on the stage and off, +and very, very dignified. But some folk went to him and asked him +would he no do his bit to cheer up the puir laddies in a hospital? + +He never thought of refusing--and I would no have you think I am +sneering at the man! His intentions were of the best. + +"Of course, I do not sing or dance," he said, drawing down his lip. +And the look in his eyes showed what he thought of such of us as had +descended to such low ways of pleasing the public that paid to see us +and to hear us: "But I shall very gladly do something to bring a +little diversion into the sad lives of the poor boys in the +hospitals." + +It was a stretcher audience that he had. That means a lot of boys who +had to lie in bed to hear him. They needed cheering. And that great +actor, with all his good intentions could think of nothing more +fitting than to stand up before them and begin to recite, in a sad, +elocutionary tone, Longfellow's "The Wreck of the Hesperus!" + +He went on, and his voice gained power. He had come to the third +stanza, or the fourth, maybe, when a command rang out through the +ward. It was one that had been heard many and many a time in France, +along the trenches. It came from one of the beds. + +"To cover, men!" came the order. + +It rang out through the ward, in a hoarse voice. And on the word +every man's head popped under the bedclothes! And the great actor, +astonished beyond measure, was left there, reciting away to shaking +mounds of bedclothes that entrenched his hearers from the sound of +his voice! + +Well, I had heard yon tale. I do no think I should ever have risked a +similar fate by making the same sort of mistake, but I profited by +hearing it, and I always remembered it. And there was another thing. +I never thought, when I was going to sing for soldiers, that I was +doing something for them that should make them glad to listen to me, +no matter what I chose to sing for them. + +I always thought, instead, that here was an audience that had paid to +hear me in the dearest coin in all the world--their legs and arms, +their health and happiness. Oh, they had paid! They had not come in +on free passes! Their tickets had cost them dear--dearer than tickets +for the theater had ever cost before. I owed them more than I could +ever pay--my own future, and my freedom, and the right and the chance +to go on living in my own country free from the threat and the menace +of the Hun. It was for me to please those boys when I sang for them, +and to make such an effort as no ordinary audience had ever heard +from me. + +They had made a little platform to serve as a stage for me. There was +room for me and for Johnson, and for the wee piano. And so I sang for +them, and they showed me from the start that they were pleased. Those +who could, clapped, and all cheered, and after each song there was a +great pounding of crutches on the floor. It was an inspiring sound +and a great sight, sad though it was to see and to hear. + +When I had done I went aboot amang the men, shaking hands with such +as could gie me their hands, and saying a word or two to all of them. +Directly in front of the platform there lay a wounded Scots soldier, +and all through my concert he watched me most intently; he never took +his eyes off me. When I had sung my last song he beckoned to me +feebly, and I went to him, and bent over to listen to him. + +"Eh, Harry, man," he said, "will ye be doin' me a favor?" + +"Aye, that I will, if I can," I told him. + +"It's to ask the doctor will I no be gettin' better soon. Because, +Harry, mon, I've but the one desire left--and that's to be in at the +finish of yon fight!" + +I was to give one more concert in Boulogne, that night. That was more +cheerful, and it was different, again, from anything I had done or +known before. There was a convalescent camp, about two miles from +town, high up on the chalk cliffs. And this time my theater was a +Y.M.C.A. hut. But do not let the name hut deceive ye! I had an +audience of two thousand men that nicht! It was all the "hut" would +hold, with tight squeezing. And what a roaring, wild crowd that was, +to be sure! They sang with me, and they cheered and clapped until I +thought that hut would be needing a new roof! + +I had to give over at last, for I was tired, and needed sleep. We had +our orders. The Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour was to start for +Vimy Ridge at six o'clock next morning! + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +We were up next morning before daybreak. But I did not feel as if I +were getting up early. Indeed, it was quite the reverse. All about us +was a scene of such activity that I felt as if I had been lying in +bed unconsciously long--as if I were the laziest man in all that busy +town. Troops were setting out, boarding military trains. Cheery, +jovial fellows they were--the same lads, some of them, who had +crossed the Channel with me, and many others who had come in later. +Oh, it is a steady stream of men and supplies, indeed, that goes +across the narrow sea to France! + +Motor trucks--they were calling them camions, after the French +fashion, because it was a shorter and a simpler word--fairly swarmed +in the streets. Guns rolled ponderously along. It was not military +pomp we saw. Indeed, I saw little enough of that in France. It was +only the uniforms and the guns that made me realize that this was +war. The activity was more that of a busy, bustling factory town. It +was not English, and it was not French. I think it made me think more +of an American city. War, I cannot tell you often enough, is a great +business, a vast industry, in these days. Someone said, and he was +right, that they did not win victories any more--that they +manufactured them, as all sorts of goods are manufactured. Digging, +and building--that is the great work of modern war. + +Our preparations, being in the hands of Captain Godfrey and the +British army, were few and easily made. Two great, fast army motor +cars had been put at the disposal of the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., +Tour, and when we went out to get into them and make our start it was +just a problem of stowing away all we had to carry with us. + +The first car was a passenger car. Each motor had a soldier as +chauffeur. I and the Reverend George Adam rode in the tonneau of the +leading car, and Captain Godfrey, our manager and guide, sat with the +driver, in front. That was where he belonged, and where, being a +British officer, he naturally wanted to be. They have called our +officers reckless, and said that they risked their lives too freely. +Weel--I dinna ken! I am no soldier. But I know what a glorious +tradition the British officer has--and I know, too, how his men +follow him. They know, do the laddies in the ranks, that their +officers will never ask them to go anywhere or do anything they would +shirk themselves--and that makes for a spirit that you could not +esteem too highly. + +It was the second car that was our problem. We put Johnson, my +accompanist, in the tonneau first, and then we covered him with +cigarettes. It was a problem to get them stowed away, and when we had +accomplished the task, finally, there was not much of Johnson to be +seen! He was covered and surrounded with cigarettes, but he was snug, +and he looked happy and comfortable, as he grinned at us--his face +was about all of him that we could see. Hogge rode in front with the +driver of that car, and had more room, so, than he would have had in +the tonneau, where, as a passenger and a guest, he really belonged. +The wee bit piano was lashed to the grid of the second car. And I +give you my word it looked like a gypsy's wagon more than like one of +the neat cars of the British army! + +Weel, all was ready in due time, and it was just six o'clock when we +set off. There was a thing I noted again and again. The army did +things on time in France. If we were to start at a certain time we +always did. Nothing ever happened to make us unpunctual. + +It was a glorious morning! We went roaring out of Boulogne on a road +that was as hard and smooth as a paved street in London despite all +the terrific traffic it had borne since the war made Boulogne a +British base. And there were no speed limits here. So soon as the +cars were tuned up we went along at the highest speed of which the +cars were capable. Our soldier drivers knew their business; only the +picked men were assigned to the driving of these cars, and speed was +one of the things that was wanted of them. Much may hang on the speed +of a motor car in France. + +But, fast as we traveled, we did not go too fast for me to enjoy the +drive and the sights and sounds that were all about us. They were +oddly mixed. Some were homely and familiar, and some were so strange +that I could not give over wondering at them. The motors made a great +noise, but it was not too loud for me to hear larks singing in the +early morning. All the world was green with the early sun upon it, +lighting up every detail of a strange countryside. There was a soft +wind, a gentle, caressing wind, that stirred the leaves of the trees +along the road. + +But not for long could we escape the touch of war. That grim etcher +was at work upon the road and the whole countryside. As we went on we +were bound to move more slowly, because of the congestion of the +traffic. Never was Piccadilly or Fifth Avenue more crowded with +motors at the busiest hour of the day than was that road. As we +passed through villages or came to cross roads we saw military +police, directing traffic, precisely as they do at busy intersections +of crowded streets in London or New York. + +But the traffic along that road was not the traffic of the cities. +Here were no ladies, gorgeously clad, reclining in their luxurious, +deeply upholstered cars. Here were no footmen and chauffeurs in +livery. Ah, they wore a livery--aye! But it was the livery of glory-- +the khaki of the King! Generals and high officers passed us, bowling +along, lolling in their cars, taking their few brief minutes or half +hours of ease, smoking and talking. They corresponded to the +limousines and landaulets of the cities. And there were wagons from +the shops--great trucks, carrying supplies, going along at a pace +that racked their engines and their bodies, and that boded disaster +to whoever got in their way. But no one did--there was no real +confusion here, despite the seeming madness of the welter of traffic +that we saw. + +What a traffic that was! And it was all the traffic of the carnage we +were nearing. It was a marvelous and an impressive panorama of force +and of destruction that we saw it was being constantly unrolled +before my wondering eyes as we traveled along the road out of old +Boulogne. + +At first all the traffic was going our way. Sometimes there came a +warning shriek from behind, and everything drew to one side to make +room for a dispatch rider on a motor cycle. These had the right of +way. Sir Douglas Haig himself, were he driving along, would see his +driver turn out to make way for one of those shrieking motor bikes! +The rule is absolute--everything makes way for them. + +But it was not long before a tide of traffic began to meet us, +flowing back toward Boulogne. There was a double stream then, and I +wondered how collisions and traffic jams of all sorts could be +avoided. I do not know yet; I only know that there is no trouble. +Here were empty trucks, speeding back for new loads. And some there +were that carried all sorts of wreckage--the flotsam and jetsam cast +up on the safe shores behind the front by the red tide of war. +Nothing is thrown away out there; nothing is wasted. Great piles of +discarded shoes are brought back to be made over. They are as good as +new when they come back from the factories where they are worked +over. Indeed, the men told me they were better than new, because they +were less trying to their feet, and did not need so much breaking in. + +Men go about, behind the front, and after a battle, picking up +everything that has been thrown away. Everything is sorted and gone +over with the utmost care. Rifles that have been thrown away or +dropped when men were wounded or killed, bits of uniforms, bayonets-- +everything is saved. Reclamation is the order of the day. There is +waste enough in war that cannot be avoided; the British army sees to +it that there is none that is avoidable. + +But it was not only that sort of wreckage, that sort of driftwood +that was being carried back to be made over. Presently we began to +see great motor ambulances coming along, each with a Red Cross +painted glaringly on its side--though that paint was wasted or worse, +for there is no target the Hun loves better, it would seem, than the +great red cross of mercy. And in them, as we knew, there was the most +pitiful wreckage of all--the human wreckage of the war. + +In the wee sma' hours of the morn they bear the men back who have +been hit the day before and during the night. They go back to the +field dressing stations and the hospitals just behind the front, to +be sorted like the other wreckage. Some there are who cannot be moved +further, at first, but must he cared for under fire, lest they die on +the way. But all whose wounds are such that they can safely be moved +go back in the ambulances, first to the great base hospitals, and +then, when possible, on the hospital ships to England. + +Sometimes, but not often, we passed troops marching along the road. +They swung along. They marched easily, with the stride that could +carry them furthest with the least effort. They did not look much +like the troops I used to see in London. They did not have the snap +of the Coldstream Guards, marching through Green Park in the old +days. But they looked like business and like war. They looked like +men who had a job of work to do and meant to see it through. + +They had discipline, those laddies, but it was not the old, stiff +discipline of the old army. That is a thing of a day that is dead and +gone. Now, as we passed along the side of the road that marching +troops always leave clear, there was always a series of hails for me. + +"Hello, Harry!" I would hear. + +And I would look back, and see grinning Tommies waving their hands to +me. It was a flattering experience, I can tell you, to be recognized +like that along that road. It was like running into old friends in a +strange town where you have come thinking you know no one at all. + +We were about thirty miles out of Boulogne when there was a sudden +explosion underneath the car, followed by a sibilant sound that I +knew only too well. + +"Hello--a puncture!" said Godfrey, and smiled as he turned around. We +drew up to the side of the road, and both chauffeurs jumped out and +went to work on the recalcitrant tire. The rest of us sat still, and +gazed around us at the fields. I was glad to have a chance to look +quietly about. The fields stretched out, all emerald green, in all +directions to the distant horizon, sapphire blue that glorious +morning. And in the fields, here and there, were the bent, stooped +figures of old men and women. They were carrying on, quietly. +Husbands and sons and brothers had gone to war; all the young men of +France had gone. These were left, and they were seeing to the +performance of the endless cycle of duty. France would survive; the +Hun could not crush her. Here was a spirit made manifest--a spirit +different in degree but not in kind from the spirit of my ain +Britain. It brought a lump into my throat to see them, the old men +and the women, going so patiently and quietly about their tasks. + +It was very quiet. Faint sounds came to us; there was a distant +rumbling, like the muttering of thunder on a summer's night, when the +day has been hot and there are low, black clouds lying against the +horizon, with the flashes of the lightning playing through them. But +that I had come already not to heed, though I knew full well, by now, +what it was and what it meant. For a little space the busy road had +become clear; there was a long break in the traffic. + +I turned to Adam and to Captain Godfrey. + +"I'm thinking here's a fine chance for a bit of a rehearsal in the +open air," I said. "I'm not used to singing so--mayhap it would be +well to try my voice and see will it carry as it should." + +"Right oh!" said Godfrey. + +And so we dug Johnson out from his snug barricade of cigarettes, that +hid him as an emplacement hides a gun, and we unstrapped my wee piano, +and set it up in the road. Johnson tried the piano, and then we began. + +I think I never sang with less restraint in all my life than I did +that quiet morning on the Boulogne road. I raised my voice and let it +have its will. And I felt my spirits rising with the lilt of the +melody. My voice rang out, full and free, and it must have carried +far and wide across the fields. + +My audience was small at first--Captain Godfrey, Hogge, Adam, and the +two chauffeurs, working away, and having more trouble with the tire +than they had thought at first they would--which is the way of tires, +as every man knows who owns a car. But as they heard my songs the old +men and women in the fields straightened up to listen. They stood +wondering, at first, and then, slowly, they gave over their work for +a space, and came to gather round me and to listen. + +It must have seemed strange to them! Indeed, it must have seemed +strange to anyone had they seen and heard me! There I was, with +Johnson at my piano, like some wayside tinker setting up his cart and +working at his trade! But I did not care for appearances--not a whit. +For the moment I was care free, a wandering minstrel, like some +troubadour of old, care free and happy in my song. I forgot the black +shadow under which we all lay in that smiling land, the black shadow +of war in which I sang. + +It delighted me to see those old peasants and to study their faces, +and to try to win them with my song. They could not understand a word +I sang, and yet I saw the smiles breaking out over their wrinkled +faces, and it made me proud and happy. For it was plain that I was +reaching them--that I was able to throw a bridge over the gap of a +strange tongue and an alien race. When I had done and it was plain I +meant to sing no more they clapped me. + +"There's a hand for you, Harry," said Adam. "Aye--and I'm proud of +it!" I told him for reply. + +I was almost sorry when I saw that the two chauffeurs had finished +their repairs and were ready to go on. But I told them to lash the +piano back in its place, and Johnson prepared to climb gingerly back +among his cigarettes. But just then something happened that I had not +expected. + +There was a turn in the road just beyond us that hid its continuation +from us. And around the bend now there came a company of soldiers. +Not neat and well-appointed soldiers these. Ah, no! They were fresh +from the trenches, on their way back to rest. The mud and grime of +the trenches were upon them. They were tired and weary, and they +carried all their accoutrements and packs with them. Their boots were +heavy with mud. And they looked bad, and many of them shaky. Most of +these men, Godfrey told me after a glance at them, had been ordered +back to hospital for minor ailments. They were able to march, but not +much more. + +They were the first men I had seen in such a case, They looked bad +enough, but Godfrey said they were happy enough. Some of them would +get leave for Blighty, and be home, in a few days, to see their +families and their girls. And they came swinging along in fine style, +sick and tired as they were, for the thought of where they were going +cheered them and helped to keep them going. + +A British soldier, equipped for the trenches, on his way in or out, +has quite a load to carry. He has his pack, and his emergency ration, +and his entrenching tools, and extra clothing that he needs in bad +weather in the trenches, to say nothing of his ever-present rifle. +And the sight of them made me realize for the first time the truth +that lay behind the jest in a story that is one of Tommy's favorites. + +A child saw a soldier in heavy marching order. She gazed at him in +wide-eyed wonder. He was not her idea of what a soldier should look +like. + +"Mother," she asked, "what is a soldier for?" + +The mother gazed at the man. And then she smiled. + +"A soldier," she answered, "is to hang things on." + +They eyed me very curiously as they came along, those sick laddies. +They couldn't seem to understand what I was doing there, but their +discipline held them. They were in charge of a young lieutenant with +one star--a second lieutenant. I learned later that he was a long way +from being a well man himself. So I stopped him. "Would your men like +to hear a few songs, lieutenant?" I asked him. + +He hesitated. He didn't quite understand, and he wasn't a bit sure +what his duty was in the circumstances. He glanced at Godfrey, and +Godfrey smiled at him as if in encouragement. + +"It's very good of you, I'm sure," he said, slowly. "Fall out!" + +So the men fell out, and squatted there, along the wayside. At once +discipline was relaxed. Their faces were a study as the wee piano was +set up again, and Johnson, in uniform, of course sat down and trued a +chord or two. And then suddenly something happened that broke the +ice. Just as I stood up to sing a loud voice broke the silence. + +"Lor' love us!" one of the men cried, "if it ain't old 'Arry Lauder!" + +There was a stir of interest at once. I spotted the owner of the +voice. It was a shriveled up little chap, with a weazened face that +looked like a sun-dried apple. He was showing all his teeth in a grin +at me, and he was a typical little cockney of the sort all Londoners +know well. + +"Go it, 'Arry!" he shouted, shrilly. "Many's the time h' I've 'eard +you at the old Shoreditch!" + +So I went it as well as I could, and I never did have a more +appreciative audience. My little cockney friend seemed to take a +particular personal pride in me. I think he thought he had found me, +and that he was, in an odd way, responsible for my success with his +mates. And so he was especially glad when they cheered me and thanked +me as they did. + +My concert didn't last long, for we had to be getting on, and the +company of sick men had just so much time, too, to reach their +destination--Boulogne, whence we had set out. When it was over I said +good-by to the men, and shook hands with particular warmth with the +little cockney. It wasn't every day I was likely to meet a man who +had often heard me at the old Shoreditch! After we had stowed Johnson +and the piano away again, with a few less cigarettes, now, to get in +Johnson's way, we started, and as long as we were in sight the little +cockney and I were waving to one another. + +I took some of the cigarettes into the car I was in now. And as we +sped along we were again in the thick of the great British war +machine. Motor trucks and ambulances were more frequent than ever, +and it was a common occurrence now to pass soldiers, marching in both +directions--to the front and away from it. There was always some-one +to recognize me and start a volley of "Hello, Harrys" coming my way, +and I answered every greeting, you may be sure, and threw cigarettes +to go with my "Hellos." + +Aye, I was glad I had brought the cigarettes! They seemed to be even +more welcome than I had hoped they would be, and I only wondered how +long the supply would hold out, and if I would be able to get more if +it did not. So Johnson, little by little, was getting more room, as I +called for more and more of the cigarettes that walled him in in his +tonneau. + +About noon, as we drove through a little town, I saw, for the first +time, a whole flock of airplanes riding the sky. They were swooping +about like lazy hawks, and a bonnie sight they were. I drew a long +breath when I saw them, and turned to my friend Adam. + +"Well," I said, "I think we're coming to it, now!" + +I meant the front--the real, British front. + +Suddenly, at a sharp order from Captain Godfrey, our cars stopped. He +turned around to us, and grinned, very cheerfully. + +"Gentlemen," he said, very calmly, "we'll stop here long enough to +put on our steel helmets." + +He said it just as he might have said: "Well, here's where we will +stop for tea." + +It meant no more than that to him. But for me it meant many things. +It meant that at last I was really to be under fire; that I was going +into danger. I was not really frightened yet; you have to see danger, +and know just what it is, and appreciate exactly its character, +before you can be frightened. But I had imagination enough to know +what that order meant, and to have a queer feeling as I donned the +steel helmet. It was less uncomfortable than I had expected it to +be--lighter, and easier to wear. The British trench helmets are +beautifully made, now; as in every other phase of the war and its +work they represent a constant study for improvement, lightening. + +But, even had it not been for the warning that was implied in Captain +Godfrey's order, I should soon have understood that we had come into +a new region. For a long time now the noise of the guns had been +different. Instead of being like distant thunder it was a much nearer +and louder sound. It was a steady, throbbing roar now. + +And, at intervals, there came a different sound; a sound more +individual, that stood out from the steady roar. It was as if the air +were being cracked apart by the blow of some giant hammer. I knew +what it was. Aye, I knew. You need no man to tell you what it is--the +explosion of a great shell not so far from you! + +Nor was it our ears alone that told us what was going on. Ever and +anon, now, ahead of us, as we looked at the fields, we saw a cloud of +dirt rise up. That was where a shell struck. And in the fields about +us, now, we could see holes, full of water, as a rule, and mounds of +dirt that did not look as if shovels and picks had raised them. + +It surprised me to see that the peasants were still at work. I spoke +to Godfrey about that. + +"The French peasants don't seem to know what it is to be afraid of +shell-fire," he said. "They go only when we make them. It is the same +on the French front. They will cling to a farmhouse in the zone of +fire until they are ordered out, no matter how heavily it may be +shelled. They are splendid folk! The Germans can never beat a race +that has such folk as that behind its battle line." + +I could well believe him. I have seen no sight along the whole front +more quietly impressive than the calm, impassive courage of those +French peasants. They know they are right! It is no Kaiser, no war +lord, who gives them courage. It is the knowledge and the +consciousness that they are suffering in a holy cause, and that, in +the end, the right and the truth must prevail. Their own fate, +whatever may befall them, does not matter. France must go on and +shall, and they do their humble part to see that she does and shall. + +Solemn thoughts moved me as we drove on. Here there had been real war +and fighting. Now I saw a country blasted by shell-fire and wrecked +by the contention of great armies. And I knew that I was coming to +soil watered by British blood; to rows of British graves; to soil +that shall be forever sacred to the memory of the Britons, from +Britain and from over the seas, who died and fought upon it to redeem +it from the Hun. + +I had no mind to talk, to ask questions. For the time I was content +to be with my own thoughts, that were evoked by the historic ground +through which we passed. My heart was heavy with grief and with the +memories of my boy that came flooding it, but it was lightened, too, +by other thoughts. + +And always, as we sped on, there was the thunder of the guns. Always +there were the bursting shells, and the old bent peasants paying no +heed to them. Always there were the circling airplanes, far above us, +like hawks against the deep blue of the sky. And always we came +nearer and nearer to Vimy Ridge--that deathless name in the history +of Britain. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Now Captain Godfrey leaned back and smiled at us. + +"There's Vimy Ridge," he said. And he pointed. + +"Yon?" I asked, in astonishment. + +I was almost disappointed. We had heard so much, in Britain and in +Scotland, of Vimy Ridge. The name of that famous hill had been +written imperishably in history. But to look at it first, to see it +as I saw it, it was no hill at all! My eyes were used to the +mountains of my ain Scotland, and this great ridge was but a tiny +thing beside them. But then I began to picture the scene as it had +been the day the Canadians stormed it and won for themselves the +glory of all the ages. I pictured it blotted from sight by the hell +of shells bursting over it, and raking its slopes as the Canadians +charged upward. I pictured it crowned by defenses and lined by such +of the Huns as had survived the artillery battering, spitting death +and destruction from their machine guns. And then I saw it as I +should, and I breathed deep at the thought of the men who had faced +death and hell to win that height and plant the flag of Britain upon +it. Aye, and the Stars and Stripes of America, too! + +Ye ken that tale? There was an American who had enlisted, like so +many of his fellow countrymen before America was in the war, in the +Canadian forces. The British army was full of men who had told a +white lie to don the King's uniform. Men there are in the British +army who winked as they enlisted and were told: "You'll be a +Canadian?" + +"Aye, aye, I'm a Canadian," they'd say. "From what province?" + +"The province of Kentucky--or New York--or California!" + +Well, there was a lad, one of them, was in the first wave at Vimy +Ridge that April day in 1917. 'Twas but a few days before that a wave +of the wildest cheering ever heard had run along the whole Western +front, so that Fritz in his trenches wondered what was up the noo. +Well, he has learned, since then! He has learned, despite his Kaiser +and his officers, and his lying newspapers, that that cheer went up +when the news came that America had declared war upon Germany. And +so, it was a few days after that cheer was heard that the Canadians +leaped over the top and went for Vimy Ridge, and this young fellow +from America had a wee silken flag. He spoke to his officer. + +"Now that my own country's in the war, sir," he said, "I'd like to +carry her flag with me when we go over the top. Wrapped around me, +sir--" + +"Go it!" said the officer. + +And so he did. And he was one of those who won through and reached +the top. There he was wounded, but he had carried the Stars and +Stripes with him to the crest. + +Vimy Ridge! I could see it. And above it, and beyond it, now, for the +front had been carried on, far beyond, within what used to be the +lines of the Hun, the airplanes circled. Very quiet and lazy they +seemed, for all I knew of their endless activity and the precious +work that they were doing. I could see how the Huns were shelling +them. You would see an airplane hovering, and then, close by, +suddenly, a ball of cottony white smoke. Shrapnel that was, bursting, +as Fritz tried to get the range with an anti-aircraft gun--an Archie, +as the Tommies call them. But the plane would pay no heed, except, +maybe, to dip a bit or climb a little higher to make it harder for +the Hun. It made me think of a man shrugging his shoulders, calmly +and imperturbably, in the face of some great peril, and I wanted to +cheer. I had some wild idea that maybe he would hear me, and know +that someone saw him, and appreciated what he was doing--someone to +whom it was not an old story! But then I smiled at my own thought. + +Now it was time for us to leave the cars and get some exercise. Our +steel helmets were on, and glad we were of them, for shrapnel was +bursting nearby sometimes, although most of the shells were big +fellows, that buried themselves in the ground and then exploded. +Fritz wasn't doing much casual shelling the noo, though. He was +saving his fire until his observers gave him a real target to aim at. +But that was no so often, for our airplanes were in command of the +air then, and his flyers got precious little chance to guide his +shooting. Most of his hits were due to luck. + +"Spread out a bit as you go along here," said Captain Godfrey. "If a +crump lands close by there's no need of all of us going! If we're +spread out a bit, you see, a shell might get one and leave the rest +of us." + +It sounded cold blooded, but it was not. To men who have lived at the +front everything comes to be taken as a matter of course. Men can get +used to anything--this war has proved that again, if there was need +of proving it. And I came to understand that, and to listen to things +I heard with different ears. But those are things no one can tell you +of; you must have been at the front yourself to understand all that +goes on there, both in action and in the minds of men. + +We obeyed Captain Godfrey readily enough, as you can guess. And so I +was alone as I walked toward Vimy Ridge. It looked just like a lumpy +excrescence on the landscape; at hame we would not even think of it +as a foothill. But as I neared it, and as I rememered all it stood +for, I thought that in the atlas of history it would loom higher than +the highest peak of the great Himalaya range. + +Beyond the ridge, beyond the actual line of the trenches, miles away, +indeed, were the German batteries from which the shells we heard and +saw as they burst were coming. I was glad of my helmet, and of the +cool assurance of Captain Godfrey. I felt that we were as safe, in +his hands, as men could be in such a spot. + +It was not more than a mile we had to cover, but it was rough going, +bad going. Here war had had its grim way without interruption. The +face of the earth had been cut to pieces. Its surface had been +smashed to a pulpy mass. The ground had been plowed, over and over, +by a rain of shells--German and British. What a planting there had +been that spring, and what a plowing! A harvest of death it had been +that had been sown--and the reaper had not waited for summer to come, +and the Harvest moon. He had passed that way with his scythe, and +where we passed now he had taken his terrible, his horrid, toll. + +At the foot of the ridge I saw men fighting for the first time-- +actually fighting, seeking to hurt an enemy. It was a Canadian +battery we saw, and it was firing, steadily and methodically, at the +Huns. Up to now I had seen only the vast industrial side of war, its +business and its labor. Now I was, for the first time, in touch with +actual fighting. I saw the guns belching death and destruction, +destined for men miles away. It was high angle fire, of course, +directed by observers in the air. + +But even that seemed part of the sheer, factory-like industry of war. +There was no passion, no coming to grips in hot blood, here. Orders +were given by the battery commander and the other officers as the +foreman in a machine shop might give them. And the busy artillerymen +worked like laborers, too, clearing their guns after a salvo, loading +them, bringing up fresh supplies of ammunition. It was all +methodical, all a matter of routine. + +"Good artillery work is like that," said Captain Godfrey, when I +spoke to him about it. "It's a science. It's all a matter of the +higher mathematics. Everything is worked out to half a dozen places +of decimals. We've eliminated chance and guesswork just as far as +possible from modern artillery actions." + +But there was something about it all that was disappointing, at first +sight. It let you down a bit. Only the guns themselves kept up the +tradition. Only they were acting as they should, and showing a proper +passion and excitement. I could hear them growling ominously, like +dogs locked in their kennel when they would be loose and about, and +hunting. And then they would spit, angrily. They inflamed my +imagination, did those guns; they satisfied me and my old-fashioned +conception of war and fighting, more than anything else that I had +seen had done. And it seemed to me that after they had spit out their +deadly charge they wiped their muzzles with red tongues of flame, +satisfied beyond all words or measure with what they had done. + +We were rising now, as we walked, and getting a better view of the +country that lay beyond. And so I came to understand a little better +the value of a height even so low and insignificant as Vimy Ridge in +that flat country. While the Germans held it they could overlook all +our positions, and all the advantage of natural placing had been to +them. Now, thanks to the Canadians, it was our turn, and we were +looking down. + +Weel, I was under fire. There was no doubt about it. There was a +droning over us now, like the noise bees make, or many flies in a +small room on a hot summer's day. That was the drone of the German +shells. There was a little freshening of the artillery activity on +both sides, Captain Godfrey said, as if in my honor. When one side +increased its fire the other always answered--played copy cat. There +was no telling, ye ken, when such an increase of fire might not be +the first sign of an attack. And neither side took more chances than +it must. + +I had known, before I left Britain, that I would come under fire. And +I had wondered what it would be like: I had expected to be afraid, +nervous. Brave men had told me, one after another, that every man is +afraid when he first comes under fire. And so I had wondered how I +would be, and I had expected to be badly scared and extremely +nervous. Now I could hear that constant droning of shells, and, in +the distance, I could see, very often, powdery squirts of smoke and +dirt along the ground, where our shells were striking, so that I knew +I had the Hun lines in sight. + +And I can truthfully say that, that day, at least, I felt no great +fear or nervousness. Later I did, as I shall tell you, but that day +one overpowering emotion mastered every other. It was a desire for +vengeance! You were the Huns--the men who had killed my boy. They +were almost within my reach. And as I looked at them there in their +lines a savage desire possessed me, almost overwhelmed me, indeed, +that made me want to rush to those guns and turn them to my own mad +purpose of vengeance. + +It was all I could do, I tell you, to restrain myself--to check that +wild, almost ungovernable impulse to rush to the guns and grapple +with them myself--myself fire them at the men who had killed my boy. +I wanted to fight! I wanted to fight with my two hands--to tear and +rend, and have the consciousness that I flash back, like a telegraph +message from my satiated hands to my eager brain that was spurring me on. + +But that was not to be. I knew it, and I grew calmer, presently. The +roughness of the going helped me to do that, for it took all a man's +wits and faculties to grope his way along the path we were following +now. Indeed, it was no path at all that led us to the Pimple--the +topmost point of Vimy Ridge, which changed hands half a dozen times +in the few minutes of bloody fighting that had gone on here during +the great attack. + +The ground was absolutely riddled with shell holes here. There must +have been a mine of metal underneath us. What path there was +zigzagged around. It had been worn to such smoothness as it possessed +since the battle, and it evaded the worst craters by going around +them. My madness was passed now, and a great sadness had taken its +place. For here, where I was walking, men had stumbled up with +bullets and shells raining about them. At every step I trod ground +that must have been the last resting-place of some Canadian soldier, +who had died that I might climb this ridge in a safety so +immeasurably greater than his had been. + +If it was hard for us to make this climb, if we stumbled as we walked, +what had it been for them? Our breath came hard and fast--how had it +been with them? Yet they had done it! They had stormed the ridge the +Huns had proudly called impregnable. They had taken, in a swift rush, +that nothing could stay, a position the Kaiser's generals had assured +him would never be lost--could never be reached by mortal troops. + +The Pimple, for which we were heading now, was an observation post at +that time. There there was a detachment of soldiers, for it was an +important post, covering much of the Hun territory beyond. A major of +infantry was in command; his headquarters were a large hole in the +ground, dug for him by a German shell--fired by German gunners who had +no thought further from their minds than to do a favor for a British +officer. And he was sitting calmly in front of his headquarters, +smoking a pipe, when we reached the crest and came to the Pimple. + +He was a very calm man, that major, given, I should say, to the +greatest repression. I think nothing would have moved him from that +phlegmatic calm of his! He watched us coming, climbing and making +hard going of it. If he was amused he gave no sign, as he puffed at +his pipe. I, for one, was puffing, too--I was panting like a grampus. +I had thought myself in good condition, but I found out at Vimy Ridge +that I was soft and flabby. + +Not a sign did that major give until we reached him. And then, as we +stood looking at him, and beyond him at the panorama of the trenches, +he took his pipe from his mouth. + +"Welcome to Vimy Ridge!" he said, in the manner of a host greeting a +party bidden for the weekend. + +I was determined that that major should not outdo me. I had precious +little wind left to breathe with, much less to talk, but I called for +the last of it. + +"Thank you, major," I said. "May I join you in a smoke?" + +"Of course you can!" he said, unsmiling. + +"That is, if you've brought your pipe with you." "Aye, I've my pipe," +I told him. "I may forget to pay my debt, but I'll never forget my +pipe." And no more I will. + +So I sat down beside him, and drew out my pipe, and made a long +business of filling it, and pushing the tobacco down just so, since +that gave me a chance to get my wind. And when I was ready to light +up I felt better, and I was breathing right, so that I could talk as +I pleased without fighting for breath. + +My friend the major proved an entertaining chap, and a talkative one, +too, for all his seeming brusqueness. He pointed out the spots that +had been made famous in the battle, and explained to me what it was +the Canadians had done. And I saw and understood better than ever +before what a great feat that had been, and how heavily it had +counted. He lent me his binoculars, too, and with them I swept the +whole valley toward Lens, where the great French coal mines are, and +where the Germans have been under steady fire so long, and have been +hanging on by their eyelashes. + +It was not the place I should choose, ordinarily, to do a bit of +sight-seeing. The German shells were still humming through the air +above us, though not quite so often as they had. But there were +enough of them, and they seemed to me close enough for me to feel the +wind they raised as they passed. I thought for sure one of them would +come along, presently, and clip my ears right off. And sometimes I +felt myself ducking my head--as if that would do me any good! But I +did not think about it; I would feel myself doing it, without having +intended to do anything of the sort. I was a bit nervous, I suppose, +but no one could be really scared or alarmed in the unplumbable +depths of calm in which that British major was plunged! + +It was a grand view I had of the valley, but it was not the sort of +thing I had expected to see. I knew there were thousands of men +there, and I think I had expected to see men really fighting. But +there was nothing of the sort. Not a man could I see in all the +valley. They were under cover, of course. When I stopped to think +about it, that was what I should have expected, of course. If I could +have seen our laddies there below, why, the Huns could have seen them +too. And that would never have done. + +I could hear our guns, too, now, very well. They were giving voice +all around me, but never a gun could I see, for all my peering and +searching around. Even the battery we had passed below was out of +sight now. And it was a weird thing, and an uncanny thing to think of +all that riot of sound around, and not a sight to be had of the +batteries that were making it! + +Hogge came up while I was talking to the major. "Hello!" he said. +"What have you done to your knee, Lauder?" + +I looked down and saw a trickle of blood running down, below my knee. +It was bare, of course, because I wore my kilt. + +"Oh, that's nothing," I said. + +I knew at once what it was. I remembered that, as I stumbled up the +hill, I had tripped over a bit of barbed wire and scratched my leg. +And so I explained. + +"And I fell into a shell-hole, too," I said. "A wee one, as they go +around here." But I laughed. "Still, I'll be able to say I was +wounded on Vimy Ridge." + +I glanced at the major as I said that, and was half sorry I had made +the poor jest. And I saw him smile, in one corner of his mouth, as I +said I had been "wounded." It was the corner furthest from me, but I +saw it. And it was a dry smile, a withered smile. I could guess his +thought. + +"Wounded!" he must have said to himself, scornfully. And he must have +remembered the real wounds the Canadians had received on that +hillside. Aye, I could guess his thought. And I shared it, although I +did not tell him so. But I think he understood. + +He was still sitting there, puffing away at his old pipe, as quiet +and calm and imperturbable as ever, when Captain Godfrey gathered us +together to go on. He gazed out over the valley. + +He was a man to be remembered for a long time, that major. I can see +him now, in my mind's eye, sitting there, brooding, staring out +toward Lens and the German lines. And I think that if I were choosing +a figure for some great sculptor to immortalize, to typify and +represent the superb, the majestic imperturbability of the British +Empire in time of stress and storm, his would be the one. I could +think of no finer figure than his for such a statue. You would see +him, if the sculptor followed my thought, sitting in front of his +shell-hole on Vimy Ridge, calm, dispassionate, devoted to his duty +and the day's work, quietly giving the directions that guided the +British guns in their work of blasting the Hun out of the refuge he +had chosen when the Canadians had driven him from the spot where the +major sat. + +It was easier going down Vimy Ridge than it had been coming up, but +it was hard going still. We had to skirt great, gaping holes torn by +monstrous shells--shells that had torn the very guts out of the +little hill. + +"We're going to visit another battery," said Captain Godfrey. "I'll +tell you I think it's the best hidden battery on the whole British +front! And that's saying a good deal, for we've learned a thing or +two about hiding our whereabouts from Fritz. He's a curious one, +Fritz is, but we try not to gratify his curiosity any more than we +must." + +"I'll be glad to see more of the guns," I said. + +"Well, here you'll see more than guns. The major in command at this +battery we're heading for has a decoration that was given to him just +for the way he hid his guns. There's much more than fighting that a +man has to do in this war if he's to make good." + +As we went along I kept my eyes open, trying to get a peep at the +guns before Godfrey should point them out to me. I could hear firing +going on all around me, but there was so much noise that my ears were +not a guide. I was not a trained observer, of course; I would not +know a gun position at sight, as some soldier trained to the work +would be sure to do. And yet I thought I could tell when I was coming +to a great battery. I thought so, I say! + +Again, though I had that feeling of something weird and uncanny. For +now, as we walked along, I did hear the guns, and I was sure, from +the nature of the sound, that we were coming close to them. But, as I +looked straight toward the spot where my ears told me that they must +be, I could see nothing at all. I thought that perhaps Godfrey had +lost his way, and that we were wandering along the wrong path. It did +not seem likely, but it was possible. + +And then, suddenly, when I was least expecting it, we stopped. + +"Well--here we are!" said the captain, and grinned at our amazement. + +And there we were indeed! We were right among the guns of a Canadian +battery, and the artillerymen were shouting their welcome, for they +had heard that I was coming, and recognized me as soon as they saw +me. But--how had we got here? I looked around me, in utter amazement. +Even now that I had come to the battery I could not understand how it +was that I had been deceived--how that battery had been so marvelously +concealed that, if one did not know of its existence and of its exact +location, one might literally stumble over it in broad daylight! + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +It had turned very hot, now, at the full of the day. Indeed, it was +grilling weather, and there in the battery, in a hollow, close down +beside a little run or stream, it was even hotter than on the +shell-swept bare top of the ridge. So the Canadian gunners had +stripped down for comfort. Not a man had more than his under-shirt on +above his trousers, and many of them were naked to the waist, with +their hide tanned to the color of old saddles. + +These laddies reminded me of those in the first battery I had seen. +They were just as calm, and just as dispassionate as they worked in +their mill--it might well have been a mill in which I saw them +working. Only they were no grinding corn, but death--death for the +Huns, who had brought death to so many of their mates. But there was +no excitement, there were no cries of hatred and anger. + +They were hard at work. Their work, it seemed, never came to an end +or even to a pause. The orders rang out, in a sort of sing-song +voice. After each shot a man who sat with a telephone strapped about +his head called out corrections of the range, in figures that were +just a meaningless jumble to me, although they made sense to the men +who listened and changed the pointing of the guns at each order. + +[ILLUSTRATION: Capt. John Lauder and Comrades Before The Trenches In +France (See Lauder07.jpg)] + +Their faces, that, like their bare backs and chests, looked like +tanned leather, were all grimy from their work among the smoke and +the gases. And through the grime the sweat had run down like little +rivers making courses for themselves in the soft dirt of a hillside. +They looked grotesque enough, but there was nothing about them to +make me feel like laughing, I can tell you! And they all grinned +amiably when the amazed and disconcerted Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., +Tour came tumbling in among them. We all felt right at hame at once-- +and I the more so when a chap I had met and come to know well in +Toronto during one of my American tours came over and gripped my hand. + +"Aye, but it's good to see your face, Harry!" he said, as he made +me welcome. + +This battery had done great work ever since it had come out. No +battery in the whole army had a finer record, I was told. And no one +needed to tell me the tale of its losses. Not far away there was a +little cemetery, filled with doleful little crosses, set up over +mounds that told their grim story all too plainly and too eloquently. + +The battery had gone through the Battle of Vimy Ridge and made a +great name for itself. And now it was set down upon a spot that had +seen some of the very bloodiest of the fighting on that day. I saw +here, for the first time, some of the most horrible things that the +war holds. There was a little stream, as I said, that ran through the +hollow in which the battery was placed, and that stream had been +filled with blood, not water, on the day of the battle. + +Everywhere, here, were whitened bones of men. In the wild swirling of +the battle, and the confusion of digging in and meeting German +counter attacks that had followed it, it had not been possible to +bury all the dead. And so the whitened bones remained, though the +elements had long since stripped them bare. The elements--and the +hungry rats. These are not pretty things to tell, but they are true, +and the world should know what war is to-day. + +I almost trod upon one skeleton that remained complete. It was that +of a huge German soldier--a veritable giant of a man, he must have +been. The bones of his feet were still encased in his great boots, +their soles heavily studded with nails. Even a few shreds of his +uniform remained. But the flesh was all gone. The sun and the rats +and the birds had accounted for the last morsel of it. + +Hundreds of years from now, I suppose, the bones that were strewn +along that ground will still be being turned up by plows. The +generations to come who live there will never lack relics of the +battle, and of the fighting that preceded and followed it. They will +find bones, and shell cases, and bits of metal of all sorts. Rusty +bayonets will be turned up by their plowshares; strange coins, as +puzzling as some of those of Roman times that we in Britain have +found, will puzzle them. Who can tell how long it will be before the +soil about Vimy Ridge will cease to give up its relics? + +That ground had been searched carefully for everything that might +conceivably be put to use again, or be made fit for further service. +The British army searches every battlefield so in these days. And +yet, when I was there, many weeks after the storm of fighting had +passed on, and when the scavengers had done their work, the ground +was still rather thickly strewn with odds and ends that interested me +vastly. I might have picked up much more than I did. But I could not +carry so very much, and, too, so many of the things brought grisly +thoughts to my mind! God knows I needed no reminders of the war! I +had a reminder in my heart, that never left me. Still, I took some +few things, more for the sake of the hame folks, who might not see, +and would, surely, be interested. I gathered some bayonets for my +collection--somehow they seemed the things I was most willing to take +along. One was British, one German--two were French. + +But the best souvenir of all I got at Vimy Ridge I did not pick up. +It was given to me by my friend, the grave major--him of whom I would +like some famous sculptor to make a statue as he sat at his work of +observation. That was a club--a wicked looking instrument. This club +had a great thick head, huge in proportion to its length and size, +and this head was studded with great, sharp nails. A single blow from +it would finish the strongest man that ever lived. It was a fit +weapon for a murderer--and a murderer had wielded it. The major had +taken it from a Hun, who had meant to use it--had, doubtless, used +it!--to beat out the brains of wounded men, lying on the ground. Many +of those clubs were taken from the Germans, all along the front, both +by the British and the French, and the Germans had never made any +secret of the purpose for which they were intended. Well, they picked +poor men to try such tactics on when they went against the Canadians! + +The Canadians started no such work, but they were quick to adopt a +policy of give and take. It was the Canadians who began the trench +raids for which the Germans have such a fierce distaste, and after +they had learned something of how Fritz fought the Canadians took to +paying him back in some of his own coin. Not that they matched the +deeds of the Huns--only a Hun could do that. But the Canadians were +not eager to take prisoners. They would bomb a dugout rather than +take its occupants back. And a dugout that has been bombed yields few +living men! + +Who shall blame them? Not I--nor any other man who knows what lessons +in brutality and treachery the Canadians have had from the Hun. It was +the Canadians, near Ypres, who went through the first gas attack--that +fearful day when the Germans were closer to breaking through than they +ever were before or since. I shall not set down here all the tales I +heard of the atrocities of the Huns. Others have done that. Men have +written of that who have firsthand knowledge, as mine cannot be. I +know only what has been told to me, and there is little need of hearsay +evidence. There is evidence enough that any court would accept as hanging +proof. But this much it is right to say--that no troops along the Western +front have more to revenge than have the Canadians. + +It is not the loss of comrades, dearly loved though they be, that +breeds hatred among the soldiers. That is a part of war, and always +was. The loss of friends and comrades may fire the blood. It may lead +men to risk their own lives in a desperate charge to get even. But it +is a pain that does not rankle and that does not fester like a sore +that will not heal. It is the tales the Canadians have to tell of +sheer, depraved torture and brutality that has inflamed them to the +pitch of hatred that they cherish. It has seemed as if the Germans +had a particular grudge against the Canadians. And that, indeed, is +known to be the case. The Germans harbored many a fond illusion before +the war. They thought that Britain would not fight, first of all. + +And then, when Britain did declare war, they thought they could +speedily destroy her "contemptible little army." Ah, weel--they did +come near to destroying it! But not until it had helped to balk them +of their desire--not until it had played its great and decisive part +in ruining the plans the Hun had been making and perfecting for +forty-four long years. And not until it had served as a dyke behind +which floods of men in the khaki of King George had had time to arm +and drill to rush out to oppose the gray-green floods that had swept +through helpless Belgium. + +They had other illusions, beside that major one that helped to wreck +them. They thought there would be a rebellion and civil war in +Ireland. They took too seriously the troubles of the early summer of +1914, when Ulster and the South of Ireland were snapping and snarling +at each other's throats. They looked for a new mutiny in India, which +should keep Britain's hands full. They expected strikes at home. But, +above all, they were sure that the great, self-governing dependencies +of Britain, that made up the mighty British Empire, would take no +part in the fight. + +Canada, Australasia, South Africa--they never reckoned upon having to +cope with them. These were separate nations, they thought, +independent in fact if not in name, which would seize the occasion to +separate themselves entirely from the mother country. In South Africa +they were sure that there would be smoldering discontent enough left +from the days of the Boer war to break out into a new flame of war +and rebellion at this great chance. + +And so it drove them mad with fury when they learned that Canada and +all the rest had gone in, heart and soul. And when even their poison +gas could not make the Canadians yield; when, later still, they +learned that the Canadians were their match, and more than their +match, in every phase of the great game of war, their rage led them +to excesses against the men from overseas even more damnable than +those that were their general practice. + +These Canadians, who were now my hosts, had located their guns in a +pit triangular in shape. The guns were mounted at the corners of the +triangle, and along its sides. And constantly, while I was there they +coughed their short, sharp coughs and sent a spume of metal flying +toward the German lines. Never have I seen a busier spot. And, +remember--until I had almost fallen into that pit, with its +sputtering, busy guns, I had not been able to make even a good guess +as to where they were! The very presence of this workshop of death +was hidden from all save those who had a right to know of it. + +It was a masterly piece of camouflage. I wish I could explain to you +how the effect was achieved. It was all made plain to me; every step +of the process was explained, and I cried out in wonder and in +admiration at the clever simplicity of it. But that is one of the +things I may not tell. I saw many things, during my time at the +front, that the Germans would give a pretty penny to know. But none +of the secrets that I learned would be more valuable, even to-day, +than that of that hidden battery. And so--I must leave you in +ignorance as to that. + +The commanding officer was most kindly and patient in explaining +matters to me. + +"We can't see hide nor hair of our targets here, of course," he said, +"any more than Fritz can see us. We get all our ranges and the +records of all our hits, from Normabell." + +I looked a question, I suppose. + +"You called on him, I think--up on the Pimple. Major Normabell, D.S.O." + +That was how I learned the name of the imperturbable major with whom +I had smoked a pipe on the crest of Vimy Ridge. I shall always +remember his name and him. I saw no man in France who made a livelier +impression upon my mind and my imagination. + +"Aye," I said. "I remember. So that's his name--Normabell, D.S.O. +I'll make a note of that." + +My informant smiled. + +"Normabell's one of our characters," he said. "Well, you see he +commands a goodish bit of country there where he sits. And when he +needs them he has aircraft observations to help him, too. He's our +pair of eyes. We're like moles down here, we gunners--but he does all +our seeing for us. And he's in constant communication--he or one of +his officers." + +I wondered where all the shells the battery was firing were headed +for. And I learned that just then it was paying its respects +particularly to a big factory building just west of Lens. For some +reason that had been marked for destruction, but it had been +reinforced and strengthened so that it was taking a lot of smashing +and standing a good deal more punishment than anyone had thought it +could--which was reason enough, in itself, to stick to the job until +that factory was nothing more than a heap of dust and ruins. + +The way the guns kept pounding away at it made me think of firemen in +a small town drenching a local blaze with their hose. The gunners +were just so eager as that. And I could almost see that factory, +crumbling away. Major Normabell had pointed it out to me, up on the +ridge, and now I knew why. I'll venture to say that before night the +eight-inch howitzers of that battery had utterly demolished it, and +so ended whatever usefulness it had had for the Germans. + +It was cruel business to be knocking the towns and factories of our +ally, France, to bits in the fashion that we were doing that day-- +there and at many another point along the front. The Huns are fond of +saying that much of the destruction in Northern France has been the +work of allied artillery. True enough--but who made that inevitable +And it was not our guns that laid waste a whole countryside before +the German retreat in the spring of 1917, when the Huns ran wild, +rooting up fruit trees, cutting down every other tree that could be +found, and doing every other sort of wanton damage and mischief their +hands could find to do. + +"Hard lines," said the battery commander. He shrugged his shoulders. +"No use trying to spare shells here, though, even on French towns. +The harder we smash them the sooner it'll be over. Look here, sir." + +He pointed out the men who sat, their telephone receivers strapped +over their ears. Each served a gun. In all that hideous din it was of +the utmost importance that they should hear correctly every word and +figure that came to them over the wire--a part of that marvelously +complete telephone and telegraph system that has been built for and +by the British army in France. + +"They get corrections on every shot," he told me. "The guns are +altered in elevation according to what they hear. The range is +changed, and the pointing, too. We never see old Fritz--but we know +he's getting the visiting cards we send him." + +They were amazingly calm, those laddies at the telephones. In all +that hideous, never-ending din, they never grew excited. Their voices +were calm and steady as they repeated the orders that came to them. I +have seen girls at hotel switchboards, expert operators, working with +conditions made to their order, who grew infinitely more excited at a +busy time, when many calls were coming in and going out. Those men +might have been at home, talking to a friend of their plans for an +evening's diversion, for all the nervousness or fussiness they showed. + +Up there, on the Pimple, I had seen Normabell, the eyes of the +battery. Here I was watching its ears. And, to finish the metaphor, +to work it out, I was listening to its voice. Its brazen tongues were +giving voice continually. The guns--after all, everything else led up +to them. They were the reason for all the rest of the machinery of +the battery, and it was they who said the last short word. + +There was a good deal of rough joking and laughter in the battery. +The Canadian gunners took their task lightly enough, though their +work was of the hardest--and of the most dangerous, too. But jokes +ran from group to group, from gun to gun. They were constantly +kidding one another, as an American would say, I think. If a +correction came for one gun that showed there had been a mistake in +sighting after the last orders--if, that is, the gunners, and not the +distant observers, were plainly at fault--there would be a +good-natured outburst of chaffing from all the others. + +But, though such a spirit of lightness prevailed, there was not a +moment of loafing. These men were engaged in a grim, deadly task, +and every once in a while I would catch a black, purposeful look +in a man's eyes that made me realize that, under all the light +talk and laughter there was a perfect realization of the truth. +They might not show, on the surface, that they took life and their +work seriously. Ah, no! They preferred, after the custom of their +race, to joke with death. + +And so they were doing quite literally. The Germans knew perfectly +well that there was a battery somewhere near the spot where I had +found my gunners. Only the exact location was hidden from them, and +they never ceased their efforts to determine that. Fritz's airplanes +were always trying to sneak over to get a look. An airplane was the +only means of detection the Canadians feared. No--I will not say they +feared it! The word fear did not exist for that battery! But it was +the only way in which there was a tolerable chance, even, for Fritz +to locate them, and, for the sake of the whole operation at that +point, as well as for their own interest, they were eager to avoid +that. + +German airplanes were always trying to sneak over, I say, but nearly +always our men of the Royal Flying Corps drove them back. We came as +close, just then, to having command of the air in that sector as any +army does these days. You cannot quite command or control the air. A +few hostile flyers can get through the heaviest barrage and the +staunchest air patrol. And so, every once in a while, an alarm would +sound, and all hands would crane their necks upward to watch an +airplane flying above with an iron cross painted upon its wings. + +Then, and, as a rule, then only, fire would cease for a few minutes. +There was far less chance of detection when the guns were still. At +the height at which our archies--so the anti-aircraft guns are called +by Tommy Atkins--forced the Boche to fly there was little chance of +his observers picking out this battery, at least, against the ground. +If the guns were giving voice that chance was tripled--and so they +stopped, at such times, until a British flyer had had time to engage +the Hun and either bring him down or send him scurrying for the safe +shelter behind his own lines. + +Fritz, in the air, liked to have the odds with him, as a rule. It was +exceptional to find a German flyer like Boelke who really went in for +single-handed duels in the air. As a rule they preferred to attack a +single plane with half a dozen, and so make as sure as they could of +victory at a minimum of risk. But that policy did not always work-- +sometimes the lone British flyer came out ahead, despite the odds +against him. + +There was a good deal of firing on general principles from Fritz. His +shells came wandering querulously about, striking on every side of +the battery. Occasionally, of course, there was a hit that was +direct, or nearly so. And then, as a rule, a new mound or two would +appear in the little cemetery, and a new set of crosses that, for a +few days, you might easily enough have marked for new because they +would not be weathered yet. But such hits were few and far between, +and they were lucky, casual shots, of which the Germans themselves +did not have the satisfaction of knowing. + +"Of course, if they get our range, really, and find out all about us, +we'll have to move," said the officer in command. "That would be a +bore, but it couldn't be helped. We're a fixed target, you see, as +soon as they know just where we are, and they can turn loose a +battery of heavy howitzers against us and clear us out of here in no +time. But we're pretty quick movers when we have to move! It's great +sport, in a way too, sometimes. We leave all the camouflage behind, +and some-times Fritz will spend a week shelling a position that was +moved away at the first shell that came as if it meant they really +were on to us." + +I wondered how a battery commander would determine the difference +between a casual hit and the first shell of a bombardment definitely +planned and accurately placed. + +"You can tell, as a rule, if you know the game," he said. "There'll +be searching shells, you see. There'll be one too far, perhaps. And +then, after a pretty exact interval, there'll be another, maybe a bit +short. Then one to the left--and then to the right. By that time +we're off as a rule--we don't wait for the one that will be scored a +hit! If you're quick, you see, you can beat Fritz to it by keeping +your eyes open, and being ready to move in a hurry when he's got a +really good argument to make you do it." + +But while I was there, while Fritz was inquisitive enough, his +curiosity got him nowhere. There were no casual hits, even, and there +was nothing to make the battery feel that it must be making ready for +a quick trek. + +Was that no a weird, strange game of hide and seek that I watched +being played at Vimy Ridge? It gave me the creeps, that idea of +battling with an enemy you could not see! It must be hard, at times, +I think, for, the gunners to realize that they are actually at war. +But, no--there is always the drone and the squawking of the German +shells, and the plop-plop, from time to time, as one finds its mark +in the mud nearby. But to think of shooting always at an enemy you +cannot see! + +It brought to my mind a tale I had heard at hame in Scotland. There +was a hospital in Glasgow, and there a man who had gone to see a +friend stopped, suddenly, in amazement, at the side of a cot. He +looked down at features that were familiar to him. The man in the cot +was not looking at him, and the visitor stood gaping, staring at him +in the utmost astonishment and doubt. + +"I say, man," he asked, at last, "are ye not Tamson, the baker?" + +The wounded man opened his eyes, and looked up, weakly. + +"Aye," he said. "I'm Tamson, the baker." His voice was weak, and he +looked tired. But he looked puzzled, too. + +"Weel, Tamson, man, what's the matter wi' ye?" asked the other. "I +didna hear that ye were sick or hurt. How comes it ye are here? Can +it be that ye ha' been to the war, man, and we not hearing of it, +at all?" + +"Aye, I think so," said Tamson, still weakly, but as if he were +rather glad of a chance to talk, at that. + +"Ye think so?" asked his friend, in greater astonishment than ever. +"Man, if ye've been to the war do ye not know it for sure and +certain?" + +"Well, I will tell ye how it is," said Tamson, very slowly and +wearily. "I was in the reserve, do ye ken. And I was standin' in +front of my hoose one day in August, thinkin' of nothin' at all. I +marked a man who was coming doon the street, wi' a blue paper in his +hand, and studyin' the numbers on the doorplates. But I paid no great +heed to him until he stopped and spoke to me. + +"He had stopped outside my hoose and looked at the number, and then +at his blue paper. And then he turned to me. + +"'Are ye Tamson, the baker?' he asked me--just as ye asked me that +same question the noo. + +"And I said to him, just as I said it to ye, 'Aye, I'm Tamson, +the baker.' + +"'Then it's Hamilton Barracks for ye, Tamson,' he said, and handed me +the blue paper. + +"Four hours from the time when he handed me the blue paper in front +of my hoose in Glasgow I was at Hamilton Barracks. In twelve hours I +was in Southhampton. In twenty hours I was in France. And aboot as +soon as I got there I was in a lot of shooting and running this way +and that that they ha' told me since was the Battle of the Marne. + +"And in twenty-four hours more I was on my way back to Glasgow! In +forty-eight hours I woke up in Stobe Hill Infirmary and the nurse was +saying in my ear: 'Ye're all richt the noon, Tamson. We ha' only just +amputated your leg!' + +"So I think I ha' been to the war, but I can only say I think so. I +only know what I was told--that ha' never seen a damn German yet!" + +That is a true story of Tamson the baker. And his experience has +actually been shared by many a poor fellow--and by many another who +might have counted himself lucky if he had lost no more than a leg, +as Tamson did. + +But the laddies of my battery, though they were shooting now at +Germans they could not see, had had many a close up view of Fritz in +the past, and expected many another in the future. Maybe they will +get one, some time, after the fashion of the company of which my boy +John once told me. + +The captain of this company--a Hieland company, it was, though not of +John's regiment--had spent must of his time in London before the war, +and belonged to several clubs, which, in those days, employed many +Germans as servants and waiters. He was a big man, and he had a deep, +bass voice, so that he roared like the bull of Bashan when he had a +mind to raise it for all to hear. + +One day things were dull in his sector. The front line trench was not +far from that of the Germans, but there was no activity beyond that +of the snipers, and the Germans were being so cautious that ours were +getting mighty few shots. The captain was bored, and so were the men. + +"How would you like a pot shot, lads?" he asked. + +"Fine!" came the answer. "Fine, sir!" + +"Very well," said the captain. "Get ready with your rifles, and keep +your eyes on you trench." + +It was not more than thirty yards away--pointblank range. The captain +waited until they were ready. And then his voice rang out in its +loudest, most commanding roar. + +"Waiter!" he shouted. + +Forty helmets popped up over the German parapet, and a storm of +bullets swept them away! + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +It was getting late--for men who had had so early a breakfast as we +had had to make to get started in good time. And just as I was +beginning to feel hungry--odd, it seemed to me, that such a thing as +lunch should stay in my mind in such surroundings and when so many +vastly more important things were afoot!--the major looked at his +wrist watch. + +"By Jove!" he said, "Lunch time! Gentlemen--you'll accept such +hospitality as we can offer you at our officer's mess?" + +There wasn't any question about acceptance! We all said we were +delighted, and we meant it. I looked around for a hut or some such +place, or even for a tent, and, seeing nothing of the sort, wondered +where we might be going to eat. I soon found out. The major led the +way underground, into a dugout. This was the mess. It was hard by the +guns, and in a hole that had been dug out, quit literally. Here there +was a certain degree of safety. In these dugouts every phase of the +battery's life except the actual serving of the guns went on. +Officers and men alike ate and slept in them. + +They were much snugger within than you might fancy. A lot of the men +had given homelike touches to their habitations. Pictures cut from +the illustrated papers at home, which are such prime favorites with +all the Tommies made up a large part of the decorative scheme. +Pictures of actresses predominated; the Tommies didn't go in for war +pictures. Indeed, there is little disposition to hammer the war home +at you in a dugout. The men don't talk about it or think about, save +as they must; you hear less talk about the war along the front than +you do at home. I heard a story at Vimy Ridge of a Tommy who had come +back to the trenches after seeing Blighty for the first time in +months. + +"Hello, Bill," said one of his mates. "Back again, are you? How's +things in Blighty?" "Oh, all right," said Bill. + +Then he looked around. He pricked his ears as a shell whined above +him. And he took out his pipe and stuffed it full of tobacco, and +lighted it, and sat back. He sighed in the deepest content as the +smoke began to curl upward. + +"Bli'me, Bill--I'd say, to look at you, you was glad to be back +here!" said his mate, astonished. + +"Well, I ain't so sorry, and that's a fact," said Bill. "I tell you +how it is, Alf. Back there in Blighty they don't talk about nothing +but this bloody war. I'm fair fed up with it, that I am! I'm glad to +be back here, where I don't have to 'ear about the war every bleedin' +minute!" + +That story sounds far fetched to you, perhaps, but it isn't. War talk +is shop talk to the men who are fighting it and winning it, and it is +perfectly true and perfectly reasonable, too, that they like to get +away from it when they can, just as any man likes to get away from +the thought of his business or his work when he isn't at the office +or the factory or the shop. + +Captain Godfrey explained to me, as we went into the mess hall for +lunch, that the dugouts were really pretty safe. Of course there were +dangers--where are there not along that strip of land that runs from +the North Sea to Switzerland in France and Belgium? + +"A direct hit from a big enough shell would bury us all," he said. +"But that's not likely--the chances are all against it. And, even +then, we'd have a chance. I've seen men dug out alive from a hole +like this after a shell from one of their biggest howitzers had +landed square upon it." + +But I had no anxiety to form part of an experiment to prove the truth +or the falsity of that suggestion! I was glad to know that the +chances of a shell's coming along were pretty slim. + +Conditions were primitive at that mess. The refinements of life were +lacking, to be sure--but who cared? Certainly the hungry members of +the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour did not! We ate from a rough +deal table, sitting on rude benches that had a decidedly home-made +look. But--we had music with our meals, just like the folks in London +at the Savoy or in New York at Sherry's! It was the incessant thunder +of the guns that served as the musical accompaniment of our lunch, +and I was already growing to love that music. I could begin, now, to +distinguish degrees of sound and modulations of all sorts in the +mighty diapason of the cannon. It was as if a conductor were leading +an orchestra, and as if it responded instantly to every suggestion of +his baton. + +There was not much variety to the food, but there was plenty of it, +and it was good. There was bully beef, of course; that is the real +staff of life for the British army. And there were potatoes, in +plentiful supply, and bread and butter, and tea--there is always tea +where Tommy or his officers are about! There was a lack of table +ware; a dainty soul might not have liked the thought of spreading his +butter on his bread with his thumb, as we had to do. But I was too +hungry to be fastidious, myself. + +Because the mess had guests there was a special dish in our honor. +One of the men had gone over--at considerable risk of his life, as I +learned later--to the heap of stones and dust that had once been the +village of Givenchy. There he had found a lot of gooseberries. The +French call them grossets, as we in Scotland do, too--although the +pronunciation of the word is different in the two languages, of +course. There had been gardens around the houses of Givenchy once, +before the place had been made into a desert of rubble and brickdust. +And, somehow, life had survived in those bruised and battered +gardens, and the delicious mess of gooseberries that we had for +dessert stood as proof thereof. + +The meal was seasoned by good talk. I love to hear the young British +officers talk. It is a liberal education. They have grown so wise, +those boys! Those of them who come back when the war is over will +have the world at their feet, indeed. Nothing will be able to stop +them or to check them in their rise. They have learned every great +lesson that a man must learn if he is to succeed in the affairs of +life. Self control is theirs, and an infinite patience, and a dogged +determination that refuses to admit that there are any things that a +man cannot do if he only makes up his mind that he must and will do +them. For the British army has accomplished the impossible, time +after time; it has done things that men knew could not be done. + +And so we sat and talked, as we smoked, after the meal, until the +major rose, at last, and invited me to walk around the battery again +with him. I could ask questions now, having seen the men at work, and +he explained many things I wanted to know--and which Fritz would like +to know, too, to this day! But above all I was fascinated by the work +of the gunners. I kept trying, in my mind's eye, to follow the course +of the shells that were dispatched so calmly upon their errands of +destruction. My imagination played with the thought of what they were +doing at the other end of their swift voyage through the air. I +pictured the havoc that must be wrought when one made a clean hit. + +And, suddenly, I was swept by that same almost irresistible desire to +be fighting myself that had come over me when I had seen the other +battery. If I could only play my part! If I could fire even a single +shot--if I, with my own hands, could do that much against those who +had killed my boy! And then, incredulously, I heard the words in my +ear. It was the major. + +"Would you like to try a shot, Harry?" he asked me. + +Would I? I stared at him. I couldn't believe my ears. It was as if he +had read my thoughts. I gasped out some sort of an affirmative. My +blood was boiling at the very thought, and the sweat started from my +pores. + +"All right--nothing easier!" said the major, smiling. "I had an idea +you were wanting to take a hand, Harry." + +He led me toward one of the guns, where the sweating crew was +especially active, as it seemed to me. They grinned at me as they saw +me coming. + +"Here's old Harry Lauder come to take a crack at them himself," I +heard one man say to another. + +"Good for him! The more the merrier!" answered his mate. He was an +American--would ye no know it from his speech? + +I was trembling with eagerness. I wondered if my shot would tell. I +tried to visualize its consequences. It might strike some vital spot. +It might kill some man whose life was of the utmost value to the +enemy. It might--it might do anything! And I knew that my shot would +be watched; Normabell, sitting up there on the Pimple in his little +observatory, would watch it, as he did all of that battery's shots. +Would be make a report? + +Everything was made ready. The gun recoiled from the previous shot; +swiftly it was swabbed out. A new shell was handed up; I looked it +over tenderly. That was my shell! I watched the men as they placed it +and saw it disappear with a jerk. Then came the swift sighting of the +gun, the almost inperceptible corrections of elevation and position. + +They showed me my place. After all, it was the simplest of matters to +fire even the biggest of guns. I had but to pull a lever. All morning +I had been watching men do that. I knew it was but a perfunctory act. +But I could not feel that! I was thrilled and excited as I had never +been in all my life before. + +"All ready! Fire!" + +The order rang in my ears. And I pulled the lever, as hard as I +could. The great gun sprang into life as I moved the lever. I heard +the roar of the explosion, and it seemed to me that it was a louder +bark than any gun I had heard had given! It was not, of course, and +so, down in my heart, I knew. There was no shade of variation between +that shot and all the others that had been fired. But it pleased me +to think so--it pleases me, sometimes, to think so even now. Just as +it pleases me to think that that long snouted engine of war propelled +that shell, under my guiding hand, with unwonted accuracy and +effectiveness! Perhaps I was childish, to feel as I did; indeed, I +have no doubt that that was so. But I dinna care! + +There was no report by telephone from Normabell about that particular +shot; I hung about a while, by the telephone listeners, hoping one +would come. And it disappointed me that no attention was paid to +that shot. + +"Probably simply means it went home," said Godfrey. "A shot that acts +just as it should doesn't get reported." + +But I was disappointed, just the same. And yet the sensation is one I +shall never forget, and I shall never cease to be glad that the major +gave me my chance. The most thrilling moment was that of the recoil +of the great gun. I felt exactly as one does when one dives into deep +water from a considerable height. + +"Good work, Harry!" said the major, warmly, when I had stepped down. +"I'll wager you wiped out a bit of the German trenches with that +shot! I think I'll draft you and keep you here as a gunner!" + +And the officers and men all spoke in the same way, smiling as they +did so. But I hae me doots! I'd like to think I did real damage with +my one shot, but I'm afraid my shell was just one of those that +turned up a bit of dirt and made one of those small brown eruptions I +had seen rising on all sides along the German lines as I had sat and +smoked my pipe with Normabell earlier in the day. + +"Well, anyway," I said, exultingly, "that's that! I hope I got two +for my one, at least!" + +But my exultation did not last long. I reflected upon the +inscrutability of war and of this deadly fighting that was going on +all about me. How casual a matter was this sending out of a shell +that could, in a flash of time, obliterate all that lived in a wide +circle about where it chanced to strike! The pulling of a lever--that +was all that I had done! And at any moment a shell some German gunner +had sent winging its way through the air in precisely that same, +casual fashion might come tearing into this quiet nook, guided by +some chance, lucky for him, and wipe out the major, and all the +pleasant boys with whom I had broken bread just now, and the sweating +gunners who had cheered me on as I fired my shot! + +I was to give a concert for this battery, and I felt that it was +time, now, for it to begin. I could see, too, that the men were +growing a bit impatient. And so I said that I was ready. + +"Then come along to our theater," said the major, and grinned at my +look of astonishment. + +"Oh, we've got a real amphitheater for you, such as the Greeks used +for the tragedies of Sophocles!" he said. "There it is!" + +He had not stretched the truth. It was a superb theater--a great, +crater-like hole in the ground. Certainly it was as well ventilated a +show house as you could hope for, and I found, when the time came, +that the acoustics were splendid. I went down into the middle of the +hole, with Hogge and Adam, who had become part of my company, and the +soldiers grouped themselves about its rim. + +Before we left Boulogne a definite programme had been laid out for +the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour. We had decided that we would +get better results by adopting a programme and sticking to it at all +our meetings or concerts. So, at all the assemblies that we gathered, +Hogge opened proceedings by talking to the men about pensions, the +subject in which he was so vitally interested, and in which he had +done and was doing such magnificent work. Adam would follow him with +a talk about the war and its progress. + +He was a splendid speaker, was Adam. He had all the eloquence of the +fine preacher that he was, but he did not preach to the lads in the +trenches--not he! He told them about the war, and about the way the +folks at hame in Britain were backing them up. He talked about war +loans and food conservation, and made them understand that it was not +they alone who were doing the fighting. It was a cheering and an +inspiring talk he gave them, and he got good round applause wherever +he spoke. + +They saved me up for the last, and when Adam had finished speaking +either he or Hogge would introduce me, and my singing would begin. +That was the programme we had arranged for the Hole-in-the-Ground +Theater, as the Canadians called their amphitheater. For this +performance, of course, I had no piano. Johnson and the wee +instrument were back where we had left the motor cars, and so I just +had to sing without an accompaniment--except that which the great +booming of the guns was to furnish me. + +I was afraid at first that the guns would bother me. But as I +listened to Hogge and Adam I ceased, gradually, to notice them at +all, and I soon felt that they would annoy me no more, when it was my +turn to go on, than the chatter of a bunch of stage hands in the +wings of a theater had so often done. + +When it was my turn I began with "Roamin' In the Gloamin'." The verse +went well, and I swung into the chorus. I had picked the song to open +with because I knew the soldiers were pretty sure to know it, and so +would join me in the chorus--which is something I always want them to +do. And these were no exceptions to the general rule. But, just as I +got into the chorus, the tune of the guns changed. They had been +coughing and spitting intermittently, but now, suddenly, it seemed to +me that it was as if someone had kicked the lid off the fireworks +factory and dropped a lighted torch inside. + +Every gun in the battery around the hole began whanging away at once. +I was jumpy and nervous, I'll admit, and it was all I could do to +hold to the pitch and not break the time. I thought all of Von +Hindenburg's army must be attacking us, and, from the row and din, +I judged he must have brought up some of the German navy to help, +instead of letting it lie in the Kiel canal where the British +fleet could not get at it. I never heard such a terrific racket +in all my days. + +I took the opportunity to look around at my audience. They didn't +seem to be a bit excited. They all had their eyes fixed on me, and +they weren't listening to the guns--only to me and my singing. And +so, as they probably knew what was afoot, and took it so quietly, I +managed to keep on singing as if I, too, were used to such a row, and +thought no more of it than of the ordinary traffic noise of a London +or a Glasgow street. But if I really managed to look that way my +appearances were most deceptive, because I was nearer to being scared +than I had been at any time yet! + +But presently I began to get interested in the noise of the guns. +They developed a certain regular rhythm. I had to allow for it, and +make it fit the time of what I was singing. And as I realized that +probably this was just a part of the regular day's work, a bit of +ordinary strafing, and not a feature of a grand attack, I took note +of the rhythm. It went something like this, as near as I can gie it +to you in print: + +"Roamin' in the--PUH--LAH--gloamin'--BAM! + +"On the--WHUFF!--BOOM!--bonny--BR-R-R!--banks o'--BIFF--Clyde--ZOW!" + +And so it went all through the rest of the concert. I had to adjust +each song I sang to that odd rhythm of the guns, and I don't know but +what it was just as well that Johnson wasn't there! He'd have had +trouble staying with me with his wee bit piano, I'm thinkin'! + +And, do you ken, I got to see, after a bit, that it was the gunners, +all the time, havin' a bit of fun with me! For when I sang a verse +the guns behaved themselves, but every time I came to the chorus they +started up the same inferno of noise again. I think they wanted to +see, at first, if they could no shake me enough to make me stop +singing, and they liked me the better when they found I would no +stop. The soldiers soon began to laugh, but the joke was not all on +me, and I could see that they understood that, and were pleased. +Indeed, it was all as amusing to me as to them. + +I doubt if "Roamin' in the Gloamin'" or any other song was ever sung +in such circumstances. I sang several more songs--they called, as +every audience I have seems to do, for me to sing my "Wee Hoose Amang +the Heather"--and then Captain Godfrey brought the concert to an end. +It was getting along toward midafternoon, and he explained that we +had another call to make before dark. + +"Good-by, Harry--good luck to you! Thanks for the singing!" + +Such cries rose from all sides, and the Canadians came crowding +around to shake my hand. It was touching to see how pleased they +were, and it made me rejoice that I had been able to come. I had +thought, sometimes, that it might be a presumptuous thing, in a way, +for me to want to go so near the front, but the way I had been able +to cheer up the lonely, dull routine of that battery went far to +justify me in coming, I thought. + +I was sorry to be leaving the Canadians. And I was glad to see that +they seemed as sorry to have me go as I was to be going. I have a +very great fondness for the Canadian soldier. He is certainly one of +the most picturesque and interesting of all the men who are fighting +under the flags of the Allies, and it is certain that the world can +never forget the record he has made in this war--a record of courage +and heroism unexcelled by any and equaled by few. + +I stood around while we were getting ready to start back to the cars, +and one of the officers was with me. + +"How often do you get a shell right inside the pit here?" I asked +him. "A fair hit, I mean?" + +"Oh, I don't know!" he said, slowly. He looked around. "You know that +hole you were singing in just now?" + +I nodded. I had guessed that it had been made by a shell. + +"Well, that's the result of a Boche shell," he said. "If you'd come +yesterday we'd have had to find another place for your concert!" + +"Oh--is that so!" I said. + +"Aye," he said, and grinned. "We didn't tell you before, Harry, +because we didn't want you to feel nervous, or anything like that, +while you were singing. But it was obliging of Fritz--now wasn't it? +Think of having him take all the trouble to dig out a fine theater +for us that way!" + +"It was obliging of him, to be sure," I said, rather dryly. + +"That's what we said," said the officer. "Why, as soon as I saw the +hole that shell had made, I said to Campbell: 'By Jove--there's +the very place for Harry Lauder's concert to-morrow!' And he agreed +with me!" + +Now it was time for handshaking and good-bys. I said farewell all +around, and wished good luck to that brave battery, so cunningly +hidden away in its pit. There was a great deal of cheery shouting and +waving of hands as we went off. And in two minutes the battery was +out of sight--even though we knew exactly where it was! + +We made our way slowly back, through the lengthening shadows, over +the shell-pitted ground. The motor cars were waiting, and Johnson, +too. Everything was shipshape and ready for a new start, and we +climbed in. + +As we drove off I looked back at Vimy Ridge. And I continued to gaze +at it for a long time. No longer did it disappoint me. No longer did +I regard it as an insignificant hillock. All that feeling that had +come to me with my first sight of it had been banished by my +introduction to the famous ridge itself. + +It had spoken to me eloquently, despite the muteness of the myriad +tongues it had. It had graven deep into my heart the realization of +its true place in history. + +An excrescence in a flat country--a little hump of ground! That is +all there is to Vimy Ridge. Aye! It does not stand so high above the +ground of Flanders as would the books that will be written about it +in the future, were you to pile them all up together when the last +one of them is printed! But what a monument it is to bravery and to +sacrifice--to all that is best in this human race of ours! + +No human hands have ever reared such a monument as that ridge is and +will be. There some of the greatest deeds in history were done--some +of the noblest acts that there is record of performed. There men +lived and died gloriously in their brief moment of climax--the moment +for which, all unknowing, all their lives before that day of battle +had been lived. + +I took off my cap as I looked back, with a gesture and a thought of +deep and solemn reverence. And so I said good-by to Vimy Ridge, and +to the brave men I had known there--living and dead. For I felt that +I had come to know some of the dead as well as the living. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"You'll see another phase of the front now, Harry," said Captain +Godfrey, as I turned my eyes to the front once more. + +"What's the next stop?" I asked. + +"We're heading for a rest billet behind the lines. There'll be lots +of men there who are just out of the trenches. It's a ghastly strain +for even the best and most seasoned troops--this work in the +trenches. So, after a battalion has been in for a certain length of +time, it's pulled out and sent back to a rest billet." + +"What do they do there?" I asked. + +"Well, they don't loaf--there's none of that in the British army, +these days! But it's paradise, after the trenches. For one thing +there isn't the constant danger there is up front. The men aren't +under steady fire. Of course, there's always the chance of a bomb +dropping raid by a Taube or a Fokker. The men get a chance to clean +up. They get baths, and their clothes are cleaned and disinfected. +They get rid of the cooties--you know what they are?" + +I could guess. The plague of vermin in the trenches is one of the +minor horrors of war. + +"They do a lot of drilling," Godfrey went on. "Except for those times +in the rest billets, regiments might get a bit slack. In the +trenches, you see, the routine is strict, but it's different. Men are +much more on their own. There aren't any inspections of kit and all +that sort of thing--not for neatness, anyway. + +"And it's a good thing for soldiers to be neat. It helps discipline. +And discipline, in time of war, isn't just a parade-ground matter. It +means lives--every time. Your disciplined man, who's trained to do +certain things automatically, is the man you can depend on in any +sort of emergency. + +"That's the thing that the Canadians and the Australians have had to +learn since they came out. There never were any braver troops than +those in the world, but at first they didn't have the automatic +discipline they needed. That'll be the first problem in training the +new American armies, too. It's a highly practical matter. And so, in +the rest billets, they drill the men a goodish bit. It keeps up the +morale, and makes them fitter and keener for the work when they go +back to the trenches." + +"You don't make it sound much like a real rest for them," I said. + +"Oh, but it is, all right! They have a comfortable place to sleep. +They get better food. The men in the trenches get the best food it's +possible to give them, but it can't be cooked much, for there aren't +facilities. The diet gets pretty monotonous. In the rest billets they +get more variety. And they have plenty of free time, and there are +hours when they can go to the estaminet--there's always one handy, a +sort of pub, you know--and buy things for themselves. Oh, they have a +pretty good time, as you'll see, in a rest billet." + +I had to take his word for it. We went bowling along at a good speed, +but pretty soon we encountered a detachment of Somerset men. They +halted when they spied our caravan, and so did we. As usual they +recognized us. + +"You'm Harry Lauder!" said one of them, in the broad accent of his +country. "Us has seen 'ee often!" + +Johnson was out already, and he and the drivers were unlimbering the +wee piano. It didn't take so long, now that we were getting used to +the task, to make ready for a roadside concert. While I waited I +talked to the men. They were on their way to Ypres. Tommy can't get +the name right, and long ago ceased trying to do so. The French and +Belgians call it "Eepre"--that's as near as I can give it to you in +print, at least. But Tommy, as all the world must know by now, calls +it Wipers, and that is another name that will live as long as British +history is told. + +The Somerset men squatted in the road while I sang my songs for them, +and gave me their most rapt attention. It was hugely gratifying and +flattering, the silence that always descended upon an audience of +soldiers when I sang. There were never any interruptions. But at the +end of a song, and during the chorus, which they always wanted to +sing with me, as I wanted them to do, too, they made up for their +silence. + +Soon the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour was on its way again. The +cheers of the Somerset men sounded gayly in our ears, and the cars +quickly picked up speed and began to mop up the miles at a great +rate. And then, suddenly--whoa! We were in the midst of soldiers +again. This time it was a bunch of motor repair men. + +They wandered along the roads, working on the trucks and cars that +were abandoned when they got into trouble, and left along the side of +the road. We had seen scores of such wrecks that day, and I had +wondered if they were left there indefinitely. Far from it, as I +learned now. Squads like this--there were two hundred men in this +particular party--were always at work. Many of the cars they salvaged +without difficulty--those that had been abandoned because of +comparatively minor engine troubles or defects. Others had to be +towed to a repair shop, or loaded upon other trucks for the journey, +if their wheels were out of commission. + +Others still were beyond repair. They had been utterly smashed in a +collision, maybe, or as a result of skidding. Or they had burned. +Sometimes they had been knocked off the road and generally +demoralized by a shell. And in such cases often, all that men such as +these we had met now could do was to retrieve some parts to be used +in repairing other cars in a less hopeless state. + +By this time Johnson and the two soldier chauffeurs had reduced the +business of setting our stage to a fine point. It took us but a very +few minutes indeed to be ready for a concert, and from the time when +we sighted a potential audience to the moment for the opening number +was an almost incredibly brief period. This time that was a good +thing, for it was growing late. And so, although the repair men were +loath to let me go, it was but an abbreviated programme that I was +able to offer them. This was one of the most enthusiastic audiences I +had had yet, for nearly every man there, it turned out, had been what +Americans would call a Harry Lauder fan in the old days. They had +been wont to go again and again to hear me. I wanted to stay and sing +more songs for them, but Captain Godfrey was in charge, and I had to +obey his orders, reluctant though I was to go on. + +Our destination was a town called Aubigny--rather an old chateau just +outside the town. Aubigny was the billet of the Fifteenth Division, +then in rest. Many officers were quartered in the chateau, as the +guests of its French owners, who remained in possession, having +refused to clear out, despite the nearness of the actual fighting +front. + +This was a Scots division, I was glad to find. I heard good Scots +talk all around me when I arrived, and it was Scottish hospitality, +mingled with French, that awaited us. I know no finer combination, +nor one more warming to the cockles of a man's heart. + +Here there was luxury, compared to what I had seen that day. As +Godfrey had warned me, the idea of resting that the troops had was a +bit more strenuous than mine would be. There was no lying and lolling +about. Hot though the weather was a deal of football was played, and +there were games of one sort and another going on nearly all the time +when the men were off duty. + +This division, I learned, had seen some of the hardest and bloodiest +fighting of the whole war. They had been through the great offensive +that had pivoted on Arras, and had been sorely knocked about. They +had well earned such rest as was coming to them now, and they were +getting ready, in the most cheerful way you can imagine, for their +next tour of duty in the trenches. They knew about how much time they +would have, and they made the best use they could of it. + +New drafts were coming out daily from home to fill up their sadly +depleted ranks. The new men were quickly drawn in and assimilated +into organizations that had been reduced to mere skeletons. New +officers were getting acquainted with their men; that wonderful thing +that is called esprit de corps was being made all around me. It is a +great sight to watch it in the making; it helps you to understand the +victories our laddies have won. + +I was glad to see the kilted men of the Scots regiments all about me. +It was them, after all, that I had come to see. I wanted to talk to +them, and see them here, in France. I had seen them at hame, flocking +to the recruiting offices. I had seen them in their training camps. +But this was different. I love all the soldiers of the Empire, but it +is natural, is it no, that my warmest feeling should be for the +laddies who wear the kilt. + +They were the most cheerful souls, as I saw them when we reached +their rest camp, that you could imagine. They were laughing and +joking all about us, and when they heard that the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour had arrived they crowded about us to see. They +wanted to make sure that I was there, and I was greeted in all sorts +of dialect that sounded enough, I'll be bound, to Godfrey and some of +the rest of our party. There were even men who spoke to me in the +Gaelic. + +I saw a good deal, afterward, of these Scots troops. My, how hard +they did work while they rested! And what chances they took of broken +bones and bruises in their play! Ye would think, would ye no, that +they had enough of that in the trenches, where they got lumps and +bruises and sorer hurts in the run of duty? But no. So soon as they +came back to their rest billets they must begin to play by knocking +the skin and the hair off one another at sports of various sorts, of +which football was among the mildest, that are not by any means to be +recommended to those of a delicate fiber. + +Some of the men I met at Aubigny had been out since Mons--some of the +old kilted regiments of the old regular army, they were. Away back in +those desperate days the Germans had dubbed them the ladies from +Hell, on account of their kilts. Some of the Germans really thought +they were women! That was learned from prisoners. Since Mons they +have been out, and auld Scotland has poured out men by the scores of +thousands, as fast as they were needed, to fill the gaps the German +shells and bullets have torn in the Scots ranks. Aye--since Mons, and +they will be there at the finish, when it comes, please God! + +There have always been Scots regiments in the British army, ever +since the day when King Jamie the Sixth, of Scotland, of the famous +and unhappy house of Stuart, became King James the First of England. +The kilted regiments, the Highlanders, belonging to the immortal +Highland Brigade, include the Gordon Highlanders, the Forty-second, +the world famous Black Watch, as it is better known than by its +numbered designation, the Seaforth Highlanders, and the Argyle and +Sutherland regiment, or the Princess Louise's Own. That was the +regiment to a territorial battalion of which my boy John belonged at +the outbreak of the war, and with which he served until he was killed. + +Some of those old, famous regiments have been wiped out half a dozen +times, almost literally annihilated, since Mons. New drafts, and the +addition of territorial battalions, have replenished them and kept up +their strength, and the continuity of their tradition has never been +broken. The men who compose a regiment may be wiped out, but the +regiment survives. It is an organization, an entity, a creature with +a soul as well as a body. And the Germans have no discovered a way +yet of killing the soul! They can do dreadful things to the bodies of +men and women, but their souls are safe from them. + +Of course there are Scots regiments that are not kilted and that have +naught to do with the Hielanders, who have given as fine and brave an +account of themselves as any. There are the Scots Guards, one of the +regiments of the Guards Brigade, the very pick and flower of the +British army. There are the King's Own Scottish Borderers, with as +fine a history and tradition as any regiment in the army, and a +record of service of which any regiment might well be proud; the +Scots Fusiliers, the Royal Scots, the Scottish Rifles, and the Scots +Greys, of Crimean fame--the only cavalry regiment from Scotland. + +Since this war began other Highland regiments have been raised beside +those originally included in the Highland Brigade. There are Scots +from Canada who wear the kilt and their own tartan and cap. Every +Highland regiment, of course, has its own distinguishing tartan and +cap. One of the proudest moments of my life came when I heard that +the ninth battalion of the Highland Light Infantry, which was raised +in Glasgow, but has its depot, where its recruits and new drafts are +trained, at Hamilton, was known as the Harry Landers. That was +because they had adopted the Balmoral cap, with dice, that had become +associated with me because I had worn it so often and so long on the +stage in singing one of my most famous and successful songs, "I Love +a Lassie." + +But in the trenches, of course, the Hieland troops all look alike. +They cling to their kilts--or, rather, their kilts cling to them--but +kilts and jackets are all of khaki. If they wore the bright plaids of +the tartans they would be much too conspicuous a mark for the +Germans, and so they have to forswear their much loved colors when +they are actually at grips with Fritz. + +I wear the kilt nearly always, myself, as I have said. Partly I do so +because it is my native costume, and I am proud of my Highland birth; +partly because I revel in the comfort of the costume. But it brings +me some amusing experiences. Very often I am asked a question that +is, I presume, fired at many a Hieland soldier, intimate though it is. + +"I say, Harry," someone will ask me, "you wear the kilt. Do you not +wear anything underneath it?" + +I do, myself. I wear a very short pair of trunks, chiefly for reasons +of modesty. So do some of the soldiers. But if they do they must +provide it for themselves; no such garment is served out to them with +their uniform. And so the vast majority of the men wear nothing but +their skins under the kilt. He is bare, that is, from the waist to +the hose--except for the kilt. But that is garment enough! I'll tell +ye so, and I'm thinkin' I know! + +So clad the Highland soldier is a great deal more comfortable and a +great deal more sanely dressed, I believe, than the city dweller who +is trousered and underweared within an inch of his life. I think it +is a matter of medical record, that can be verified from the reports +of the army surgeons, that the kilted troops are among the healthiest +in the whole army. I know that the Highland troops are much less +subject to abdominal troubles of all sorts--colic and the like. The +kilt lies snug and warm around the stomach, in several thick layers, +and a more perfect protection from the cold has never been devised +for that highly delicate and susceptible region of the human anatomy. + +Women, particularly, are always asking me another question. I have +seen them eyeing me, in cold weather, when I was walkin' around, +comfortably, in my kilt. And their eyes would wander to my knees, and +I would know before they opened their mouths what it was that they +were going to say. + +"Oh, Mr. Lauder," they would ask me. "Don't your poor knees get cold-- +with no coverings, exposed to this bitter cold?" + +Well, they never have! That's all I can tell you. They have had the +chance, in all sorts of bitter weather. I am not thinking only of the +comparitively mild winters of Britain--although, up north, in +Scotland, we get some pretty severe winter weather. But I have been +in Western Canada, and in the northwestern states of the United +States, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, where the thermometer drops +far below zero. And my knees have never been cold yet. They do not +suffer from the cold any more than does my face, which is as little +covered and protected as they--and for the same reason, I suppose. +They are used to the weather. + +And when it comes to the general question of health, I am certain, +from my own experience, that the kilt is best. Several times, for one +reason or another, I have laid my kilts aside and put on trousers. +And each time I have been seized by violent colds, and my life has +been made wretched. A good many soldiers of my acquaintance have had +the same experience. + +Practical reasons aside, however, the Scots soldier loves his kilt, +and would fight like a steer to keep from having it taken away from +him, should anyone be so foolish as to try such a performance. He +loves it, not only because it is warm and comfortable, but because it +is indistinguishably associated in his mind with some of the most +glorious pages of Scottish history. It is a sign and symbol of his +hameland to him. There have been times, in Scotland, when all was not +as peaceful in the country's relations with England as it now is, +when the loyal Scot who wore the kilt did so knowing that he might be +tried for his life for doing so, since death had been the penalty +appointed for that "crime." + +Aye, it is peace and friendship now between Scot and Englishman. But +that is not to say that there is no a friendly rivalry between them +still. English regiments and Scots regiments have a lot of fun with +one another, and a bit rough it gets, too, at times. But it is all in +fun, and there is no harm done. I have in mind a tale an officer told +me--though the men of whom he told it did not know that an officer +had any inkling of the story. + +The English soldiers are very fond of harping on the old idea of the +difficulty of making a Scotsman see a joke. That is a base slander, +I'll say, but no matter. There were two regiments in rest close to +one another, one English and one Scots. They met at the estaminet or +pub in the nearby town. And one day the Englishman put up a great +joke on some of the Scots, and did get a little proof of that pet +idea of theirs, for the Scots were slow to see the joke. + +Ah, weel, that was enough! For days the English rang the changes on +that joke, teasing the Hielanders and making sport of them. But at +last, when the worst of the tormentors were all assembled together, +two of the Scots came into the room where they were havin' a wee +drappie. + +"Mon, Sandy," said one of them, shaking his head, "I've been thinking +what a sad thing that would be! I hope it will no come to pass." + +"Aye, that would be a sore business, indeed, Tam," said Sandy, and +he, too, shook his head. + +And so they went on. The Englishmen stood it as long as they could +and then one turned to Sandy. + +"What is it would be such a bad business?" he asked. + +"Mon-mon," said Sandy. "We've been thinking, Tam and I, what would +become of England, should Scotland make a separate peace?" + +And it was generally conceded that the last laugh was with the Scots +in that affair! + +My boy, John, had the same love for the kilt that I had. He was proud +and glad to wear the kilt, and to lead men who did the same. While he +was in training at Bedford he organized a corps of cyclists for +dispatch-bearing work. He was a crack cyclist himself, and it was a +sport of which he was passionately fond. So he took a great interest +in the corps, and it soon gained wide fame for its efficiency. So +true was that that the authorities took note of the corps, and of +John, who was responsible for it, and he was asked to go to France to +take charge of organizing a similar corps behind the front. But that +would have involved a transfer to a different branch of the army, and +detachment from his regiment. And--it would have meant that he must +doff his kilt. Since he had the chance to decline--it was an offer, +not an order, that had come to him--he did, that he might keep his +kilt and stay with his own men. + +To my eyes there is no spectacle that begins to be so imposing as the +sight of a parade of Scottish troops in full uniform. And it is the +unanimous testimony of German prisoners that this war has brought +them no more terrifying sight than the charge of a kilted regiment. +The Highlanders come leaping forward, their bayonets gleaming, +shouting old battle cries that rang through the glens years and +centuries ago, and that have come down to the descendants of the +warriors of an ancient time. The Highlanders love to use cold steel; +the claymore was their old weapon, and the bayonet is its nearest +equivalent in modern war. They are master hands with that, too--and +the bayonet is the one thing the Hun has no stomach for at all. + +Fritz is brave enough when he is under such cover and shelter as the +trenches give. And he has shown a sort of stubborn courage when +attacking in massed formations--the Germans have made terrible +sacrifices, at times, in their offensive efforts. But his blood turns +to water in his veins when he sees the big braw laddies from the +Hielands come swooping toward him, their kilts flapping and their +bayonets shining in whatever light there is. Then he is mighty quick +to throw up his hands and shout: "Kamerad! Kamerad!" + +I might go on all night telling you some of the stories I heard along +the front about the Scottish soldiers. They illustrate and explain +every phase of his character. They exploit his humor, despite that +base slander to which I have already referred, his courage, his +stoicism. And, of course, a vast fund of stories has sprung up that +deals with the proverbial thrift of the Scot! There was one tale that +will bear repeating, perhaps. + +Two Highlanders had captured a chicken--a live chicken, not +particularly fat, it may be, even a bit scrawny, but still, a live +chicken. That was a prize, since the bird seemed to have no owner who +might get them into trouble with the military police. One was for +killing and eating the fowl at once. But the other would have none of +such a summary plan. + +"No, no, Jimmy," he said, pleadingly, holding the chicken +protectingly. "Let's keep her until morning, and may be we will ha' +an egg as well!" + +[ILLUSTRATION: "'Make us laugh again, Harry!' Though I remember my +son and want to join the ranks, I have obeyed." LAUDER ADDRESSING +BRITISH TROOPS BEHIND THE LINES IN FRANCE (See Lauder08.jpg)] + +The other British soldiers call the Scots Jock, invariably. The +Englishman, or a soldier from Wales or Ireland, as a rule, is called +Tommy--after the well-known M. Thomas Atkins. Sometimes, an Irishman +will be Paddy and a Welshman Taffy. But the Scot is always Jock. + +Jock gave us a grand welcome at Aubigny. We were all pretty tired, +but when they told me I could have an audience of seven thousand +Scots soldiers I forgot my weariness, and Hogge, Adam and I, to say +nothing of Johnson and the wee piano, cleared for action, as you +might say. The concert was given in the picturesque grounds of the +chateau, which had been less harshly treated by the war than many +such beautiful old places. It was a great experience to sing to so +many men; it was far and away the largest house we had had since we +had landed at Boulogne. + +After we left Aubigny, the chateau and that great audience, we drove +on as quickly as we could, since it was now late, to the headquarters +of General Mac----, commanding the Fifteenth Division--to which, of +course, the men whom we had just been entertaining belonged. I was to +meet the general upon my arrival. + +That was a strange ride. It was pitch dark, and we had some distance +to go. There were mighty few lights in evidence; you do not advertise +a road to Fritz's airplanes when you are traveling roads anywhere +near the front, for he has guns of long range, that can at times +manage to strafe a road that is supposed to be beyond the zone of +fire with a good deal of effect I have seldom seen a blacker night +than that. Objects along the side of the road were nothing but +shapeless lumps, and I did not see how our drivers could manage at +all to find their way. + +They seemed to have no difficulty, however, but got along swimmingly. +Indeed, they traveled faster than they had in daylight. Perhaps that +was because we were not meeting troops to hold us up along this road; +I believe that, if we had, we should have stopped and given them a +concert, even though Johnson could not have seen the keys of his piano! + +It was just as well, however. I was delighted at the reception that +had been given to the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour all through +our first day in France. But I was also extremely tired, and the +dinner and bed that loomed up ahead of us, at the end of our long +ride through the dark, took on an aspect of enchantment as we neared +them. My voice, used as I was to doing a great deal of singing, was +fagged, and Hogge and Dr. Adam were so hoarse that they could +scarcely speak at all. Even Johnson was pretty well done up; he was +still, theoretically, at least, on the sick list, of course. And I +ha' no doot that the wee piano felt it was entitled to its rest, too! + +So we were all mighty glad when the cars stopped at last. + +"Well, here we are!" said Captain Godfrey, who was the freshest of us +all. "This is Tramecourt--General Headquarters for the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour while you are in France, gentlemen. They have +special facilities for visitors here, and unless one of Fritz's +airplanes feels disposed to drop a bomb or two, you won't be under +fire, at night at least. Of course, in the daytime. . ." + +He shrugged his shoulders. For our plans did not involve a search for +safe places. Still, it was pleasant to know that we might sleep in +fair comfort. + +General Mac---- was waiting to welcome us, and told us that dinner +was ready and waiting, which we were all glad to hear. It had been a +long, hard day, although the most interesting one, by far, that I had +ever spent. + +We made short work of dinner, and soon afterward they took us to our +rooms. I don't know what Hogge and Dr. Adam did, but I know I looked +happily at the comfortable bed that was in my room. And I slept +easily and without being rocked to sleep that nicht! + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Though we were out of the zone of fire--except for stray activities +in which Boche airplanes might indulge themselves, as our hosts were +frequently likely to remind us, lest we fancy ourselves too secure, I +suppose--we were by no means out of hearing of the grim work that was +going on a few miles away. The big guns, of course, are placed well +behind the front line trenches, and we could hear their sullen, +constant quarreling with Fritz and his artillery. The rumble of the +Hun guns came to us, too. But that is a sound to which you soon get +used, out there in France. You pay no more heed to it than you do to +the noise the 'buses make in London or the trams in Glasgow. + +In the morning I got my first chance really to see Tramecourt. The +chateau is a lovely one, a fine example of such places. It had not +been knocked about at all, and it looked much as it must have done in +times of peace. Practically all the old furniture was still in the +rooms, and there were some fine old pictures on the walls that it +gave me great delight to see. Indeed, the rare old atmosphere of the +chateau was restful and delightful in a way that surprised me. + +I had been in the presence of real war for just one day. And yet I +took pleasure in seeing again the comforts and some of the luxuries +of peace! That gave me an idea of what this sort of place must mean +to men from the trenches. It must seem like a bit of heaven to them +to come back to Aubigny or Tramecourt! Think of the contrast. + +The chateau, which had been taken over by the British army, belonged +to the Comte de Chabot, or, rather, to his wife, who had been +Marquise de Tramecourt, one of the French families of the old regime. +Although the old nobility of France has ceased to have any legal +existence under the Republic the old titles are still used as a +matter of courtesy, and they have a real meaning and value. This was +a pleasant place, this chateau of Tramecourt; I should like to see it +again in days of peace, for then it must be even more delightful than +it was when I came to know it so well. + +Tramecourt was to be our home, the headquarters of the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour, during the rest of our stay at the front. We were +to start out each morning, in the cars, to cover the ground appointed +for that day, and to return at night. But it was understood that +there would be days when we would get too far away to return at night, +and other sleeping quarters would be provided on such occasions. + +I grew very fond of the place while I was there. The steady pounding +of the guns did not disturb my peace of nights, as a rule. But there +was one night when I did lie awake for hours, listening. Even to my +unpracticed ear there was a different quality in the sound of the +cannon that night. It had a fury, an intensity, that went beyond +anything I had heard. And later I learned that I had made no mistake +in thinking that there was something unusual and portentous about the +fire that night. What I had listened to was the preliminary drum fire +and bombardment that prepared the way for the great attack at +Messines, near Ypres--the most terrific bombardment recorded in all +history, up to that time. + +The fire that night was like a guttural chant. It had a real rhythm; +the beat of the guns could almost be counted. And at dawn there came +the terrific explosion of the great mine that had been prepared, +which was the signal for the charge. Mr. Lloyd-George, I am told, +knowing the exact moment at which the mine was to be exploded, was +awake, at home in England, and heard it, across the channel, and so +did many folk who did not have his exceptional sources of +information. I was one of them! And I wondered greatly until I was +told what had been done. That was one of the most brilliantly and +successfully executed attacks of the whole war, and vastly important +in its results, although it was, compared to the great battles on the +Somme and up north, near Arras, only a small and minor operation. + +We settled down, very quickly indeed, into a regular routine. Captain +Godfrey was, for all the world, like the manager of a traveling +company in America. He mapped out our routes, and he took care of all +the details. No troupe, covering a long route of one night stands in +the Western or Southern United States, ever worked harder than did +Hogge, Adam and I--to say nothing of Godfrey and our soldier +chauffeurs. We did not lie abed late in the mornings, but were up +soon after daylight. Breakfast out of the way, we would find the cars +waiting and be off. + +We had, always, a definite route mapped out for the day, but we never +adhered to it exactly. I was still particularly pleased with the idea +of giving a roadside concert whenever an audience appeared, and there +was no lack of willing listeners. Soon after we had set out from +Tramecourt, no matter in which direction we happened to be going, we +were sure to run into some body of soldiers. + +There was no longer any need of orders. As soon as the chauffeur of +the leading car spied a blotch of khaki against the road, on went his +brakes, and we would come sliding into the midst of the troops and +stop. Johnson would be out before his car had fairly stopped, and at +work upon the lashings of the little piano, with me to help him. And +Hogge would already be clearing his throat to begin his speech. + +The Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour, employed no press agent, and +it could not boast of a bill poster. No hoardings were covered with +great colored sheets advertising its coming. And yet the whole front +seemed to know that we were about. The soldiers we met along the +roads welcomed us gladly, but they were no longer, after the first +day or two, surprised to see us. They acted, rather, as if they had +been expecting us. Our advent was like that of a circus, coming to a +country town for a long heralded and advertised engagement. Yet all +the puffing that we got was by word of mouth. + +There were some wonderful choruses along those war-worn roads we +traveled. "Roamin' in the Gloamin'" was still my featured song, and +all the soldiers seemed to know the tune and the words, and to take a +particular delight in coming in with me as I swung into the chorus. +We never passed a detachment of soldiers without stopping to give +them a concert, no matter how it disarranged Captain Godfrey's plans. +But he was entirely willing. It was these men, on their way to the +trenches, or on the way out of them, bound for rest billets, whom, of +course, I was most anxious to reach, since I felt that they were the +ones I was most likely to be able to help and cheer up. + +The scheduled concerts were practically all at the various rest +billets we visited. These were, in the main, at chateaux. Always, at +such a place, I had a double audience. The soldiers would make a +great ring, as close to me as they could get, and around them, again, +in a sort of outer circle, were French villagers and peasants, vastly +puzzled and mystified, but eager to be pleased, and very ready with +their applause. + +It must have been hard for them to make up their minds about me, if +they gave me much thought. My kilt confused them; most of them +thought I was a soldier from some regiment they had not yet seen, +wearing a new and strange uniform. For my kilt, I need not say, was +not military, nor was the rest of my garb warlike! + +I gave, during that time, as many as seven concerts in a day. I have +sung as often as thirty-five times in one day, and on such occasions +I was thankful that I had a strong and durable voice, not easily worn +out, as well as a stout physique. Hogge and Dr. Adam appeared as +often as I did, but they didn't have to sing! + +Nearly all the songs I gave them were ditties they had known for a +long time. The one exception was the tune that had been so popular in +"Three Cheers"--the one called "The Laddies Who Fought and Won." Few +of the boys had been home since I had been singing that song, but it +has a catching lilt, and they were soon able to join in the chorus +and send it thundering along. They took to it, too--and well they +might! It was of such as they that it was written. + +We covered perhaps a hundred miles a day during this period. That +does not sound like a great distance for high-powered motor cars, but +we did a good deal of stopping, you see, here and there and +everywhere. We were roaming around in the backwater of war, you might +say. We were out of the main stream of carnage, but it was not out of +our minds and our hearts. Evidences of it in plenty came to us each +day. And each day we were a little nearer to the front line trenches +than we had come the day before. We were working gradually toward +that climax that I had been promised. + +I was always eager to talk to officers and men, and I found many +chances to do so. It seemed to me that I could never learn enough +about the soldiers. I listened avidly to every story that was told +to me, and was always asking for more. The younger officers, +especially, it interested me to talk with. One day I was talking +to such a lieutenant. + +"How is the spirit of your men?" I asked him. I am going to tell you +his answer, just as he made it. + +"Their spirit?" he said, musingly. "Well, just before we came to this +billet to rest we were in a tightish corner on the Somme. One of my +youngest men was hit--a shell came near to taking his arm clean off, +so that it was left just hanging to his shoulders. He was only about +eighteen years old, poor chap. It was a bad wound, but, as sometimes +happens, it didn't make him unconscious--then. And when he realized +what had happened to him, and saw his arm hanging limp, so that he +could know he was bound to lose it, he began to cry. + +"'What's the trouble?' I asked him, hurrying over to him. I was sorry +enough for him, but you've got to keep up the morale of your men. +'Soldiers don't cry when they're wounded, my lad.' + +"'I'm not crying because I'm wounded, sir!' he fired back at me. And +I won't say he was quite as respectful as a private is supposed to be +when he's talking to an officer! 'Just take a look at that, sir!' And +he pointed to his wound. And then he cried out: + +"'And I haven't killed a German yet!' he said, bitterly. 'Isn't that +hard lines, sir?' + +"That is the spirit of my men!" + +I made many good friends while I was roaming around the country just +behind the front. I wonder how many of them I shall keep--how many of +them death will spare to shake my hand again when peace is restored! +There was a Gordon Highlander, a fine young officer, of whom I became +particularly fond while I was at Tramecourt. I had a very long talk +with him, and I thought of him often, afterward, because he made me +think of John. He was just such a fine young type of Briton as my boy +had been. + +Months later, when I was back in Britain, and giving a performance at +Manchester, there was a knock at the door of my dressing-room. + +"Come in!" I called. + +The door was pushed open and a man came in with great blue glasses +covering his eyes. He had a stick, and he groped his way toward me. I +did not know him at all at first--and then, suddenly, with a shock, I +recognized him as my fine young Gordon Highlander of the rest billet +near Tramecourt. + +"My God--it's you, Mac!" I said, deeply shocked. + +"Yes," he said, quietly. His voice had changed, greatly. "Yes, it's +I, Harry." + +He was almost totally blind, and he did not know whether his eyes +would get better or worse. + +"Do you remember all the lads you met at the billet where you came to +sing for us the first time I met you, Harry?" he asked me. "Well, +they're all gone--I'm the only one who's left--the only one!" + +There was grief in his voice. But there was nothing like complaint, +nor was there, nor self-pity, either, when he told me about his eyes +and his doubts as to whether he would ever really see again. He +passed his own troubles off lightly, as if they did not matter at +all. He preferred to tell me about those of his friends whom I had +met, and to give me the story of how this one and that one had gone. +And he is like many another. I know a great many men who have been +maimed in the war, but I have still to hear one of them complain. +They were brave enough, God knows, in battle, but I think they are +far braver when they come home, shattered and smashed, and do naught +but smile at their troubles. + +The only sort of complaining you hear from British soldiers is over +minor discomforts in the field. Tommy and Jock will grouse when they +are so disposed. They will growl about the food and about this +trivial trouble and that. But it is never about a really serious +matter that you hear them talking! + +I have never yet met a man who had been permanently disabled who was +not grieving because he could not go back. And it is strange but true +that men on leave get homesick for the trenches sometimes. They miss +the companionships they have had in the trenches. I think it must be +because all the best men in the world are in France that they feel +so. But it is true, I know, because I have not heard it once, but a +dozen times. + +Men will dream of home and Blighty for weeks and months. They will +grouse because they cannot get leave--though, half the time, they +have not even asked for it, because they feel that their place is +where the fighting is! And then, when they do get that longed-for +leave, they are half sorry to go--and they come back like boys coming +home from school! + +A great reward awaits the men who fight through this war and emerge +alive and triumphant at its end. They will dictate the conduct of the +world for many a year. The men who stayed at home when they should +have gone may as well prepare to drop their voices to a very low +whisper in the affairs of mankind. For the men who will be heard, who +will make themselves heard, are out there in France. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +It was seven o'clock in the morning of a Godly and a beautiful day +when we set out from Tramecourt for Arras. Arras, that town so famous +now in British history and in the annals of this war, had been one of +our principal objectives from the outset, but we had not known when +we were to see it. Arras had been the pivot of the great northern +drive in the spring--the drive that Hindenburg had fondly supposed he +had spoiled by his "strategic" retreat in the region of the Somme, +begun just before the British and the French were ready to attack. + +What a bonnie morning that was, to be sure! The sun was out, after +some rainy days, and glad we all were to see it. The land was sprayed +with silver light; the air was as sweet and as soft and as warm as a +baby's breath. And the cars seemed to leap forward, as if they, too, +loved the day and the air. They ate up the road. They seemed to take +hold of its long, smooth surface--they are grand roads, over you, in +France--and reel it up in underneath their wheels as if it were a tape. + +This time we did little stopping, no matter how good the reason looked. +We went hurtling through villages and towns we had not seen before. +Our horn and our siren shrieked a warning as we shot through. And it +seemed wrong. They looked so peaceful and so quiet, did those French +towns, on that summer's morning! Peaceful, aye, and languorous, after +all the bustle and haste we had been seeing. The houses were set in +pretty encasements of bright foliage and they looked as though they had +been painted against the background of the landscape with water colors. + +It was hard to believe that war had passed that way. It had; there +were traces everywhere of its grim visitation. But here its heavy +hand had been laid lightly upon town and village. It was as if a wave +of poison gas of the sort the Germans brought into war had been +turned aside by a friendly breeze, arising in the very nick of time. +Little harm had been done along the road we traveled. But the thunder +of the guns was always in our ears; we could hear the steady, +throbbing rhythm of the cannon, muttering away to the north and east. + +It was very warm, and so, after a time, as we passed through a +village, someone--Hogge, I think--suggested that a bottle of ginger +beer all around would not be amiss. The idea seemed to be regarded as +an excellent one, so Godfrey spoke to the chauffeur beside him, and +we stopped. We had not known, at first, that there were troops in +town. But there were--Highlanders. And they came swarming out. I was +recognized at once. + +"Well, here's old Harry Lauder!" cried one braw laddie. + +"Come on, Harry--gie us a song!" they shouted. "Let's have 'Roamin' in +the Gloamin', Harry! Gie us the Bonnie Lassie! We ha' na' heard 'The +Laddies Who Fought and Won,' Harry. They tell us that's a braw song!" + +We were not really supposed to give any roadside concerts that day, +but how was I to resist them? So we pulled up into a tiny side +street, just off the market square, and I sang several songs for +them. We saved time by not unlimbering the wee piano, and I sang, +without accompaniment, standing up in the car. But they seemed to be +as well pleased as though I had had the orchestra of a big theater to +support me, and all the accompaniments and trappings of the stage. +They were very loath to let me go, and I don't know how much time we +really saved by not giving our full and regular programme. For, +before I had done, they had me telling stories, too. Captain Godfrey +was smiling, but he was glancing at his watch too, and he nudged me, +at last, and made me realize that it was time for us to go on, no +matter how interesting it might be to stay. + +"I'll be good," I promised, with a grin, as we drove on. "We shall go +straight on to Arras now!" + +But we did not. We met a bunch of engineers on the road, after a +space, and they looked so wistful when we told them we maun be +getting right along, without stopping to sing for them, that I had +not the heart to disappoint them. So we got out the wee piano and I +sang them a few songs. It seemed to mean so much to those boys along +the roads! I think they enjoyed the concerts even more than did the +great gatherings that were assembled for me at the rest camps. A +concert was more of a surprise for them, more of a treat. The other +laddies liked them, too--aye, they liked them fine. But they would +have been prepared, sometimes; they would have been looking forward +to the fun. And the laddies along the roads took them as a man takes +a grand bit of scenery, coming before his eyes, suddenly, as he turns +a bend in a road he does not ken. + +As for myself, I felt that I was becoming quite a proficient open-air +performer by now. My voice was standing the strain of singing under +such novel and difficult conditions much better than I had thought it +could. And I saw that I must be at heart and by nature a minstrel! I +know I got more pleasure from those concerts I gave as a minstrel +wandering in France than did the soldiers or any of those who heard me! + +I have been before the public for many years. Applause has always +been sweet to me. It is to any artist, and when one tells you it is +not you may set it down in your hearts that he or she is telling less +than the truth. It is the breath of life to us to know that folks are +pleased by what we do for them. Why else would we go on about our +tasks? I have had much applause. I have had many honors. I have told +you about that great and overwhelming reception that greeted me when +I sailed into Sydney Harbor. In Britain, in America, I have had +greetings that have brought tears into my eye and such a lump into +my throat that until it had gone down I could not sing or say a word +of thanks. + +But never has applause sounded so sweet to me as it did along those +dusty roads in France, with the poppies gleaming red and the +cornflowers blue through the yellow fields of grain beside the roads! +They cheered me, do you ken--those tired and dusty heroes of Britain +along the French roads! They cheered as they squatted down in a +circle about us, me in my kilt, and Johnson tinkling away as if his +very life depended upon it, at his wee piano! Ah, those wonderful, +wonderful soldiers! The tears come into my eyes, and my heart is sore +and heavy within me when I think that mine was the last voice many of +them ever heard lifted in song! They were on their way to the +trenches, so many of those laddies who stopped for a song along the +road. And when men are going into the trenches they know, and all who +see them passing know, that some there are who will never come out. + +Despite all the interruptions, though, it was not much after noon +when we reached Blangy. Here, in that suburb of Arras, were the +headquarters of the Ninth Division, and as I stepped out of the car I +thrilled to the knowledge that I was treading ground forever to be +famous as the starting-point of the Highland Brigade in the attack of +April 9, 1917. + +And now I saw Arras, and, for the first time, a town that had been +systematically and ruthlessly shelled. There are no words in any +tongue I know to give you a fitting picture of the devastation of +Arras. "Awful" is a puny word, a thin one, a feeble one. I pick +impotently at the cover-lid of my imagination when I try to frame +language to make you understand what it was I saw when I came to +Arras on that bright June day. + +I think the old city of Arras should never be rebuilt. I doubt if it +can be rebuilt, indeed. But I think that, whether or no, a golden +fence should be built around it, and it should forever and for all +time be preserved as a monument to the wanton wickedness of the Hun. +It should serve and stand, in its stark desolation, as a tribute, +dedicated to the Kultur of Germany. No painter could depict the +frightfulness of that city of the dead. No camera could make you see +as it is. Only your eyes can do that for you. And even then you +cannot realize it all at once. Your eyes are more merciful than the +truth and the Hun. + +The Germans shelled Arras long after there was any military reason +for doing so. The sheer, wanton love of destruction must have moved +them. They had destroyed its military usefulness, but still they +poured shot and shell into the town. I went through its streets--the +Germans had been pushed back so far by then that the city was no +longer under steady fire. But they had done their work! + +Nobody was living in Arras. No one could have lived there. The houses +had been smashed to pieces. The pavements were dust and rubble. But +there was life in the city. Through the ruins our men moved as +ceaselessly and as restlessly as the tenants of an ant hill suddenly +upturned by a plowshare. Soldiers were everywhere, and guns--guns, +guns! For Arras had a new importance now. It was a center for many +roads. Some of the most important supply roads of this sector of the +front converged in Arras. + +Trains of ammunition trucks, supply carts and wagons of all sorts, +great trucks laden with jam and meat and flour, all were passing +every moment. There was an incessant din of horses' feet and the +steady crunch--crunch of heavy boots as the soldiers marched through +the rubble and the brickdust. And I knew that all this had gone on +while the town was still under fire. Indeed, even now, an occasional +shell from some huge gun came crashing into the town, and there would +be a new cloud of dust arising to mark its landing, a new collapse of +some weakened wall. Warning signs were everywhere about, bidding all +who saw them to beware of the imminent collapse of some heap of masonry. + +I saw what the Germans had left of the stately old Cathedral, and of +the famous Cloth Hall--one of the very finest examples of the guild +halls of medieval times. Goths--Vandals--no, it is unfair to seek +such names for the Germans. They have established themselves as the +masters of all time in brutality and in destruction. There is no need +to call them anything but Germans. The Cloth Hall was almost human in +its pitiful appeal to the senses and the imagination. The German fire +had picked it to pieces, so that it stood in a stark outline, like +some carcase picked bare by a vulture. + +Our soldiers who were quartered nearby lived outside the town in +huts. They were the men of the Highland Brigade, and the ones I had +hoped and wished, above all others, to meet when I came to France. +They received our party with the greatest enthusiasm, and they were +especially flattering when they greeted me. One of the Highland +officers took me in hand immediately, to show me the battlefield. + +The ground over which we moved had literally been churned by +shell-fire. It was neither dirt nor mud that we walked upon; it was a +sort of powder. The very soil had been decomposed into a fine dust by +the terrific pounding it had received. The dust rose and got into our +eyes and mouths and nostrils. There was a lot of sneezing among the +members of the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour that day at Arras! +And the wire! It was strewn in every direction, with seeming +aimlessness. Heavily barbed it was, and bad stuff to get caught in. +One of the great reasons for the preliminary bombardment that usually +precedes an attack is to cut this wire. If charging men are caught in +a bad tangle of wire they can be wiped out by machine gun-fire before +they can get clear. + +I asked a Highlander, one day, how long he thought the war would last. + +"Forty years," he said, never batting an eyelid. "We'll be fighting +another year, and then it'll tak us thirty-nine years more to wind up +all the wire!" + +Off to my right there was a network of steel strands, and as I gazed +at it I saw a small dark object hanging from it and fluttering in the +breeze. I was curious enough to go over, and I picked my way +carefully through the maze-like network of wire to see what it might +be. When I came close I saw it was a bit of cloth, and immediately I +recognized the tartan of the Black Watch--the famous Forty-second. +Mud and blood held that bit of cloth fastened to the wire, as if by a +cement. Plainly, it had been torn from a kilt. + +I stood for a moment, looking down at that bit of tartan, flapping in +the soft summer breeze. And as I stood I could look out and over the +landscape, dotted with a very forest of little wooden crosses, that +marked the last resting-place of the men who had charged across this +maze of wire and died within it. They rose, did those rough crosses, +like sheathed swords out of the wild, luxurious jungle of grass that +had grown up in that blood-drenched soil. I wondered if the owner of +the bit of tartan were still safe or if he lay under one of the +crosses that I saw. + +There was room for sad speculation here! Who had he been? Had he +swept on, leaving that bit of his kilt as evidence of his passing? +Had he been one of those who had come through the attack, gloriously, +to victory, so that he could look back upon that day so long as he +lived? Or was he dead--perhaps within a hundred yards of where I +stood and gazed down at that relic of him? Had he folks at hame in +Scotland who had gone through days of anguish on his account--such +days of anguish as I had known? + + +[ILLUSTRATION: Berlin struck off this medal when the "Lusitania" was +sunk: on one side the brutal catastrophe, on the other the grinning +death's head Teutonically exultant. "And so now I preach the war on +the Hun my own way," says Harry Lauder. (See Lauder09.jpg)] + +[ILLUSTRATION: HARRY LAUDER "Laird of Dunoon." (See Lauder10.jpg)] + + +I asked a soldier for some wire clippers, and I cut the wire on +either side of that bit of tartan, and took it, just as it was. And +as I put the wee bit of a brave man's kilt away I kissed the +blood-stained tartan, for Auld Lang Syne, and thought of what a tale +it could tell if it could only speak! + + "Ha' ye seen a' the men frae the braes and the glen, + Ha' ye seen them a' marchin' awa'? + Ha' ye seen a' the men frae the wee but-an'-ben, + And the gallants frae mansion and ha'?" + +I have said before that I do not want to tell you of the tales of +atrocities that I heard in France. I heard plenty--ayes and terrible +they were! But I dinna wish to harrow the feelings of those who read +more than I need, and I will leave that task to those who saw for +themselves with their eyes, when I had but my ears to serve me. Yet +there was one blood-chilling story that my boy John told to me, and +that the finding of that bit of Black Watch tartan brings to my mind. +He told it to me as we sat before the fire in my wee hoose at Dunoon, +just a few nights before he went back to the front for the last time. +We were talking of the war--what else was there to talk aboot? + +It was seldom that John touched on the harsher things he knew about +the war. He preferred, as a rule, to tell me stories of the courage +and the devotion of his men, and of the light way that they turned +things when there was so much chance for grief and care. + +"One night, Dad," he said, "we had a battalion of the Black Watch on +our right, and they made a pretty big raid on the German trenches. It +developed into a sizable action for any other war, but one trifling +enough and unimportant in this one. The Germans had been readier than +the Black Watch had supposed, and had reinforcements ready, and sixty +of the Highlanders were captured. The Germans took them back into +their trenches, and stripped them to the skin. Not a stitch or a rag +of clothing did they leave them, and, though it was April, it was a +bitter night, with a wind to cut even a man warmly clad to the bone. + +"All night they kept them there, standing at attention, stark naked, +so that they were half-frozen when the gray, cold light of the dawn +began to show behind them in the east. And then the Germans laughed, +and told their prisoners to go. + +"'Go on--go back to your own trenches, as you are!' they said. + +"The laddies of the Black Watch could scarcely believe their ears. +There was about seventy-five yards between the two trench lines at +that point, and the No Man's Land was rough going--all shell-pitted +as it was. By that time, too, of course, German repair parties had +mended all the wire before their trenches. So they faced a rough +journey, all naked as they were. But they started. + +"They got through the wire, with the Germans laughing fit to kill +themselves at the sight of the streaks of blood showing on their +white skins as the wire got in its work. They laughed at them, Dad! +And then, when they were halfway across the No Man's Land they +understood, at last, why the Germans had let them go. For fire was +opened on them with machine guns. Everyone was mowed down--everyone +of those poor, naked, bleeding lads was killed--murdered by that +treacherous fire from behind! + +"We heard all the details of that dirty bit of treachery later. We +captured some German prisoners from that very trench. Fritz is a +decent enough sort, sometimes, and there were men there whose +stomachs were turned by that sight, so that they were glad to creep +over, later, and surrender. They told us, with tears in their eyes. +But we had known, before that. We had needed no witnesses except the +bodies of the boys. It had been too dark for the men in our trenches +to see what was going on--and a burst of machine gun-fire, along the +trenches, is nothing to get curious or excited about. But those naked +bodies, lying there in the No Man's Land, had told us a good deal. + +"Dad--that was an awful sight! I was in command of one of the burying +parties we had to send out." + +That was the tale I thought of when I found that bit of the Black +Watch tartan. And I remembered, too, that it was with the Black Watch +that John Poe, the famous American football player from Princeton, +met his death in a charge. He had been offered a commission, but he +preferred to stay with the boys in the ranks. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +We left our motor cars behind us in Arras, for to-day we were to go +to a front-line trench, and the climax of my whole trip, so far as I +could foresee, was at hand. Johnson and the wee piano had to stay +behind, too--we could not expect to carry even so tiny an instrument +as that into a front-line trench! Once more we had to don steel +helmets, but there was a great difference between these and the ones +we had had at Vimy Ridge. Mine fitted badly, and kept sliding down +over my ears, or else slipping way down to the back of my head. It +must have given me a grotesque look, and it was most uncomfortable. +So I decided I would take it off and carry it for a while. + +"You'd better keep it on, Harry," Captain Godfrey advised me. "This +district is none too safe, even right here, and it gets worse as we go +along. A whistling Percy may come along looking for you any minute." + +That is the name of a shell that is good enough to advertise its +coming by a whistling, shrieking sound. I could hear Percies +whistling all around, and see them spattering up the ground as they +struck, not so far away, but they did not seem to be coming in our +direction. So I decided I would take a chance. + +"Well," I said, as I took the steel hat off, "I'll just keep this +bonnet handy and slip it on if I see Percy coming." + +But later I was mighty glad of even an ill-fitting steel helmet! + +Several staff officers from the Highland Brigade had joined the +Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour by now. Affable, pleasant gentlemen +they were, and very eager to show us all there was to be seen. And +they had more sights to show their visitors than most hosts have! + +We were on ground now that had been held by the Germans before the +British had surged forward all along this line in the April battle. +Their old trenches, abandoned now, ran like deep fissures through the +soil. They had been pretty well blasted to pieces by the British +bombardment, but a good many of their deep, concrete dugouts had +survived. These were not being used by the British here, but were +saved in good repair as show places, and the officers who were our +guides took us down into some of them. + +Rarely comfortable they must have been, too! They had been the homes +of German officers, and the Hun officers did themselves very well +indeed when they had the chance. They had electric light in their +cave houses. To be sure they had used German wall paper, and +atrociously ugly stuff it was, too. But it pleased their taste, no +doubt. Mightily amazed some of Fritz's officers must have been, back +in April, as they sat and took their ease in these luxurious +quarters, to have Jock come tumbling in upon them, a grenade in each +hand! + +Our men might have used these dugouts, and been snug enough in them, +but they preferred air and ventilation, and lived in little huts +above the ground. I left our party and went around among them and, to +my great satisfaction, found, as I had been pretty sure I would, a +number of old acquaintances and old admirers who came crowding around +me to shake hands. I made a great collection of souvenirs here, for +they insisted on pressing trophies upon me. + +"Tak them, Harry," said one after another. "We can get plenty more +where they came from!" + +One laddie gave me a helmet with a bullet hole through the skip, and +another presented me with one of the most interesting souvenirs of +all I carried home from France. That was a German sniper's outfit. It +consisted of a suit of overalls, waterproofed. If a man had it on he +would be completely covered, from head to foot, with just a pair of +slits for his eyes to peep out of, and another for his mouth, so that +he could breathe. It was cleverly painted the color of a tree--part +of it like the bark, part green, like leaves sprouting from it. + +"Eh, Jock," I asked the laddie who gave it to me. "A thing like yon's +hard to be getting, I'm thinking?" + +"Oh, not so very hard," he answered, carelessly. "You've got to be a +good shot." And he wore medals that showed he was! "All you've got to +do, Harry, is to kill the chap inside it before he kills you! The +fellow who used to own that outfit you've got hid himself in the fork +of a tree, and, as you may guess, he looked like a branch of the tree +itself. He was pretty hard to spot. But I got suspicious of him, from +the way bullets were coming over steadily, and I decided that that +tree hid a sniper. + +"After that it was just a question of being patient. It was no so +long before I was sure, and then I waited--until I saw that branch +move as no branch of a tree ever did move. I fired then--and got him! +He was away outside of his lines, and that nicht I slipped out and +brought back this outfit. I wanted to see how it was made." + +An old, grizzled sergeant of the Black Watch gave me a German revolver. + +"How came you to get this?" I asked him. + +"It was an acceedent, Harry," he said. "We were raiding a trench, do +you ken, and I was in a sap when a German officer came along, and we +bumped into one another. He looked at me, and I at him. I think he +was goin' to say something, but I dinna ken what it was he had on his +mind. That _was_ his revolver you've got in your hand now." + +And then he thrust his hand into his pocket. + +"Here's the watch he used to carry, too," he said. It was a thick, +fat-bellied affair, of solid gold. "It's a bit too big, but it's a +rare good timekeeper." + +Soon after that an officer gave me another trophy that is, perhaps, +even more interesting than the sniper's suit. It is rarer, at least. +It is a small, sweet-toned bell that used to hang in a wee church in +the small village of Athies, on the Scarpe, about a mile and a half +from Arras. The Germans wiped out church and village, but in some odd +way they found the bell and saved it. They hung it in their trenches, +and it was used to sound a gas alarm. On both sides a signal is given +when the sentry sees that there is to be a gas attack, in order that +the men may have time to don the clumsy gas masks that are the only +protection against the deadly fumes. The wee bell is eight inches +high, maybe, and I have never heard a lovelier tone. + +"That bell has rung men to worship, and it has rung them to death," +said the officer who gave it to me. + +Presently I was called back to my party, after I had spent some time +with the lads in their huts. A general had joined the party now, and +he told me, with a smile, that I was to go up to the trenches, if I +cared to do so. I will not say I was not a bit nervous, but I was +glad to go, for a' that! It was the thing that had brought me to +France, after a'. + +So we started, and by now I was glad to wear my steel hat, fit or no +fit. I was to give an entertainment in the trenches, and so we set +out. Pretty soon I was climbing a steep railroad embankment, and when +we slid down on the other side we found the trenches--wide, deep gaps +in the earth, and all alive with men. We got into the trenches +themselves by means of ladders, and the soldiers came swarming about +me with yells of "Hello, Harry! Welcome, Harry!" + +They were told that I had come to sing for them, and so, with no +further preliminaries, I began my concert. I started with my favorite +opening song, as usual--"Roamin' in the Gloamin'," and then went on +with the other old favorites. I told a lot of stories, too, and then +I came to "The Laddies Who Fought and Won." None of the men had heard +it, but there were officers there who had seen "Three Cheers" during +the winter when they had had a short leave to run over to London. + +I got through the first verse all right, and was just swinging into +the first chorus when, without the least warning, hell popped open in +that trench. A missile came in that some officer at once hailed as a +whizz bang. It is called that, for that is just exactly the sound it +makes. It is like a giant firecracker, and it would be amusing if one +did not know it was deadly. These missiles are not fired by the big +guns behind the lines, but by the small trench cannon--worked, as a +rule, by compressed air. The range is very short, but they are +capable of great execution at that range. + +Was I frightened? I must have been! I know I felt a good deal as I +have done when I have been seasick. And I began to think at once of +all sorts of places where I would rather have been than in that +trench! I was standing on a slight elevation at the back, or parados, +of the trench, so that I was raised a bit above my audience, and I +had a fine view of that deadly thing, wandering about, spitting fire +and metal parts. It traveled so that the men could dodge it, but it +was throwing oft slugs that you could neither see nor dodge, and it +was a poor place to be! + +And the one whizz bang was not enough to suit Fritz. It was followed +immediately by a lot more, that came popping in and making themselves +as unpleasant as you could imagine. I watched the men about me, and +they seemed to be unconcerned, and to be thinking much more of me and +my singing than of the whizz bangs. So, no matter how I felt, there +was nothing for me to do but to keep on with my song. I decided that +I must really be safe enough, no matter how I felt. But I had certain +misgivings on the subject. Still, I managed to go on with my song, +and I think I was calm enough to look at--though, if I was, my +appearance wholly belied my true inward feelings. + +I struggled through to the end of the chorus--and I think I sang +pretty badly, although I don't know. But I was pretty sure the end of +the world had come for me, and that these laddies were taking things +as calmly as they were simply because they were used to it, and it +was all in the day's work for them. The Germans were fairly sluicing +that trench by now. The whizz bangs were popping over us like giant +fire-crackers, going off one and two and three at a time. And the +trench was full of flying slugs and chunks of dirt, striking against +our faces and hurtling all about us. + +There I was. I had a good "house." I wanted to please my audience. +Was it no a trying situation? I thought Fritz might have had manners +enough to wait until I had finished my concert, at least! But the Hun +has no manners, as all the world knows. + +Along that embankment we had climbed to reach the trenches, and not +very far from the bit of trench in which I was singing, there was a +railroad bridge of some strategic importance. And now a shell hit +that bridge--not a whizz bang, but a real, big shell. It exploded +with a hideous screech, as if the bridge were some human thing being +struck, and screaming out its agony. The soldiers looked at me, and I +saw some of them winking. They seemed to be mighty interested in the +way I was taking all this. I looked back at them, and then at a +Highland colonel who was listening to my singing as quietly and as +carefully as if he had been at a stall in Covent Garden during the +opera season. He caught my glance. + +"I think they're coming it a bit thick, Lauder, old chap," he +remarked, quietly. + +"I quite agree with you, colonel," I said. I tried to ape his voice +and manner, but I wasn't so quiet as he. + +Now there came a ripping, tearing sound in the air, and a veritable +cloudburst of the damnable whizz bangs broke over us. That settled +matters. There were no orders, but everyone turned, just as if it +were a meeting, and a motion to adjourn had been put and carried +unanimously. We all ran for the safety holes or dugouts in the side +of the embankment. And I can tell ye that the Reverend Harry Lauder, +M.P., Tour were no the last ones to reach those shelters! No, we were +by no means the last! + +I ha' no doot that I might have improved upon the shelter that I +found, had I had time to pick and choose. But any shelter was good +just then, and I was glad of mine, and of a chance to catch my +breath. Afterward, I saw a picture by Captain Bairnsfather that made +me laugh a good deal, because it represented so exactly the way I +felt. He had made a drawing of two Tommies in a wee bit of a hole in +a field that was being swept by shells and missiles of every sort. +One was grousing to his mate, and the other said to him: + +"If you know a better 'ole go 'ide in it!" + +I said we all turned and ran for cover. But there was one braw laddie +who did nothing of the sort. He would not run--such tricks were not +for him! + +He was a big Hie'land laddie, and he wore naught but his kilt and his +semmet--his undershirt. He had on his steel helmet, and it shaded a +face that had not been shaved or washed for days. His great, brawny +arms were folded across his chest, and he was smoking his pipe. And +he stood there as quiet and unconcerned as if he had been a village +smith gazing down a quiet country road. I watched him, and he saw me, +and grinned at me. And now and then he glanced at me, quizzically. + +"It's all right, Harry," he said, several times. "Dinna fash +yoursel', man. I'll tell ye in time for ye to duck if I see one +coming your way!" + +We crouched in our holes until there came a brief lull in the +bombardment. Probably the Germans thought they had killed us all and +cleared the trench, or maybe it had been only that they hadn't liked +my singing, and had been satisfied when they had stopped it. So we +came out, but the firing was not over at all, as we found out at +once. So we went down a bit deeper, into concrete dugouts. + +This trench had been a part of the intricate German defensive system +far back of their old front line, and they had had the pains of +building and hollowing out the fine dugout into which I now went for +shelter. Here they had lived, deep under the earth, like animals--and +with animals, too. For when I reached the bottom a dog came to meet +me, sticking out his red tongue to lick my hand, and wagging his tail +as friendly as you please. + +He was a German dog--one of the prisoners of war taken in the great +attack. His old masters hadn't bothered to call him and take him with +them when the Highlanders came along, and so he had stayed behind as +part of the spoils of the attack. + +That wasn't much of a dog, as dogs go. He was a mongrel-looking +creature, but he couldn't have been friendlier. The Highlanders had +adopted him and called him Fritz, and they were very fond of him, and +he of them. He had no thought of war. He behaved just as dogs do at hame. + +But above us the horrid din was still going on, and bits of shells +were flying everywhere--anyone of them enough to kill you, if it +struck you in the right spot. I was glad, I can tell ye, that I was +so snug and safe beneath the ground, and I had no mind at all to go +out until the bombardment was well over. I knew now what it was +really to be under fire. The casual sort of shelling I had had to +fear at Vimy Ridge was nothing to this. This was the real thing. + +And then I thought that what I was experiencing for a few minutes was +the daily portion of these laddies who were all aboot me--not for a +few minutes, but for days and weeks and months at a time. And it came +home to me again, and stronger than ever, what they were doing for us +folks at hame, and how we ought to be feeling for them. + +The heavy firing went on for three-quarters of an hour, at least. We +could hear the chugging of the big guns, and the sorrowful swishing +of the shells, as if they were mournful because they were not +wreaking more destruction than they were. It all moved me greatly, +but I could see that the soldiers thought nothing of it, and were +quite unperturbed by the fearful demonstration that was going on +above. They smoked and chatted, and my own nerves grew calmer. + +Finally there seemed to come a real lull in the row above, and I +turned to the general. + +"Isn't it near time for me to be finishing my concert, sir?" I asked +him. + +"Very good," he said, jumping up. "Just as you say, Lauder." + +So back we went to where I had begun to sing. My audience +reassembled, and I struck up "The Laddies Who Fought and Won" again. +It seemed, somehow, the most appropriate song I could have picked to +sing in that spot! I finished, this time, but there was some discord +in the closing bars, for the Germans were still at their shelling, +sporadically. + +So I finished, and I said good-by to the men who were to stay in the +trench, guarding that bit of Britain's far flung battleline. And then +the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour was ready to go back--not to +safety, at once, but to a region far less infested by the Hun than +this one where we had been such warmly received visitors! + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +I was sorry to be leaving the Highland laddies in that trench. Aye! +But for the trench itself I had nae regrets--nae, none whatever! I +know no spot on the surface of this earth, of all that I have +visited, and I have been in many climes, that struck me as less +salubrious than you bit o' trench. There were too many other visitors +there that day, along with the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour. +They were braw laddies, yo, but no what you might call +over-particular about the company they kept! I'd thank them, if they'd +be havin' me to veesit them again, to let me come by my ain! + +Getting away was not the safest business in the world, either, +although it was better than staying in yon trench. We had to make our +way back to the railway embankment, and along it for a space, and the +embankment was being heavily shelled. It was really a trench line +itself, full of dugouts, and as we made our way along heads popped in +all directions, topped by steel helmets. I was eager to be on the +other side of you embankment, although I knew well enough that there +was no sanctuary on either side of it, nor for a long space behind it. + +That was what they called the Frenchy railway cutting, and it +overlooked the ruined village of Athies. And not until after I had +crossed it was I breathing properly. I began, then, to feel more like +myself, and my heart and all my functions began to be more normal. + +All this region we had to cross now was still under fire, but the +fire was nothing to what it had been. The evidences of the terrific +bombardments there had been were plainly to be seen. Every scrap of +exposed ground had been nicked by shells; the holes were as close +together as those in a honeycomb. I could not see how any living +thing had come through that hell of fire, but many men had. Now the +embankment fairly buzzed with activity. The dugouts were everywhere, +and the way the helmeted heads popped out as we passed, inquiringly, +made me think of the prairie dog towns I had seen in Canada and the +western United States. + +The river Scarpe flowed close by. It was a narrow, sluggish stream, +and it did not look to me worthy of its famous name. But often, that +spring, its slow-moving waters had been flecked by a bloody froth, +and the bodies of brave men had been hidden by them, and washed clean +of the trench mud. Now, uninviting as its aspect was, and sinister as +were the memories it must have evoked in other hearts beside my own, +it was water. And on so hot a day water was a precious thing to men +who had been working as the laddies hereabout had worked and labored. + +So either bank was dotted with naked bodies, and the stream itself +showed head after head, and flashing white arms as men went swimming. +Some were scrubbing themselves, taking a Briton's keen delight in a +bath, no matter what the circumstances in which he gets it; others +were washing their clothes, slapping and pounding the soaked garments +in a way to have wrung the hearts of their wives, had they seen them +at it. The British soldier, in the field, does many things for +himself that folks at hame never think of! But many of the men were +just lying on the bank, sprawled out and sunning themselves like +alligators, basking in the warm sunshine and soaking up rest and +good cheer. + +It looked like a good place for a concert, and so I quickly gathered +an audience of about a thousand men from the dugouts in the +embankment and obeyed their injunctions to "Go it, Harry! Gie us a +song, do now!" + +As I finished my first song my audience applauded me and cheered me +most heartily, and the laddies along the banks of the Scarpe heard +them, and came running up to see what was afoot. There were no ladies +thereabout, and they did not stand on a small matter like getting +dressed! Not they! They came running just as they were, and Adam, +garbed in his fig leaf, was fully clad compared to most of them. It +was the barest gallery I ever saw, and the noisiest, too, and the +most truly appreciative. + +High up above us airplanes were circling, so high that we could not +tell from which side they came, except when we saw some of them being +shelled, and so knew that they belonged to Fritz. They looked like +black pinheads against the blue cushion of the sky, and no doubt that +they were vastly puzzled as to the reason of this gathering of naked +men. What new tricks were the damned English up to now? So I have no +doubt, they were wondering! It was the business of their observers, +of course, to spot just such gatherings as ours, although I did not +think of that just then--except to think that they might drop a bomb +or two, maybe. + +But scouting airplanes, such as those were, do not go in for bomb +dropping. There are three sorts of airplanes. First come the scouting +planes--fairly fast, good climbers, able to stay in the air a long +time. Their business is just to spy out the lay of the land over the +enemy's trenches--not to fight or drop bombs. Then come the swift, +powerful bombing planes, which make raids, flying long distances to +do so. The Huns use such planes to bomb unprotected towns and kill +women and babies; ours go in for bombing ammunition dumps and trains +and railway stations and other places of military importance, +although, by now, they may be indulging in reprisals for some of +Fritz's murderous raids, as so many folk at hame in Britain have +prayed they would. + +Both scouting and bombing planes are protected by the fastest flyers +of all--the battle planes, as they are called. These fight other +planes in the air, and it is the men who steer them and fight their +guns who perform the heroic exploits that you may read of every day. +But much of the great work in the air is done by the scouting planes, +which take desperate chances, and find it hard to fight back when +they are attacked. And it was scouts who were above us now--and, +doubtless, sending word back by wireless of a new and mysterious +concentration of British forces along the Scarpe, which it might be a +good thing for the Hun artillery to strafe a bit! + +So, before very long, a rude interruption came to my songs, in the +way of shells dropped unpleasantly close. The men so far above us had +given their guns the range, and so, although the gunners could not +see us, they could make their presence felt. + +I have never been booed or hissed by an audience, since I have been +on the stage. I understand that it is a terrible and a disconcerting +experience, and one calculated to play havoc with the stoutest of +nerves. It is an experience I am by no means anxious to have, I can +tell you! But I doubt if it could seem worse to me than the +interruption of a shell. The Germans, that day, showed no ear for +music, and no appreciation of art--my art, at least! + +And so it seemed well to me to cut my programme, to a certain extent, +at least, and bid farewell to my audience, dressed and undressed. It +was a performance at which it did not seem to me a good idea to take +any curtain calls. I did not miss them, nor feel slighted because +they were absent. I was too glad to get away with a whole skin! + +The shelling became very furious now. Plainly the Germans meant to +take no chances. They couldn't guess what the gathering their +airplanes had observed might portend, but, if they could, they meant +to defeat its object, whatever that might be. Well, they did not +succeed, but they probably had the satisfaction of thinking that they +had, and I, for one, do not begrudge them that. They forced the +Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour to make a pretty wide detour, away +from the river, to get back to the main road. But they fired a power +of shells to do so! + +When we finally reached the road I heard a mad sputtering behind. I +looked around in alarm, because it sounded, for all the world, like +one of those infernal whizz bangs, chasing me. But it was not. The +noise came from a motor cycle, and its rider dashed up to me and +dropped one foot to the ground. + +"Here's a letter for you, Harry," he said. + +It was a package that he handed me. I was surprised--I was not +expecting to have a post delivered to me on the battlefield of Arras! +It turned out that the package contained a couple of ugly-looking +bits of shell, and a letter from my friends the Highlanders on the +other side of the railway embankment. They wrote to thank me for +singing for them, and said they hoped I was none the worse for the +bombardment I had undergone. + +"These bits of metal are from the shell that was closest to you when +it burst," their spokesman wrote. "They nearly got you, and we +thought you'd like to have them to keep for souvenirs." + +It seemed to me that that was a singularly calm and phlegmatic +letter! My nerves were a good deal overwrought, as I can see now. + +Now we made our way slowly back to division headquarters, and there I +found that preparations had been made for very much the most +ambitious and pretentious concert that I had yet had a chance to give +in France. There was a very large audience, and a stage or platform +had been set up, with plenty of room on it for Johnson and his piano. +It had been built in a great field, and all around me, when I mounted +it, I could see kilted soldiers--almost as far as my eye could reach. +There were many thousands of them there--indeed, all of the Highland +Brigade that was not actually on duty at the moment was present, and +a good many other men beside, for good measure. + +Here was a sight to make a Scots heart leap with pride! Here, before +me, was the flower of Scottish manhood. These regiments had been +through a series of battles, not so long since, that had sadly +thinned their ranks. Many a Scottish grave had been filled that +spring; many a Scottish heart at hame had been broken by sad news +from this spot. But there they were now, before me--their ranks +filled up again, splendid as they stretched out, eager to welcome me +and cheer me. There were tears in my eyes as I looked around at them. + +Massed before me were all the best men Scotland had had to offer! All +these men had breathed deep of the hellish air of war. All had +marched shoulder to shoulder and skirt to skirt with death. All were +of my country and my people. My heart was big within me with pride of +them, and that I was of their race, as I stood up to sing for them. + +Johnson was waiting for me to be ready. Little "Tinkle Tom," as we +called the wee piano, was not very large, but there were times when +he had to be left behind. I think he was glad to have us back again, +and to be doing his part, instead of leaving me to sing alone, +without his stout help. + +Many distinguished officers were in that great assemblage. They all +turned out to hear me, as well as the men, and among them I saw many +familiar faces and old friends from hame. But there were many faces, +too, alas, that I did not see. And when I inquired for them later I +learned that many of them I had seen for the last time. Oh, the sad +news I learned, day after day, oot there in France! Friend after +friend of whom I made inquiry was known, to be sure. They could tell +me where, and when, and how, they had been killed. + +Up above us, as I began to sing, our airplanes were circling. No +Boche planes were in sight now, I had been told, but there were many +of ours. And sometimes one came swooping down, its occupants curious, +no doubt, as to what might be going on, and the hum of its huge +propeller would make me falter a bit in my song. And once or twice +one flew so low and so close that I was almost afraid it would strike +me, and I would dodge in what I think was mock alarm, much to the +amusement of the soldiers. + +I had given them two songs when a big man arose, far back in the +crowd. He was a long way from me, but his great voice carried to me +easily, so that I could hear every word he said. + +"Harry," he shouted, "sing us 'The Wee Hoose Amang the Heather' and +we'll a' join in the chorus!" + +For a moment I could only stare out at them. Between that sea of +faces, upraised to mine, and my eyes, there came another face--the +smiling, bonnie face of my boy John, that I should never see again +with mortal eyes. That had been one of his favorite songs for many +years. I hesitated. It was as if a gentle hand had plucked at my very +heart strings, and played upon them. Memory--memories of my boy, +swept over me in a flood. I felt a choking in my throat, and the +tears welled into my eyes. + +But then I began to sing, making a signal to Johnson to let me sing +alone. And when I came to the chorus, true to the big Highlander's +promise, they all did join in the chorus! And what a chorus that was! +Thousands of men were singing. + + "There's a wee hoose amang the heather, + There's a wee hoose o'er the sea. + There's a lassie in that wee hoose + Waiting patiently for me. + She's the picture of perfection-- + I would na tell a lee + If ye saw her ye would love her + Just the same as me!" + +My voice was very shaky when I came to the end of that chorus, but +the great wave of sound from the kilted laddies rolled out, true and +full, unshaken, unbroken. They carried the air as steadily as a ship +is carried upon a rolling sea. + +I could sing no more for them, and then, as I made my way, unsteadily +enough, from the platform, music struck up that was the sweetest I +could have heard. Some pipers had come together, from twa or three +regiments, unknown to me, and now, very softly, their pipes began to +skirl. They played the tune that I love best, "The Drunken Piper." I +could scarcely see to pick my way, for the tears that blinded me, but +in my ears, as I passed away from them, there came, gently wailing on +the pipes, the plaintive plea-- + + "Will ye no come back again?" + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Now it was time to take to the motor cars again, and I was glad of +the thought that we would have a bracing ride. I needed something of +the sort, I thought. My emotions had been deeply stirred, in many +ways, that day. I felt tired and quite exhausted. This was by all +odds the most strenuous day the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour had +put in yet in France. So I welcomed the idea of sitting back +comfortably in the car and feeling the cool wind against my cheeks. + +First, however, the entertainers were to be entertained. They took +us, the officers of the divisional staff, to a hut, where we were +offered our choice of tea or a wee hauf yin. There was good Scots +whisky there, but it was the tea I wanted. It was very hot in the +sun, and I had done a deal of clambering about. So I was glad, after +all, to stay in the shade a while and rest my limbs. + +Getting out through Arras turned out to be a ticklish business. The +Germans were verra wasteful o' their shells that day, considering how +much siller they cost! They were pounding away, and more shells, by a +good many, were falling in Arras than had been the case when we +arrived at noon. So I got a chance to see how the ruin that had been +wrought had been accomplished. + +Arras is a wonderful sight, noble and impressive even in its +destruction. But it was a sight that depressed me. It had angered me, +at first, but now I began to think, at each ruined house that I saw: +"Suppose this were at hame in Scotland!" And when such thoughts came +to me I thanked God for the brave lads I had seen that day who stood, +out here, holding the line, and so formed a bulwark between Scotland +and such black ruin as this. + +We were to start for Tramecourt now, but on the way we were to make a +couple of stops. Our way was to take us through St. Pol and Hesdin, +and, going so, we came to the town of Le Quesnoy. Here some of the +11th Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders were stationed. My heart +leaped at the sight of them. That had been my boy's regiment, +although he had belonged to a different battalion, and it was with +the best will in the world that I called a halt and gave them a +concert. + +I gave two more concerts, both brief ones, on the rest of the +journey, and so it was quite dark when we approached the chateau at +Tramecourt. As we came up I became aware of a great stir and movement +that was quite out of the ordinary routine there. In the grounds I +could see tiny lights moving about, like fireflies--lights that came, +I thought, from electric torches. + +"Something extraordinary must be going on here," I remarked to Captain +Godfrey. "I wonder if General Haig has arrived, by any chance?" + +"We'll soon know what it's all about," he said, philosophically. But +I expect he knew already. + +Before the chateau there was a brilliant spot of light, standing out +vividly against the surrounding darkness. I could not account for +that brilliantly lighted spot then. But we came into it as the car +stopped; it was a sort of oasis of light in an inky desert of +surrounding gloom. And as we came full into it and I stood up to +descend from the car, stretching my tired, stiff legs, the silence +and the darkness were split by three tremendous cheers. + +It wasn't General Haig who was arriving! It was Harry Lauder! + +"What's the matter here?" I called, as loudly as I could. + +"Been waitin' for ye a couple of 'ours, 'Arry," called a loud cockney +voice in answer. "Go it now! Get it off your chest!" Then came +explanations. It seemed that a lot of soldiers, about four hundred +strong, who were working on a big road job about ten miles from +Tramecourt, had heard of my being there, and had decided to come over +in a body and beg for a concert. They got to the chateau early, and +were told it might be eleven o'clock before I got back. But they didn't +care--they said they'd wait all night, if they had to, to get a chance +to hear me. And they made some use of the time they had to wait. + +They took three big acetylene headlights from motor cars, and +connected them up. There was a little porch at the entrance of the +chateau, with a short flight of steps leading up to it, and then we +decided that that would make an excellent makeshift theater. Since it +would be dark they decided they must have lights, so that they could +see me--just as in a regular theater at hame! That was where the +headlights they borrowed from motor cars came in. They put one on +each side of the porch and one off in front, so that all the light +was centered right on the porch itself, and it was bathed in as +strong a glare as ever I sang in on the stage. It was almost +blinding, indeed, as I found when I turned to face them and to sing +for them. Needless to say, late though it was and tired as I was, I +never thought of refusing to give them the concert they wanted! + +I should have liked to eat my dinner first, but I couldn't think of +suggesting it. These boys had done a long, hard day's work. Then they +had marched ten miles, and, on top of all that, had waited two hours +for me and fixed up a stage and a lighting system. They were quite as +tired as I, I decided--and they had done a lot more. And so I told +the faithful Johnson to bring wee Tinkle Tom along, and get him up to +the little stage, and I faced my audience in the midst of a storm of +the ghostliest applause I ever hope to hear! + +I could hear them, do you ken, but I could no see a face before me! +In the theater, bright though the footlights are, and greatly as they +dim what lies beyond them, you can still see the white faces of your +audience. At least, you do see something--your eyes help you to know +the audience is there, and, gradually, you can see perfectly, and +pick out a face, maybe, and sing to some one person in the audience, +that you may be sure of your effects. + +It was utter, Stygian darkness that lay beyond the pool of blinding +light in which I stood. Gradually I did make out a little of what lay +beyond, very close to me. I could see dim outlines of human bodies +moving around. And now I was sure there were fireflies about. But +then they stayed so still that I realized, suddenly, with a smile, +just what they were--the glowing ends of cigarettes, of course! + +There were many tall poplar trees around the chateau. I knew where to +look for them, but that night I could scarcely see them. I tried to +find them, for it was a strange, weird sensation to be there as I +was, and I wanted all the help fixed objects could give me. I managed +to pick out their feathery lines in the black distance--the darkness +made them seem more remote than they were, really. Their branches, +when I found them, waved like spirit arms, and I could hear the wind +whispering and sighing among the topmost branches. + +Now and then what we call in Scotland a "batty bird" skimmed past my +face, attracted, I suppose, by the bright light. I suppose that bats +that have not been disturbed before for generations have been aroused +by the blast of war through all that region and have come out of dark +cavernous hiding-places, as those that night must have done, to see +what it is all about, the tumult and the shouting! + +They were verra disconcertin', those bats! They bothered me almost as +much as the whizz bangs had done, earlier in the day! They swished +suddenly out of the darkness against my face, and I would start back, +and hear a ripple of laughter run through that unseen audience of +mine. Aye, it was verra funny for them, but I did not like that part +of it a bit! No man likes to have a bat touch his skin. And I had to +duck quickly to evade those winged cousins of the mouse--and then +hear a soft guffaw arising as I did it. + +I have appeared, sometimes, in theaters in which it was pretty +difficult to find the audience. And such audiences have been nearly +impossible to trace, later, in the box-office reports. But that is +the first time in my life, and, up to now, the last, that I ever sang +to a totally invisible audience! I did not know then how many men +there might have been forty, or four hundred, or four thousand. And, +save for the titters that greeted my encounters with the bats, they +were amazingly quiet as they waited for me to sing. + +It was just about ten minutes before eleven when I began to sing, and +the concert wasn't over until after midnight. I was distinctly +nervous as I began the verse of my first song. It was a great relief +when there was a round of applause; that helped to place my audience +and give me its measure, at once. + +But I was almost as disconcerted a bit later as I had been by the +first incursion of the bats. I came to the chorus, and suddenly, out +of the darkness, there came a perfect gale of sound. It was the men +taking up the chorus, thundering it out. They took the song clean +away from me--I could only gasp and listen. The roar from that unseen +chorus almost took my feet from under me, so amazing was it, and so +unexpected, somehow, used as I was to having soldiers join in a +chorus with me, and disappointed as I should have been had they ever +failed to do so. + +But after that first song, when I knew what to expect, I soon grew +used to the strange surroundings. The weirdness and the mystery wore +off, and I began to enjoy myself tremendously. The conditions were +simply ideal; indeed, they were perfect, for the sentimental songs +that soldiers always like best. Imagine how "Roamin' in the Gloamin'" +went that nicht! + +I had meant to sing three or four songs. But instead I sang nearly +every song I knew. It was one of the longest programmes I gave during +the whole tour, and I enjoyed the concert, myself, better than any I +had yet given. + +My audience was growing all the time, although I did not know that. +The singing brought up crowds from the French village, who gathered +in the outskirts of the throng to listen--and, I make no doubt, to +pass amazed comments on these queer English! + +At last I was too tired to go on. And so I bade the lads good-nicht, +and they gave me a great cheer, and faded away into the blackness. +And I went inside, rubbing my eyes, and wondering if it was no all +a dream! + +"It wasn't Sir Douglas Haig who arrived, was it, Harry?" Godfrey +said, slyly. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The next morning I was tired, as you may believe. I ached in every +limb when I went to my room that night, but a hot bath and a good +sleep did wonders for me. No bombardment could have kept me awake +that nicht! I would no ha' cared had the Hun begun shelling +Tramecourt itself, so long as he did not shell me clear out of my +bed. + +Still, in the morning, though I had not had so much sleep as I would +have liked, I was ready to go when we got the word. We made about as +early a start as usual--breakfast soon after daylight, and then out +the motor cars and to wee Tinkle Tom. Our destination that day, our +first, at least, was Albert--a town as badly smashed and battered as +Arras or Ypres. These towns were long thinly held by the British-- +that is, they were just within our lines, and the Hun could rake them +with his fire at his own evil will. + +It did him no good to batter them to pieces as he did. He wasted +shells upon them that must have been precious to him. His treatment +of them was but a part of his wicked, wanton spirit of +destructiveness. He could not see a place standing that he did not +want to destroy, I think. It was not war he made, as the world had +known war; it was a savage raid against every sign and evidence of +civilization, and comfort and happiness. But always, as I think I +have said before, one thing eluded him. It was the soul of that which +he destroyed. That was beyond his reach, and sore it must have +grieved him to come to know it--for come to know it he has, in +France, and in Belgium, too. + +We passed through a wee town called Doullens on our way from +Tramecourt to Albert. And there, that morn, I saw an old French nun; +an aged woman, a woman old beyond all belief or reckoning. I think +she is still there, where I saw her that day. Indeed, it has seemed +to me, often, as I have thought upon her, that she will always be +there, gliding silently through the deserted streets of that wee +toon, on through all the ages that are to come, and always a cowled, +veiled figure of reproach and hatred for the German race. + +There is some life in that wee place now. There are no more Germans, +and no more shells come there. The battle line has been carried on. +to the East by the British; here they have redeemed a bit of France +from the German yoke. And so we could stop there, in the heat of the +morning, for a bit of refreshment at a cafe that was once, I suppose, +quite a place in that sma' toon. It does but little business now; +passing soldiers bring it some trade, but nothing like what it used +to have. For this is not a town much frequented by troops--or was +not, just at that time. + +There was some trouble, too, with one of the cars, so we went for a +short walk through the town. It was then that we met that old French +nun. Her face and her hands were withered, and deeply graven with the +lines of the years that had bowed her head. Her back was bent, and +she walked slowly and with difficulty. But in her eyes was a soft, +young light that I have often seen in the eyes of priests and nuns, +and that their comforting religion gives them. But as we talked I +spoke of the Germans. + +Gone from her eyes was all their softness. They flashed a bitter and +contemptuous hatred. + +"The Germans!" she said. She spat upon the ground, scornfully, and +with a gesture of infinite loathing. And every time she uttered that +hated word she spat again. It was a ceremony she used; she felt, I +know, that her mouth was defiled by that word, and she wished to +cleanse it. It was no affectation, as, with some folk, you might have +thought it. It was not a studied act. She did it, I do believe, +unconsciously. And it was a gesture marvelously expressive. It spoke +more eloquently of her feelings than many words could have done. + +She had seen the Germans! Aye! She had seen them come, in 1914, in +the first days of the war, rolling past in great, gray waves, for +days and days, as if the flood would never cease to roll. She had +seen them passing, with their guns, in those first proud days of the +war, when they had reckoned themselves invincible, and been so sure +of victory. She knew what cruelties, what indignities, they had put +upon the helpless people the war had swept into their clutch. She +knew the defilements of which they had been guilty. + +Nor was that the first time she had seen Germans. They had come +before she was so old, though even then she had not been a young +girl--in the war of 1870, when Europe left brave France to her fate, +because the German spirit and the German plan were not appreciated or +understood. Thank God the world had learned its lesson by 1914, when +the Hun challenged it again, so that the challenge was met and taken +up, and France was not left alone to bear the brunt of German greed +and German hate. + +She hated the Germans, that old French nun. She was religious; she +knew the teachings of her church. She knew that God says we must love +our enemies. But He could not expect us to love His enemies. + +Albert, when we came to it, we found a ruin indeed. The German guns +had beaten upon it until it was like a rubbish heap in the backyard +of hell. Their malice had wrought a ruin here almost worse than that +at Arras. Only one building had survived although it was crumbling to +ruin. That was a church, and, as we approached it, we could see, from +the great way off, a great gilded figure of the Holy Virgin, holding +in her arms the infant Christ. + +The figure leaned at such an angle, high up against the tottering +wall of the church, that it seemed that it must fall at the next +moment, even as we stared at it. But--it does not fall. Every breath +of wind that comes sets it to swaying, gently. When the wind rises to +a storm it must rock perilously indeed. But still it stays there, +hanging like an inspiration straight from Heaven to all who see it. +The peasants who gaze upon it each day in reverent awe whisper to +you, if you ask them, that when it falls at last the war will be +over, and France will be victorious. + +That is rank superstition, you say? Aye, it may be! But in the region +of the front everyone you meet has become superstitious, if that is +the word you choose. That is especially true of the soldiers. Every +man at the front, it seemed to me, was a fatalist. What is to be will +be, they say. It is certain that this feeling has helped to make them +indifferent to danger, almost, indeed, contemptuous of it. And in +France, I was told, almost everywhere there were shrines in which +figures of Christ or of His Mother had survived the most furious +shelling. All the world knows, too, how, at Rheims, where the great +Cathedral has been shattered in the wickedest and most wanton of all +the crimes of that sort that the Germans have to their account, the +statue of Jeanne d'Arc, who saved France long ago, stands untouched. + +How is a man to account for such things as that? Is he to put them +down to chance, to luck, to a blind fate? I, for one, cannot do so, +nor will I try to learn to do it. + +Fate, to be sure, is a strange thing, as my friends the soldiers know +so well. But there is a difference between fate, or chance, and the +sort of force that preserves statues like those I have named. A man +never knows his luck; he does well not to brood upon it. I remember +the case of a chap I knew, who was out for nearly three years, taking +part in great battles from Mons to Arras. He was scratched once or +twice, but was never even really wounded badly enough to go to +hospital. He went to London, at last, on leave, and within an hour of +the time when he stepped from his train at Charing Cross he was +struck by a 'bus and killed. And there was the strange ease of my +friend, Tamson, the baker, of which I told you earlier. No--a man +never knows his fate! + +So it seemed to me, as we drove toward Arras, and watched that +mysterious figure, that God Himself had chosen to leave it there, as +a sign and a warning and a promise all at once. There was no sign of +life, at first, when we came into the town. Silence brooded over the +ruins. We stopped to have a look around in that scene of desolation, +and as the motors throbbed beneath the hoods it seemed to me the +noise they made was close to being blasphemous. We were right under +that hanging figure of the Virgin and of Christ, and to have left the +silence unbroken would have been more seemly. + +But it was not long before the silence of the town was broken by +another sound. It was marching men we heard, but they were scuffling +with their feet as they came; they had not the rhythmic tread of most +of the British troops we had encountered. Nor were these men, when +they swung into sight, coming around a pile of ruins, just like any +British troops we had seen. I recognized them as once as Australians-- +Kangaroos, as their mates in other divisions called them--by the way +their campaign hats were looped up at one side. These were the first +Australian troops I had seen since I had sailed from Sydney, in the +early days of the war, nearly three years before. Three years! To +think of it--and of what those years had seen! + +"Here's a rare chance to give a concert!" I said, and held up my hand +to the officer in command. + +"Halt!" he cried, and then: "Stand at ease!" I was about to tell him +why I had stopped them, and make myself known to them when I saw a +grin rippling its way over all those bronzed faces--a grin of +recognition. And I saw that the officer knew me, too, even before a +loud voice cried out: + +"Good old Harry Lauder!" + +That was a good Scots voice--even though its owner wore the +Australian uniform. + +"Would the boys like to hear a concert?" I asked the officer. + +"That they would! By all means!" he said. "Glad of the chance! And +so'm I! I've heard you just once before--in Sydney, away back in the +summer of 1914." + +Then the big fellow who had called my name spoke up again. + +"Sing us 'Calligan,'" he begged. "Sing us 'Calligan,' Harry! I heard +you sing it twenty-three years agone, in Motherwell Toon Hall!" + +"Calligan!" The request for that song took me back indeed, through +all the years that I have been before the public. It must have been +at least twenty-three years since he had heard me sing that song--all +of twenty-three years. "Calligan" had been one of the very earliest +of my successes on the stage. I had not thought of the song, much +less sung it, for years and years. In fact, though I racked my +brains, I could not remember the words. And so, much as I should have +liked to do so, I could not sing it for him. But if he was +disappointed, he took it in good part, and he seemed to like some of +the newer songs I had to sing for them as well as he could ever have +liked old "Calligan." + +I sang for these Kangaroos a song I had not sung before in France, +because it seemed to be an especially auspicious time to try it. I +wrote it while I was in Australia, with a view, particularly, to +pleasing Australian audiences, and so repaying them, in some measure, +for the kindly way in which they treated me while I was there. I call +it "Australia Is the Land for Me," and this is the way it goes: + + There's a land I'd like to tell you all about + It's a land in the far South Sea. + It's a land where the sun shines nearly every day + It's the land for you and me. + It's the land for the man with the big strong arm + It's the land for big hearts, too. + It's a land we'll fight for, everything that's right for + Australia is the real true blue! + + Refrain: + + It's the land where the sun shines nearly every day + Where the skies are ever blue. + Where the folks are as happy as the day is long + And there's lots of work to do. + Where the soft winds blow and the gum trees grow + As far as the eye can see, + Where the magpie chaffs and the cuckoo-burra laughs + Australia is the land for me! + +Those Kangaroos took to that song as a duck takes to water! They +raised the chorus with me in a swelling roar as soon as they had +heard it once, to learn it, and their voices roared through the ruins +like vocal shrapnel. You could hear them whoop "Australia Is the Land +for Me!" a mile away. And if anything could have brought down that +tottering statue above us it would have been the way they sang. They +put body and soul, as well as voice, into that final patriotic +declaration of the song. + +We had thought--I speak for Hogge and Adam and myself, and not for +Godfrey, who did not have to think and guess, but know--we had +thought, when we rolled into Albert, that it was a city of the dead, +utterly deserted and forlorn. But now, as I went on singing, we found +that that idea had been all wrong. For as the Australians whooped up +their choruses other soldiers popped into sight. They came pouring +from all directions. + +I have seen few sights more amazing. They came from cracks and +crevices, as it seemed; from under tumbled heaps of ruins, and +dropping down from shells of houses where there were certainly no +stairs. As I live, before I had finished my audience had been swollen +to a great one of two thousand men! When they were all roaring out in +a chorus you could scarce hear Johnson's wee piano at all--it sounded +only like a feeble tinkle when there was a part for it alone. + +I began shaking hands, when I had finished singing. That was a +verrainjudeecious thing for me to attempt there! I had not reckoned +with the strength of the grip of those laddies from the underside of +the world. But I had been there, and I should have known. + +Soon came the order to the Kangaroos: "Fall in!" + +At once the habit of stern discipline prevailed. They swung off +again, and the last we saw of them they were just brown men, +disappearing along a brown road, bound for the trenches. + +Swiftly the mole-like dwellers in Albert melted away, until only a +few officers were left beside the members of the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour. And I grew grave and distraught myself. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +One of the officers at Albert was looking at me in a curiously intent +fashion. I noticed that. And soon he came over to me. "Where do you +go next, Harry?" he asked me. His voice was keenly sympathetic, and +his eyes and his manner were very grave. + +"To a place called Ovilliers," I said. + +"So I thought," he said. He put out his hand, and I gripped it, hard. +"I know, Harry. I know exactly where you are going, and I will send a +man with you to act as your guide, who knows the spot you want to reach." + +I couldn't answer him. I was too deeply moved. For Ovilliers is the +spot where my son, Captain John Lauder, lies in his soldier's grave. +That grave had been, of course, from the very first, the final, the +ultimate objective of my journey. And that morning, as we set out +from Tramecourt, Captain Godfrey had told me, with grave sympathy, +that at last we were coming to the spot that had been so constantly +in my thoughts ever since we had sailed from Folkestone. + +And so a private soldier joined our party as guide, and we took to +the road again. The Bapaume road it was--a famous highway, bitterly +contested, savagely fought for. It was one of the strategic roads of +that whole region, and the Hun had made a desperate fight to keep +control of it. But he had failed--as he has failed, and is failing +still, in all his major efforts in France. + +There was no talking in our car, which, this morning, was the second +in the line. I certainly was not disposed to chat, and I suppose that +sympathy for my feelings, and my glumness, stilled the tongues of my +companions. And, at any rate, we had not traveled far when the car +ahead of us stopped, and the soldier from Albert stepped into the +road and waited for me. I got out when our car stopped, and joined +him. + +"I will show you the place now, Mr. Lauder," he said, quietly. So we +left the cars standing in the road, and set out across a field that, +like all the fields in that vicinity, had been ripped and torn by +shell-fire. All about us, as we crossed that tragic field, there were +little brown mounds, each with a white wooden cross upon it. June was +out that day in full bloom. All over the valley, thickly sown with +those white crosses, wild flowers in rare profusion, and thickly +matted, luxuriant grasses, and all the little shrubs that God Himself +looks after were growing bravely in the sunlight, as though they were +trying to hide the work of the Hun. + +It was a mournful journey, but, in some strange way, the peaceful +beauty of the day brought comfort to me. And my own grief was altered +by the vision of the grief that had come to so many others. Those +crosses, stretching away as far as my eye could reach, attested to +the fact that it was not I alone who had suffered and lost and laid a +sacrifice upon the altar of my country. And, in the presence of so +many evidences of grief and desolation a private grief sank into its +true proportions. It was no less keen, the agony of the thought of my +boy was as sharp as ever. But I knew that he was only one, and that I +was only one father. And there were so many like him--and so many +like me, God help us all! Well, He did help me, as I have told, and I +hope and pray that He has helped many another. I believe He has; +indeed, I know it. + +Hogge and Dr. Adam, my two good friends, walked with me on that sad +pilgrimage. I was acutely conscious of their sympathy; it was sweet +and precious to have it. But I do not think we exchanged a word as we +crossed that field. There was no need of words. I knew, without +speech from them, how they felt, and they knew that I knew. So we +came, when we were, perhaps, half a mile from the Bapaume road, to a +slight eminence, a tiny hill that rose from the field. A little +military cemetery crowned it. Here the graves were set in ordered +rows, and there was a fence set around them, to keep them apart, and +to mark that spot as holy ground, until the end of time. Five hundred +British boys lie sleeping in that small acre of silence, and among +them is my own laddie. There the fondest hopes of my life, the hopes +that sustained and cheered me through many years, lie buried. + +No one spoke. But the soldier pointed, silently and eloquently, to +one brown mound in a row of brown mounds that looked alike, each like +the other. Then he drew away. And Hogge and Adam stopped, and stood +together, quiet and grave. And so I went alone to my boy's grave, and +flung myself down upon the warm, friendly earth. My memories of that +moment are not very clear, but I think that for a few minutes I was +utterly spent, that my collapse was complete. + +He was such a good boy! + +I hope you will not think, those of you, my friends, who may read +what I am writing here, that I am exalting my lad above all the other +Britons who died for King and country--or, and aye, above the brave +laddies of other races who died to stop the Hun. But he was such a +good boy! + +As I lay there on that brown mound, under the June sun that day, all +that he had been, and all that he had meant to me and to his mother +came rushing back afresh to my memory, opening anew my wounds of +grief. I thought of him as a baby, and as a wee laddie beginning to +run around and talk to us. I thought of him in every phase and bit of +his life, and of the friends that we had been, he and I! Such chums +we were, always! + +And as I lay there, as I look back upon it now, I can think of but +the one desire that ruled and moved me. I wanted to reach my arms +down into that dark grave, and clasp my boy tightly to my breast, and +kiss him. And I wanted to thank him for what he had done for his +country, and his mother, and for me. + +Again there came to me, as I lay there, the same gracious solace that +God had given me after I heard of his glorious death. And I knew that +this dark grave, so sad and lonely and forlorn, was but the temporary +bivouac of my boy. I knew that it was no more than a trench of refuge +against the storm of battle, in which he was resting until that hour +shall sound when we shall all be reunited beyond the shadowy +borderland of Death. + +How long did I lie there? I do not know. And how I found the strength +at last to drag myself to my feet and away from that spot, the +dearest and the saddest spot on earth to me, God only knows. It was +an hour of very great anguish for me; an hour of an anguish +different, but only less keen, than that which I had known when they +had told me first that I should never see my laddie in the flesh +again. But as I took up the melancholy journey across that field, +with its brown mounds and its white crosses stretching so far away, +they seemed to bring me a sort of tragic consolation. + +I thought of all the broken-hearted ones at home, in Britain. How +many were waiting, as I had waited, until they, too,--they, too,-- +might come to France, and cast themselves down, as I had done, upon +some brown mound, sacred in their thoughts? How many were praying for +the day to come when they might gaze upon a white cross, as I had +done, and from the brown mound out of which it rose gather a few +crumbs of that brown earth, to be deposited in a sacred corner of a +sacred place yonder in Britain? + +While I was in America, on my last tour, a woman wrote to me from a +town in the state of Maine. She was a stranger to me when she sat +down to write that letter, but I count her now, although I have never +seen her, among my very dearest friends. + +"I have a friend in France," she wrote. "He is there with our +American army, and we had a letter from him the other day. I think +you would like to hear what he wrote to us. + +"'I was walking in the gloaming here in France the other evening,' he +wrote. 'You know, I have always been very fond of that old song of +Harry Lauder's, 'Roamin' in the Gloamin'.' + +"'Well, I was roamin' in the gloamin' myself, and as I went I hummed +that very song, under my breath. And I came, in my walk to a little +cemetery, on a tiny hill. There were many mounds there and many small +white crosses. About one of them a Union Jack was wrapped so tightly +that I could not read the inscription upon it. And something led me +to unfurl that weather-worn flag, so that I could read. And what do +you think? It was the grave of Harry Lauder's son, Captain John +Lauder, of the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders, and his little +family crest was upon the cross. + +"'I stood there, looking down at that grave, and I said a little +prayer, all by myself. And then I rewound the Union Jack about the +cross. I went over to some ruins nearby, and there I found a red rose +growing. I do believe it was the last rose of summer. And I took it +up, very carefully, roots and all, and carried it over to Captain +Lauder's grave, and planted it there.'" + +What a world of comfort those words brought me! + +It was about eight o'clock one morning that Captain Lauder was +killed, between Courcellete and Poizieres, on the Ancre, in the +region that is known as the Somme battlefield. It was soon after +breakfast, and John was going about, seeing to his men. His company +was to be relieved that day, and to go back from the trenches to rest +billets, behind the lines. We had sent our laddie a braw lot of +Christmas packages not long before, but he had had them kept at the +rest billet, so that he might have the pleasure of opening them when +he was out of the trenches, and had a little leisure, even though it +made his Christmas presents a wee bit late. + +There had been a little mist upon the ground, as, at that damp and +chilly season of the year, there nearly always was along the river +Ancre. At that time, on that morning, it was just beginning to rise +as the sun grew strong enough to banish it. I think John trusted too +much to the mist, perhaps. He stepped for just a moment into the +open; for just a moment he exposed himself, as he had to do, no +doubt, to do his duty. And a German sniper, watching for just such +chances, caught a glimpse of him. His rifle spoke; its bullet pierced +John's brave and gentle heart. + +Tate, John's body-servant, a man from our own town, was the first +to reach him. Tate was never far from John's side, and he was +heart-broken when he reached him that morning and found that there +was nothing he could do for him. + +Many of the soldiers who served with John and under him have written +to me, and come to me. And all of them have told me the same thing: +that there was not a man in his company who did not feel his death as +a personal loss and bereavement. And his superior officers have told +me the same thing. In so far as such reports could comfort us his +mother and I have taken solace in them. All that we have heard of +John's life in the trenches, and of his death, was such a report as +we or any parents should want to have of their boy. + +John never lost his rare good nature. There were times when things +were going very badly indeed, but at such times he could always be +counted upon to raise a laugh and uplift the spirits of his men. He +knew them all; he knew them well. Nearly all of them came from his +home region near the Clyde, and so they were his neighbors and his +friends. + +I have told you earlier that John was a good musician. He played the +piano rarely well, for an amateur, and he had a grand singing voice. +And one of his fellow-officers told me that, after the fight at +Beaumont-Hamul, one of the phases of the great Battle of the Somme, +John's company found itself, toward evening, near the ruins of an old +chateau. After that fight, by the way, dire news, sad news, came to +our village of the men of the Argyle and Sutherland regiment, and +there were many stricken homes that mourned brave lads who would +never come home again. + +John's men were near to exhaustion that night. They had done terrible +work that day, and their losses had been heavy. Now that there was an +interlude they lay about, tired and bruised and battered. Many had +been killed; many had been so badly wounded that they lay somewhere +behind, or had been picked up already by the Red Cross men who +followed them across the field of the attack. But there were many +more who had been slightly hurt, and whose wounds began to pain them +grievously now. The spirit of the men was dashed. + +John's friend and fellow-officer told me of the scene. + +"There we were, sir," he said. "We were pretty well done in, I can +tell you. And then Lauder came along. I suppose he was just as tired +and worn out as the rest of us--God knows he had as much reason to +be, and more! But he was as cocky as a little bantam. And he was +smiling. He looked about. + +"'Here--this won't do!' he said. 'We've got to get these lads feeling +better!' He was talking more to himself than to anyone else, I think. +And he went exploring around. He got into what was left of that +chateau--and I can tell you it wasn't much! The Germans had been +using it as a point d'appui--a sort of rallying-place, sir--and our +guns had smashed it up pretty thoroughly. I've no doubt the Fritzies +had taken a hack at it, too, when they found they couldn't hold it +any longer--they usually did. + +"But, by a sort of miracle, there was a piano inside that had come +through all the trouble. The building and all the rest of the +furniture had been knocked to bits, but the piano was all right, +although, as I say, I don't know how that had happened. Lauder spied +it, and went clambering over all the debris and wreckage to reach it. +He tried the keys, and found that the action was all right. So he +began picking out a tune, and the rest of us began to sit up a bit. +And pretty soon he lifted his voice in a rollicking tune--one of your +songs it was, sir--and in no time the men were all sitting up to +listen to him. Then they joined in the chorus--and pretty soon you'd +never have known they'd been tired or worn out! If there'd been a +chance they'd have gone at Fritz and done the day's work all over +again!" + +After John was killed his brother officers sent us all his personal +belongings. We have his field-glasses, with the mud of the trenches +dried upon them. We have a little gold locket that he always wore +around his neck. His mother's picture is in it, and that of the +lassie he was to have married had he come home, after New Year's. And +we have his rings, and his boots, and his watch, and all the other +small possessions that were a part of his daily life out there in +France. + +Many soldiers and officers of the Argyle and Sutherlanders pass the +hoose at Dunoon on the Clyde. None ever passes the hoose, though, +without dropping in, for a bite and sup if he has time to stop, and +to tell us stories of our beloved boy. + +No, I would no have you think that I would exalt my boy above all the +others who have lived and died in France in the way of duty. But he +was such a good boy! We have heard so many tales like those I have +told you, to make us proud of him, and glad that he bore his part as +a man should. + +He will stay there, in that small grave on that tiny hill. I shall +not bring his body back to rest in Scotland, even if the time comes +when I might do so. It is a soldier's grave, and an honorable place +for him to be, and I feel it is there that he would wish to lie, with +his men lying close about him, until the time comes for the great +reunion. + +But I am going back to France to visit again and again that grave +where he lies buried. So long as I live myself that hill will be the +shrine to which my many pilgrimages will be directed. The time will +come again when I may take his mother with me, and when we may kneel +together at that spot. + +And meanwhile the wild flowers and the long grasses and all the +little shrubs will keep watch and ward over him there, and over all +the other brave soldiers who lie hard by, who died for God and for +their flag. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +So at last, I turned back toward the road, and very slowly, with +bowed head and shoulders that felt very old, all at once, I walked +back toward the Bapaume highway. I was still silent, and when we +reached the road again, and the waiting cars, I turned, and looked +back, long and sorrowfully, at that tiny hill, and the grave it +sheltered. Godfrey and Hogge and Adam, Johnson and the soldiers of +our party, followed my gaze. But we looked in silence; not one of us +had a word to say. There are moments, as I suppose we have all had to +learn, that are beyond words and speech. + +And then at last we stepped back into the cars, and resumed our +journey on the Bapaume road. We started slowly, and I looked back +until a turn in the road hid that field with its mounds and its +crosses, and that tiny cemetery on the wee hill. So I said good-by to +my boy again, for a little space. + +Our road was by way of Poizieres, and this part of our journey took +us through an area of fearful desolation. It was the country that was +most bitterly fought over in the summer long battle of the Somme in +1916, when the new armies of Britain had their baptism of fire and +sounded the knell of doom for the Hun. It was then he learned that +Britain had had time, after all, to train troops who, man for man, +outmatched his best. + +Here war had passed like a consuming flame, leaving no living thing +in its path. The trees were mown down, clean to the ground. The very +earth was blasted out of all semblance to its normal kindly look. The +scene was like a picture of Hell from Dante's Inferno; there is nothing +upon this earth that may be compared with it. Death and pain and agony +had ruled this whole countryside, once so smiling and fair to see. + +After we had driven for a space we came to something that lay by the +roadside that was a fitting occupant of such a spot. It was like the +skeleton of some giant creature of a prehistoric age, incredibly +savage even in its stark, unlovely death. It might have been the +frame of some vast, metallic tumble bug, that, crawling ominously +along this road of death, had come into the path of a Colossus, and +been stepped upon, and then kicked aside from the road to die. + +"That's what's left of one of our first tanks," said Godfrey. "We +used them first in this battle of the Somme, you remember. And that +must have been one of the very earliest ones. They've been improved +and perfected since that time." + +"How came it like this?" I asked, gazing at it, curiously. + +"A direct hit from a big German shell--a lucky hit, of course. That's +about the only thing that could put even one of the first tanks out +of action that way. Ordinary shells from field pieces, machine-gun +fire, that sort of thing, made no impression on the tanks. But, of +course----" + +I could see for myself. The in'ards of the monster had been pretty +thoroughly knocked out. Well, that tank had done its bit, I have no +doubt. And, since its heyday, the brain of Mars has spawned so many +new ideas that this vast creature would have been obsolete, and ready +for the scrap heap, even had the Hun not put it there before its +time. + +At the Butte de Marlincourt, one of the most bitterly contested bits +of the battlefield, we passed a huge mine crater, and I made an +inspection of it. It was like the crater of an old volcano, a huge +old mountain with a hole in its center. Here were elaborate dugouts, +too, and many graves. + +Soon we came to Bapaume. Bapaume was one of the objectives the +British failed to reach in the action of 1916. But early in 1917 the +Germans, seeing they had come to the end of their tether there, +retreated, and gave the town up. But what a town they left! Bapaume +was nearly as complete a ruin as Arras and Albert. But it had not +been wrecked by shell-fire. The Hun had done the work in cold blood. +The houses had been wrecked by human hands. Pictures still hung +crazily upon the walls. Grates were falling out of fire-places. Beds +stood on end. Tables and chairs were wantonly smashed and there was +black ruin everywhere. + +We drove on then to a small town where the skirling of pipes heralded +our coming. It was the headquarters of General Willoughby and the +Fortieth Division. Highlanders came flocking around to greet us +warmly, and they all begged me to sing to them. But the officer in +command called them to attention. + +"Men," he said, "Harry Lauder comes to us fresh from the saddest +mission of his life. We have no right to expect him to sing for us +to-day, but if it is God's will that he should, nothing could give us +greater pleasure." + +My heart was very heavy within me, and never, even on the night when +I went back to the Shaftesbury Theater, have I felt less like +singing. But I saw the warm sympathy on the faces of the boys. + +"If you'll take me as I am," I told them, "I will try to sing for +you. I will do my best, anyway. When a man is killed, or a battalion +is killed, or a regiment is killed, the war goes on, just the same. +And if it is possible for you to fight with broken ranks, I'll try to +sing for you with a broken heart." + +And so I did, and, although God knows it must have been a feeble +effort, the lads gave me a beautiful reception. I sang my older songs +for them--the songs my own laddie had loved. + +They gave us tea after I had sung for them, with chocolate eclairs as +a rare treat! We were surprised to get such fare upon the +battlefield, but it was a welcome surprise. + +We turned back from Bapaume, traveling along another road on the +return journey. And on the way we met about two hundred German +prisoners--the first we had seen in any numbers. They were working on +the road, under guard of British soldiers. They looked sleek and +well-fed, and they were not working very hard, certainly. Yet I +thought there was something about their expression like that of +neglected animals. I got out of the car and spoke to an intelligent- +looking little chap, perhaps about twenty-five years old--a sergeant. +He looked rather suspicious when I spoke to him, but he saluted +smartly, and stood at attention while we talked, and he gave me ready +and civil answers. + +"You speak English?" I asked. "Fluently?" + +"Yes, sir!" + +"How do you like being a prisoner?" + +"I don't like it. It's very degrading." + +"Your companions look pretty happy. Any complaints?" + +"No, sir! None!" + +"What are the Germans fighting for? What do you hope to gain?" + +"The freedom of the seas!" + +"But you had that before the war broke out!" + +"We haven't got it now." + +I laughed at that. + +"Certainly not," I said. "Give us credit for doing something! But how +are you going to get it again?" + +"Our submarines will get it for us." + +"Still," I said, "you must be fighting for something else, too?" + +"No," he said, doggedly. "Just for the freedom of the seas." + +I couldn't resist telling him a bit of news that the censor was +keeping very carefully from his fellow-Germans at home. + +"We sank seven of your submarines last week," I said. + +He probably didn't believe that. But his face paled a bit, and his +lips puckered, and he scowled. Then, as I turned away, he whipped his +hand to his forehead in a stiff salute, but I felt that it was not +the most gracious salute I had ever seen! Still, I didn't blame him +much! + +Captain Godfrey meant to show us another village that day. + +"Rather an interesting spot," he said. "They differ, these French +villages. They're not all alike, by any means." + +Then, before long, he began to look puzzled. And finally he called +a halt. + +"It ought to be right here," he said. "It was, not so long ago." + +But there was no village! The Hun had passed that way. And the +village for which Godfrey was seeking had been utterly wiped off the +face of the earth! Not a trace of it remained. Where men and women +and little children had lived and worked and played in quiet +happiness the abominable desolation that is the work of the Hun +had come. There was nothing to show that they or their village +had ever been. + +The Hun knows no mercy! + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +There had been, originally, a perfectly definite route for the +Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour--as definite a route as is mapped +out for me when I am touring the United States. Our route had called +for a fairly steady progress from Vimy Ridge to Peronne--like +Bapaume, one of the great unreached objectives of the Somme +offensive, and, again like Bapaume, ruined and abandoned by the +Germans in the retreat of the spring of 1917. But we made many side +trips and gave many and many an unplanned, extemporaneous roadside +concert, as I have told. + +For all of us it had been a labor of love. I will always believe that +I sang a little better on that tour than I have ever sung before or +ever shall again, and I am sure, too, that Hogge and Dr. Adam spoke +more eloquently to their soldier hearers than they ever did in +parliament or church. My wee piano, Tinkle Tom, held out staunchly. +He never wavered in tune, though he got some sad jouncings as he +clung to the grid of a swift-moving car. As for Johnson, my +Yorkshireman, he was as good an accompanist before the tour ended as +I could ever want, and he took the keenest interest and delight in +his work, from start to finish. + +Captain Godfrey, our manager, must have been proud indeed of the +"business" his troupe did. The weather was splendid; the "houses" +everywhere were so big that if there had been Standing Room Only +signs they would have been called into use every day. And his company +got a wonderful reception wherever it showed! He had everything a +manager could have to make his heart rejoice. And he did not, like +many managers, have to be continually trying to patch up quarrels in +the company! He had no petty professional jealousies with which to +contend; such things were unknown in our troupe! + +All the time while I was singing in France I was elaborating an idea +that had for some time possessed me, and that was coming now to +dominate me utterly. I was thinking of the maimed soldiers, the boys +who had not died, but had given a leg, or an arm, or their sight to +the cause, and who were doomed to go through the rest of their lives +broken and shattered and incomplete. They were never out of my +thoughts. I had seen them before I ever came to France, as I traveled +the length and breadth of the United Kingdom, singing for the men in +the camps and the hospitals, and doing what I could to help in the +recruiting. And I used to lie awake of nights, wondering what would +become of those poor broken laddies when the war was over and we were +all setting to work again to rebuild our lives. + +And especially I thought of the brave laddies of my ain Scotland. +They must have thought often of their future. They must have wondered +what was to become of them, when they had to take up the struggle +with the world anew--no longer on even terms with their mates, but +handicapped by grievous injuries that had come to them in the noblest +of ways. I remembered crippled soldiers, victims of other wars, whom +I had seen selling papers and matches on street corners, objects of +charity, almost, to a generation that had forgotten the service to +the country that had put them in the way of having to make their +living so. And I had made a great resolution that, if I could do +aught to prevent it, no man of Scotland who had served in this war +should ever have to seek a livelihood in such a manner. + +So I conceived the idea of raising a great fund to be used for giving +the maimed Scots soldiers a fresh start in life. They would be +pensioned by the government. I knew that. But I knew, too, that a +pension is rarely more than enough to keep body and soul together. +What these crippled men would need, I felt, was enough money to set +them up in some little business of their own, that they could see to +despite their wounds, or to enable them to make a new start in some +old business or trade, if they could do so. + +A man might need a hundred pounds, I thought, or two hundred pounds, +to get him started properly again. And I wanted to be able to hand a +man what money he might require. I did not want to lend it to him, +taking his note or his promise to pay. Nor did I want to give it to +him as charity. I wanted to hand it to him as a freewill offering, as +a partial payment of the debt Scotland owed him for what he had done +for her. + +And I thought, too, of men stricken by shell-shock, or paralyzed in +the war--there are pitifully many of both sorts! I did not want them +to stay in bare and cold and lonely institutions. I wanted to take +them out of such places, and back to their homes; home to the village +and the glen. I wanted to get them a wheel-chair, with an old, +neighborly man or an old neighborly woman, maybe, to take them for an +airing in the forenoon, and the afternoon, that they might breathe +the good Scots air, and see the wild flowers growing, and hear the +song of the birds. + +That was the plan that had for a long time been taking form in my mind. +I had talked it over with some of my friends, and the newspapers had +heard of it, somehow, and printed a few paragraphs about it. It was +still very much in embryo when I went to France, but, to my surprise, +the Scots soldiers nearly always spoke of it when I was talking with +them. They had seen the paragraphs in the papers, and I soon realized +that it loomed up as a great thing for them. + +"Aye, it's a grand thing you're thinking of, Harry," they said, again +and again. "Now we know we'll no be beggars in the street, now that +we've got a champion like you, Harry." + +I heard such words as that first from a Highlander at Arras, and from +that moment I have thought of little else. Many of the laddies told +me that the thought of being killed did not bother them, but that +they did worry a bit about their future in case they went home maimed +and helpless. + +"We're here to stay until there's no more work to do, if it takes +twenty years, Harry," they said. "But it'll be a big relief to know +we will be cared for if we must go back crippled." + +I set the sum I would have to raise to accomplish the work I had in +mind at a million pounds sterling--five million dollars. It may seem +a great sum to some, but to me, knowing the purpose for which it is +to be used, it seems small enough. And my friends agree with me. When +I returned from France I talked to some Scots friends, and a meeting +was called, in Glasgow, of the St. Andrews Society. I addressed it, +and it declared itself in cordial sympathy with the idea. Then I went +to Edinburgh, and down to London, and back north to Manchester. +Everywhere my plan was greeted with the greatest enthusiasm, and the +real organization of the fund was begun on September 17 and 18, 1917. + +This fund of mine is known officially as "The Harry Lauder Million +Pound Fund for Maimed Men, Scottish Soldiers and Sailors." It does +not in any way conflict with nor overlap, any other work already +being done. I made sure of that, because I talked to the Pension +Minister, and his colleagues, in London, before I went ahead with my +plans, and they fully and warmly approved everything that I planned +to do. + +The Earl of Rosebery, former Prime Minister of Britain, is Honorary +President of the Fund, and Lord Balfour of Burleigh is its treasurer. +And as I write we have raised an amount well into six figures in +pounds sterling. One of the things that made me most willing to +undertake my last tour of America was my feeling that I could secure +the support and cooperation of the Scottish people in America for my +fund better by personal appeals than in any other way. At the end of +every performance I gave during the tour, I told my audience what I +was doing and the object of the fund, and, although I addressed +myself chiefly to the Scots, there has been a most generous and +touching response from Americans as well. + +We distributed little plaid-bordered envelopes, in which folk were +invited to send contributions to the bank in New York that was the +American depository. And after each performance Mrs. Lauder stood in +the lobby and sold little envelopes full of stamps, "sticky backs," +as she called them, like the Red Cross seals that have been sold so +long in America at Christmas time. She sold them for a quarter, or +for whatever they would bring, and all the money went to the fund. + +I had a novel experience sometimes. Often I would no sooner have +explained what I was doing than I would feel myself the target of a +sort of bombardment. At first I thought Germans were shooting at me, +but I soon learned that it was money that was being thrown! And every +day my dressing-table would be piled high with checks and money +orders and paper money sent direct to me instead of to the bank. But +I had to ask the guid folk to cease firing--the money was too apt to +be lost! + +Folk of all races gave liberally. I was deeply touched at Hot +Springs, Arkansas, where the stage hands gave me the money they had +received for their work during my engagement. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +I have stopped for a wee digression about my fund. I saw many +interesting things in France, and dreadful things. And it was +impressed upon me more and more that the Hun knows no mercy. The +wicked, wanton things he did in France, and that I saw! + +There was Mont St. Quentin, one of the very strongest of the +positions out of which the British turned him. There was a chateau +there, a bonnie place. And hard by was a wee cemetery. The Hun had +smashed its pretty monuments, and he had reached into that sacred +soil with his filthy claws, and dragged out the dead from their +resting-place, and scattered their helpless bones about. + +He ruined Peronne in wanton fury because it was passing from his +grip. He wrecked its old cathedral, once one of the loveliest sights +in France. He took away the old fleurs-de-lis from the great gates of +Peronne. He stole and carried away the statues that used to stand in +the old square. He left the great statue of St. Peter, still standing +in the churchyard, but its thumb was broken off. I found it, as I +rummaged about idly in the debris at the statue's foot. + +It was no casual looting that the Huns did. They did their work +methodically, systematically. It was a sight to make the angels weep. + +As I left the ruined cathedral I met a couple of French poilus, and +tried to talk with them. But they spoke "very leetle" English, and I +fired all my French words at them in one sentence. + +"Oui, oui, madame," I said. "Encore pomme du terre. Fini!" + +They laughed, but we did no get far with our talk! Not in French. + +"You can't love the Hun much, after this," I said. + +"Ze Hun? Ze bloody Boche?" cried one of them. "I keel heem all my +life!" + +I was glad to quit Peronne. The rape of that lovely church saddened +me more than almost any sight I saw in France. I did not care to look +at it. So I was glad when we motored on to the headquarters of the +Fourth Army, where I had the honor of meeting one of Britain's +greatest soldiers, General Sir Henry Rawlinson, who greeted us most +cordially, and invited us to dinner. + +After dinner we drove on toward Amiens. We were swinging back now, +toward Boulogne, and were scheduled to sleep that night at Amiens-- +which the Germans held for a few days, during their first rush toward +Paris, before the Marne, but did not have time to destroy. + +Adam knew Amiens, and was made welcome, with the rest of us, at an +excellent hotel. Von Kluck had made its headquarters when he swung +that way from Brussels, and it was there he planned the dinner he +meant to eat in Paris with the Kaiser. Von Kluck demanded an +indemnity of a million dollars from Amiens to spare its famous old +cathedral. + +It was late when we arrived, but before I slept I called for the +boots and ordered a bottle of ginger ale. I tried to get him to tell +me about old von Kluck and his stay but he couldn't talk English, and +was busy, anyway, trying to open the bottle without cutting the wire. +Adam and Hogge are fond, to this day, of telling how I shouted at +him, finally: + +"Well, how do you expect to open that bottle when you can't even talk +the English language?" + +Next day was Sunday, and we went to church in the cathedral, which +von Kluck didn't destroy, after all. There were signs of war; the +windows and the fine carved doors were banked with sand bags as a +measure of protection from bombing airplanes. + +I gave my last roadside concert on the road from Amiens to Boulogne. +It was at a little place called Ouef, and we had some trouble in +finding it and more in pronouncing its name. Some of us called it +Off, some Owf! I knew I had heard the name somewhere, and I was +racking my brains to think as Johnson set up our wee piano and I +began to sing. Just as I finished my first song a rooster set up a +violent crowing, in competition with me, and I remembered! + +"I know where I am!" I cried. "I'm at Egg!" + +And that is what Oeuf means, in English! + +The soldiers were vastly amused. They were Gordon Highlanders, and I +found a lot of chaps among them frae far awa' Aberdeen. Not many of +them are alive to-day! But that day they were a gay lot and a bonnie +lot. There was a big Highlander who said to me, very gravely: + +"Harry, the only good thing I ever saw in a German was a British +bayonet! If you ever hear anyone at hame talking peace--cut off their +heads! Or send them out to us, and we'll show them. There's a job to +do here, and we'll do it. + +"Look!" he said, sweeping his arm as if to include all France. "Look +at yon ruins! How would you like old England or auld Scotland to be +looking like that? We're not only going to break and scatter the Hun +rule, Harry. If we do no more than that, it will surely be reassembled +again. We're going to destroy it." + +On the way from Oeuf to Boulogne we visited a small, out of the way +hospital, and I sang for the lads there. And I was going around, +afterward, talking to the boys on their cots, and came to a young +chap whose head and face were swathed in bandages. + +"How came you to be hurt, lad?" I asked. + +"Well, sir," he said, "we were attacking one morning. I went over the +parapet with the rest, and got to the German trench all right. I +wasn't hurt. And I went down, thirty feet deep, into one of their +dugouts. You wouldn't think men could live so--but, of course, +they're not men--they're animals! There was a lighted candle on a +shelf, and beside it a fountain pen. It was just an ordinary-looking +pen, and it was fair loot--I thought some chap had meant to write a +letter, and forgotten his pen when our attack came. So I slipped it +in my pocket. + +"Two days later I was going to write a few lines to my mother and +tell her I was all right, so I thought I'd try my new pen. And when I +unscrewed the cap it exploded--and, well, you see me, Harry! It blew +half of my face away!" + +The Hun knows no mercy. + +I was glad to see Boulogne again--the white buildings on the white +hills, and the harbor beyond. Here the itinerary of the Reverend +Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour, came to its formal end. But, since there +were many new arrivals in the hospitals--the population of a base +shifts quickly--we were asked to give a couple more concerts in the +hospitals where we had first appeared on French soil. + +A good many thousand Canadians had just come in, so I sang at Base +Hospital No. 1, and then gave another and farewell concert at the +great convalescent camp on the hill. And then we said good-by to +Captain Godfrey, and the chauffeurs, and to Johnson, my accompanist, +ready to go back to his regiment now. I told them all I hoped that +when I came to France again to sing we could reassemble all the +original cast, and I pray that we may! + +On Monday we took boat again for Folkestone. The boat was crowded +with men going home on leave, and I wandered among them. I heard many +a tale of heroism and courage, of splendid sacrifice and suffering +nobly borne. Destroyers, as before, circled about us, and there was +no hint of trouble from a Hun submarine. + +On our boat was Lord Dalmeny, a King's Messenger, carrying dispatches +from the front. He asked me how I had liked the "show." It is so that +nearly all British soldiers refer to the war. + +They had earned their rest, those laddies who were going home to +Britain. But some of them were half sorry to be going! I talked to +one of them. + +"I don't know, Harry," he said. "I was looking forward to this leave +for a long time. I've been oot twa years. My heart jumped with joy at +first at the thought of seeing my mother and the auld hame. But now +that I'm started, and in a fair way to get there, I'm no so happy. +You see--every young fellow frae my toon is awa'. I'm the only one +going back. Many are dead. It won't be the same. I've a mind just to +stay on London till my leave is up, and then go back. If I went home +my mother would but burst out greetin', an' I think I could no stand +that." + +But, as for me, I was glad, though I was sorry, too, to be going +home. I wanted to go back again. But I wanted to hurry to my wife, +and tell her what I had seen at our boy's grave. And so I did, so +soon as I landed on British ground once more. + +I felt that I was bearing a message to her. A message from our boy. I +felt--and I still feel--that I could tell her that all was well with +him, and with all the other soldiers of Britain, who sleep, like him, +in the land of the bleeding lily. They died for humanity, and God +will not forget. + +And I think there is something for me to say to all those who are to +know a grief such as I knew. Every mother and father who loves a son +in this war must have a strong, unbreakable faith in the future life, +in the world beyond, where you will see your son again. Do not give +way to grief. Instead, keep your gaze and your faith firmly fixed on +the world beyond, and regard your boy's absence as though he were but +on a journey. By keeping your faith you will help to win this war. +For if you lose it, the war and your personal self are lost. + +My whole perspective was changed by my visit to the front. Never +again shall I know those moments of black despair that used to come +to me. In my thoughts I shall never be far away from the little +cemetery hard by the Bapaume road. And life would not be worth the +living for me did I not believe that each day brings me nearer to +seeing him again. + +I found a belief among the soldiers in France that was almost +universal. I found it among all classes of men at the front; among +men who had, before the war, been regularly religious, along +well-ordered lines, and among men who had lived just according to +their own lights. Before the war, before the Hun went mad, the young +men of Britain thought little of death or what might come after death. +They were gay and careless, living for to-day. Then war came, and with +it death, astride of every minute, every hour. And the young men began +to think of spiritual things and of God. + +Their faces, their deportments, may not have shown the change. But it +was in their hearts. They would not show it. Not they! But I have +talked with hundreds of men along the front. And it is my conviction +that they believe, one and all, that if they fall in battle they only +pass on to another. And what a comforting belief that is! + +"It is that belief that makes us indifferent to danger and to death," +a soldier said to me. "We fight in a righteous cause and a holy war. +God is not going to let everything end for us just because the mortal +life quits the shell we call the body. You may be sure of that." + +And I am sure of it, indeed! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Minstrel In France, by Harry Lauder + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MINSTREL IN FRANCE *** + +***** This file should be named 11211.txt or 11211.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/2/1/11211/ + +Produced by Geoff Palmer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa882fa --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11211 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11211) diff --git a/images/Lauder01.jpg b/images/Lauder01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d2d36cc --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder01.jpg diff --git a/images/Lauder02.jpg b/images/Lauder02.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f201aef --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder02.jpg diff --git a/images/Lauder03.jpg b/images/Lauder03.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4e4d36 --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder03.jpg diff --git a/images/Lauder04.jpg b/images/Lauder04.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..816ddd0 --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder04.jpg diff --git a/images/Lauder05.jpg b/images/Lauder05.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d13b7d --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder05.jpg diff --git a/images/Lauder06.jpg b/images/Lauder06.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..708d491 --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder06.jpg diff --git a/images/Lauder07.jpg b/images/Lauder07.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e42612 --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder07.jpg diff --git a/images/Lauder08.jpg b/images/Lauder08.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a023d01 --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder08.jpg diff --git a/images/Lauder09.jpg b/images/Lauder09.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3f647a --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder09.jpg diff --git a/images/Lauder10.jpg b/images/Lauder10.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bfa0a0e --- /dev/null +++ b/images/Lauder10.jpg diff --git a/old/11211.txt b/old/11211.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8051b1f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11211.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8718 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Minstrel In France, by Harry Lauder + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Minstrel In France + +Author: Harry Lauder + +Release Date: February 21, 2004 [EBook #11211] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MINSTREL IN FRANCE *** + + + + +Produced by Geoff Palmer + + + + +A MINSTREL IN FRANCE + +BY + +HARRY LAUDER + + +[ILLUSTRATION: _frontispiece_ Harry Lauder and his son, Captain John +Lauder. (see Lauder01.jpg)] + + +TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED SON +CAPTAIN JOHN LAUDER + +First 8th, Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders +Killed in France, December 28, 1916 + +Oh, there's sometimes I am lonely +And I'm weary a' the day +To see the face and clasp the hand +Of him who is away. +The only one God gave me, +My one and only joy, +My life and love were centered on +My one and only boy. + +I saw him in his infant days +Grow up from year to year, +That he would some day be a man +I never had a fear. +His mother watched his every step, +'Twas our united joy +To think that he might be one day +My one and only boy. + +When war broke out he buckled on +His sword, and said, "Good-bye. +For I must do my duty, Dad; +Tell Mother not to cry, +Tell her that I'll come back again." +What happiness and joy! +But no, he died for Liberty, +My one and only boy. + +The days are long, the nights are drear, +The anguish breaks my heart, +But oh! I'm proud my one and only +Laddie played his part. +For God knows best, His will be done, +His grace does me employ. +I do believe I'll meet again +My one and only boy. + +by Harry Lauder + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +Harry Lauder and His Son, Captain John Lauder + +"I did not stop at sending out my recruiting band. I went out myself" + +"'Carry On!' were the last words of my boy, Captain John Lauder, to +his men, but he would mean them for me, too" + +"Bang! Went Sixpence" + +"Harry Lauder preserves the bonnet of his son, brought to him from +where the lad fell, 'The memory of his boy, it is almost his +religion.'--A tatter of plaid of the Black Watch. on a wire of a +German entanglement barely suggests the hell the Scotch troops have +gone through" + +"Captain John Lauder and Comrades Before the Trenches in France" + +"Make us laugh again, Harry!' Though I remember my son and want to +join the ranks, I have obeyed" + +"Harry Lauder, 'Laird of Dunoon.'" +--Medal struck off by Germany when _Lusitania_ was sunk" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +Yon days! Yon palmy, peaceful days! I go back to them, and they are +as a dream. I go back to them again and again, and live them over. +Yon days of another age, the age of peace, when no man dared even to +dream of such times as have come upon us. + +It was in November of 1913, and I was setting forth upon a great +journey, that was to take me to the other side of the world before I +came back again to my wee hoose amang the heather at Dunoon. My wife +was going with me, and my brother-in-law, Tom Valiance, for they go +everywhere with me. But my son John was coming with us only to +Glasgow, and then, when we set out for Liverpool and the steamer that +was to bring us to America he was to go back to Cambridge. He was +near done there, the bonnie laddie. He had taken his degree as +Bachelor of Arts, and was to set out soon upon a trip around the +world. + +Was that no a fine plan I had made for my son? That great voyage he +was to have, to see the world and all its peoples! It was proud I was +that I could give it to him. He was--but it may be I'll tell you more +of John later in this book! + +My pen runs awa' with me, and my tongue, too, when I think of my boy +John. + +We came to the pier at Dunoon, and there she lay, the little ferry +steamer, the black smoke curling from her stack straight up to God. +Ah, the braw day it was! There was a frosty sheen upon the heather, +and the Clyde was calm as glass. The tops of the hills were coated +with snow, and they stood out against the horizon like great big +sugar loaves. + +We were a' happy that day! There was a crowd to see us off. They had +come to bid me farewell and godspeed, all my friends and my +relations, and I went among them, shaking them by the hand and +thinking of the long whiles before I'd be seeing them again. And then +all my goodbys were said, and we went aboard, and my voyage had begun. + +I looked back at the hills and the heather, and I thought of all I +was to do and see before I saw those hills again. I was going half +way round the world and back again. I was going to wonderful places +to see wonderful things and curious faces. But oftenest the thought +came to me, as I looked at my son, that him I would see again before +I saw the heather and the hills and all the friends and the relations +I was leaving behind me. For on his trip around the world he was to +meet us in Australia! It was easier to leave him, easier to set out, +knowing that, thinking of that! + +Wonderful places I went to, surely. And wonderful things I saw and +heard. But the most wonderful thing of all that I was to see or hear +upon that voyage I did not dream of nor foresee. How was a mortal man +to foresee? How was he to dream of it? + +Could I guess that the very next time I set out from Dunoon pier the +peaceful Clyde would be dotted with patrol boats, dashing hither and +thither! Could I guess that everywhere there would be boys in khaki, +and women weeping, and that my boy, John----! Ah, but I'll not tell +you of that now. + +Peaceful the Clyde had been, and peaceful was the Mersey when we +sailed from Liverpool for New York. I look back on yon voyage--the +last I took that way in days of peace. Next time! Destroyers to guard +us from the Hun and his submarines, and to lay us a safe course +through the mines. And sailor boys, about their guns, watching, +sweeping the sea every minute for the flash of a sneaking pirate's +periscope showing for a second above a wave! + +But then! It was a quiet trip, with none but the ups and doons of +every Atlantic crossing--more ups than doons, I'm telling you! + +I was glad to be in America again, glad to see once more the friends +I'd made. They turned out to meet me and to greet me in New York, and +as I travelled across the continent to San Francisco it was the same. +Everywhere I had friends; everywhere they came crowding to shake me +by the hand with a "How are you the day, Harry?" + +It was a long trip, but it was a happy one. How long ago it seems +now, as I write, in this new day of war! How far away are all the +common, kindly things that then I did not notice, and that now I +would give the world and a' to have back again! + +Then, everywhere I went, they pressed their dainties upon me whenever +I sat down for a sup and a bite. The board groaned with plenty. I was +in a rich country, a country where there was enough for all, and to +spare. And now, as I am writing I am travelling again across America. +And there is not enough. When I sit down at table there is a card of +Herbert Hoover's, bidding me be careful how I eat and what I choose. +Ay, but he has no need to warn me! Well I know the truth, and how +America is helping to feed her allies over there, and so must be +sparing herself. + +To think of it! In yon far day the world was all at peace. And now +that great America, that gave so little thought to armies and to +cannon, is fighting with my ain British against the Hun! + +It was in March of 1914 that we sailed from San Francisco, on the +tenth of the month. It was a glorious day as we stood on the deck of +the old Pacific liner _Sonoma_. I was eager and glad to be off. To be +sure, America had been kinder to me than ever, and I was loath, in a +way, to be leaving her and all the friends of mine she held--old +friends of years, and new ones made on that trip. But I was coming +back. And then there was one great reason for my eagerness that few +folk knew--that my son John was coming to meet me in Australia. I was +missing him sore already. + +They came aboard the old tubby liner to see us off, friends by the +score. They kept me busy shaking hands. + +"Good-by, Harry," they said. And "Good luck, Harry," they cried. And +just before the bugles sounded all ashore I heard a few of them +crooning an old Scots song: + +"Will ye no come back again?" + +"Aye, I'll come back again!" I told them when I heard them. + +"Good, Harry, good!" they cried back to me. "It's a promise! We'll be +waiting for you--waiting to welcome you!" + +And so we sailed from San Francisco and from America, out through the +Golden Gate, toward the sunset. Here was beauty for me, who loved it +new beauty, such as I had not seen before. They were quiet days, +happy days, peaceful days. I was tired after my long tour, and the +days at sea rested me, with good talk when I craved it, and time to +sleep, and no need to give thought to trains, or to think, when I +went to bed, that in the night they'd rouse me from my sleep by +switching my car and giving me a bump. + +We came first to Hawaii, and I fell in love with the harbor of +Honolulu as we sailed in. Here, at last, I began to see the strange +sights and hear the strange sounds I had been looking forward to ever +since I left my wee hoose at Dunoon. Here was something that was +different from anything that I had ever seen before. + +We did not stay so long. On the way home I was to stay over and give +a performance in Honolulu, but not now. Our time was given up to +sight seeing, and to meeting some of the folk of the islands. They +ken hospitality! We made many new friends there, short as the time +was. And, man! The lassies! You want to cuddle the first lassie +you meet when you step ashore at Honolulu. But you don't--if the +wife is there! + +It was only because I knew that we were to stop longer on the way +back that I was willing to leave Honolulu at all. So we sailed on, +toward Australia. And now I knew that my boy was about setting out on +his great voyage around the world. Day by day I would get out the map, +and try to prick the spot where he'd be. + +And I'd think: "Aye! When I'm here John'll be there! Will he be +nearer to me than now?" + +Thinking of the braw laddie, setting out, so proud and happy, made me +think of my ain young days. My father couldna' give me such a chance +as my boy was to have. I'd worked in the mines before I was John's +age. There'd been no Cambridge for me--no trip around the world as a +part of my education. And I thanked God that he was letting me do so +much for my boy. + +Aye, and he deserved it, did John! He'd done well at Cambridge; he +had taken honors there. And soon he was to go up to London to read +for the Bar. He was to be a barrister, in wig and gown, my son, John! + +It was of him, and of the meeting we were all to have in Australia, +that I thought, more than anything else, in the long, long days upon +the sea. We sailed on from Honolulu until we came to Paga-Paga. So it +is spelled, but all the natives call it Panga-Panga. + +Here I saw more and yet more of the strange and wonderful things I +had thought upon so long back, in Dunoon. Here I saw mankind, for the +first time, in a natural state. I saw men who wore only the figleaf +of old Father Adam, and a people who lived from day to day, and whom +the kindly earth sustained. + +They lived entirely from vegetables and from clear crystal streams +and upon marvelous fish from the sea. Ah, how I longed to stay in +Paga-Paga and be a natural man. But I must go on. Work called me back +to civilization and sorrow-fully I heeded its call and waved good-by +to the natural folk of Paga-Paga! + +It was before I came to Paga-Paga that I wrote a little verse +inspired by Honolulu. Perhaps, if I had gone first to Paga-Paga-- +don't forget to put in the n and call it Panga-Panga when you say it +to yourself!--I might have written it of that happy island of the +natural folk. But I did not, so here is the verse: + + I love you, Honolulu, Honolulu I love you! + You are the Queen of the Sea! + Your valleys and mountains + Your palais and fountains + Forever and ever will be dear to me! + +I wedded a simple melody to those simple, heart-felt lines, and since +then I have sung the song in pretty nearly every part of the world-- +and in Honolulu itself. + +Our journey was drawing to its end. We were coming to a strange land +indeed. And yet I knew there were Scots folk there--where in the +world are there not? I thought they would be glad to see me, but how +could I be sure? It was a far, far cry from Dunoon and the Clyde and +the frost upon the heather on the day I had set out. + +We were to land at Sydney. I was a wee bit impatient after we had +made our landfall, while the old _Sonoma_ poked her way along. But +she would not be hurried by my impatience. And at last we came to the +Sydney Heads--the famous Harbor Heads. If you have never seen it I do +not know how better to tell you of it than to say that it makes me +think of the entrance to a great cave that has no roof. In we went-- +and were within that great, nearly landlocked harbor. + +And what goings on there were! The harbor was full of craft, both +great and sma'. And each had all her bunting flying. Oh, they were +braw in the sunlight, with the gay colors and the bits of flags, all +fluttering and waving in the breeze! + +And what a din there was, with the shrieking of the whistle and the +foghorns and the sirens and the clamor of bells. It took my breath +away, and I wondered what was afoot. And on the shore I could see +that thousands of people waited, all crowded together by the water +side. There were flags flying, too, from all the buildings. + +"It must be that the King is coming in on a visit--and I never to +have heard of it!" I thought. + +And then they made me understand that it was all for me! + +If there were tears in my eyes when they made me believe that, will +you blame me? There was that great harbor, all alive with the welcome +they made for me. And on the shore, they told me, a hundred thousand +were waiting to greet me and bid me: + +"Welcome, Harry!" + +The tramways had stopped running until they had done with their +welcome to inc. And all over the city, as we drove to our hotel, they +roared their welcome, and there were flags along the way. + +That was the proudest day I ha d ever known. But one thing made me +wistful and wishful. I wanted my boy to be there with us. I wished he +had seen how they had greeted his Dad. Nothing pleased him more than +an honor that came to me. And here was an honor indeed--a reception +the like of which I had never seen. + + + +CHAPTER II + +It was on the twenty-ninth day of March, in that year of 1914 that +dawned in peace and happiness and set in blood and death and bitter +sorrow, that we landed in Sydney. Soon I went to work. Everywhere my +audiences showed me that that great and wonderful reception that had +been given to me on the day we landed had been only an earnest of +what was to come. They greeted me everywhere with cheers and tears, +and everywhere we made new friends, and sometimes found old ones of +whom we had not heard for years. + +And I was thinking all the time, now, of my boy. He was on his way. +He was on the Pacific. He was coming to me, across the ocean, and I +could smile as I thought of how this thing and that would strike +him, and of the smile that would light up his face now and the look +of joy that would come into his eyes at the sudden sighting of some +beautiful spot. Oh, aye--those were happy days When each one brought +my boy nearer to me. + +One day, I mind, the newspapers were full of the tale of a crime ill +an odd spot in Europe that none of us had ever heard of before. You +mind the place? Serajevo! Aye--we all mind it now! But then we read, +and wondered how that outlandish name might be pronounced. A +foreigner was murdered--what if he was a prince, the Archduke of +Austria? Need we lash ourselves about him? + +And so we read, and were sorry, a little, for the puir lady who sat +beside the Archduke and was killed with him. And then we forgot it. +All Australia did. There was no more in the newspapers. And my son +John was coming--coming. Each day he was so many hundred miles nearer +to me. And at last he came. We were in Melbourne then, it was near to +the end of July. + +We had much to talk about--son, and his mother and I. It was long +months since we had seen him, and we had seen and done so much. The +time flew by. Maybe we did not read the papers so carefully as we +might have done. They tell me, they have told me, since then, that in +Europe and even in America, there was some warning after Austria +moved on Serbia. But I believe that down there in Australia they did +not dream of danger; that they were far from understanding the +meaning of the news the papers did print. They were so far away! + +And then, you ken, it came upon us like a clap of thunder. One night +it began. There was war in Europe--real war. Germany had attacked +France and Russia. She was moving troops through Belgium. And every +Briton knew what that must mean. Would Britain be drawn in? There was +the question that was on every man's tongue. + +"What do you think, son?" I asked John. + +"I think we'll go in," he said. "And if we do, you know, Dad--they'll +send for me to come home at once. I'm on leave from the summer +training camp now to make this trip." + +My boy, two years before, had joined the Territorial army. He was a +second lieutenant in a Territorial battalion of the Argyle and +Sutherland Highlanders. It was much as if he had been an officer in a +National Guard regiment in the United States. The territorial army +was not bound to serve abroad--but who could doubt that it would, and +gladly. As it did--to a man, to a man. + +But it was a shock to me when John said that. I had not thought that +war, even if it came, could come home to us so close--and so soon. + +Yet so it was. The next day was the fourth of August--my birthday. +And it was that day that Britain declared war upon Germany. We sat at +lunch in the hotel at Melbourne when the newsboys began to cry the +extras. And we were still at lunch when the hall porter came in from +outside. + +"Leftenant Lauder!" he called, over and over. John beckoned to him, +and he handed my laddie a cablegram. + +Just two words there were, that had come singing along the wires half +way around the world. + +"Mobilize. Return." + +John's eyes were bright. They were shining. He was looking at us, but +he was not seeing us. Those eyes of his were seeing distant things. +My heart way sore within me, but I was proud and happy that it was +such a son I had to give my country. + +"What do you think, Dad?" he asked me, when I had read the order. + +I think I was gruff because I dared not let him see how I felt. His +mother was very pale. + +"This is no time for thinking, son," I said. "It is the time for +action. You know your duty." + +He rose from the table, quickly. + +"I'm off!" he said. + +"Where?" I asked him. + +"To the ticket office to see about changing my berth. There's a +steamer this week--maybe I can still find room aboard her." + +He was not long gone. He and his chum went down together and come +back smiling triumphantly. + +"It's all right, Dad," he told me. "I go to Adelaide by train and get +the steamer there. I'll have time to see you and mother off--your +steamer goes two hours before my train." + +We were going to New Zealand. And my boy was was going home to fight +for his country. They would call me too old, I knew--I was forty-four +the day Britain declared war. + +What a turmoil there was about us! So fast were things moving that +there seemed no time for thought, John's mother and I could not +realize the full meaning of all that was happening. But we knew that +John was snatched away from us just after he had come, and it was +hard--it was cruelly hard. + +But such thoughts were drowned in the great surging excitement that +was all about us. In Melbourne, and I believe it must have been much +the same elsewhere in Australia, folks didn't know what they were to +do, how they were to take this war that had come so suddenly upon +them. And rumors and questions flew in all directions. + +Suppose the Germans came to Australia? Was there a chance of that? +They had islands, naval bases, not so far away. They were Australia's +neighbors. What of the German navy? Was it out? Were there scattered +ships, here and there, that might swoop down upon Australia's shores +and bring death and destruction with them? + +But even before we sailed, next day, I could see that order was +coming out of that chaos. Everywhere recruiting offices were opening, +and men were flocking to them. No one dreamed, really, of a long +war--though John laughed, sadly, when someone said it would be over in +four months. But these Australians took no chances; they would offer +themselves first, and let it be decided later whether they were needed. + +So we sailed away. And when I took John's hand, and kissed him good-by, +I saw him for the last time in his civilian clothes. + +"Well, son," I said, "you're going home to be a soldier, a fighting +soldier. You will soon be commanding men. Remember that you can never +ask a man to do something you would no dare to do yourself!" + +And, oh, the braw look in the eyes of the bonnie laddie as he tilted +his chin up to me! + +"I will remember, Dad!" he said. + +And so long as a bit of the dock was in sight we could see him waving +to us. We were not to see him again until the next January, at Bedford, +in England, where he was training the raw men of his company. + +Those were the first days of war. The British navy was on guard. From +every quarter the whimpering wireless brought news of this German +warship and that. They were scattered far and wide, over the Seven +Seas, you ken, when the war broke out. There was no time for them to +make a home port. They had their choice, most of them, between being +interned in some neutral port and setting out to do as much mischief +as they could to British commerce before they were caught. Caught +they were sure to be. They must have known it. And some there were to +brave the issue and match themselves against England's great naval power. + +Perhaps they knew that few ports would long be neutral! Maybe they +knew of the abominable war the Hun was to wage. But I think it was +not such men as those who chose to take their one chance in a +thousand who were sent out, later, in their submarines, to send women +and babies a to their deaths with their torpedoes! + +Be that as it may, we sailed away from Melbourne. But it was in +Sydney Harbor that we anchored next--not in Wellington, as we, on the +ship, all thought it would be! And the reason was that the navy, +getting word that the German cruiser _Emden_ was loose and raiding, +had ordered our captain to hug the shore, and to put in at Sydney +until he was told it was safe to proceed. + +We were not much delayed, and came to Wellington safely. New Zealand +was all ablaze with the war spirit. There was no hesitation there. +The New Zealand troops were mobilizing when we arrived, and every +recruiting office was besieged with men. Splendid laddies they were, +who looked as if they would give a great account of themselves. As +they did--as they did. Their deeds at Gallipoli speak for them and +will forever speak for them--the men of Australia and New Zealand. + +There the word Anzac was made--made from the first letters of these +words: Australian New Zealand Army Corps. It is a word that will +never die. + +Even in the midst of war they had time to give me a welcome that +warmed my heart. And there were pipers with them, too, skirling a +tune as I stepped ashore. There were tears in my eyes again, as there +had been at Sydney. Every laddie in uniform made me think of my own +boy, well off, by now, on his way home to Britain and the duty that +had called him. + +They were gathering, all over the Empire, those of British blood. +They were answering the call old Britain had sent across the seven +seas to the far corners of the earth. Even as the Scottish clans +gathered of old the greater British clans were gathering now. It was +a great thing to see that in the beginning; it has comforted me many +a time since, in a black hour, when news was bad and the Hun was +thundering at the line that was so thinly held in France. + +Here were free peoples, not held, not bound, free to choose their +way. Britain could not make their sons come to her aid. If they came +they must come freely, joyously, knowing that it was a right cause, a +holy cause, a good cause, that called them. I think of the way they +came--of the way I saw them rising to the summons, in New Zealand, in +Australia, later in Canada. Aye, and I saw more--I saw Americans +slipping across the border, putting on Britain's khaki there in +Canada, because they knew that it was the fight of humanity, of +freedom, that they were entering. And that, too, gave me comfort +later in dark times, for it made me know that when the right time +came America would take her place beside old Britain and brave France. + +New Zealand is a bonnie land. It made me think, sometimes, of the +Hielands of Scotland. A bonnie land, and braw are its people. They +made me happy there, and they made much of me. + +At Christchurch they did a strange thing. They were selling off, at +auction, a Union Jack--the flag of Britain. Such a thing had never +been done before, or thought of. But here was a reason and a good +one. Money was needed for the laddies who were going--needed for all +sorts of things. To buy them small comforts, and tobacco, and such +things as the government might not be supplying them. And so they +asked me to be their auctioneer. + +I played a fine trick upon them there in Christchurch. But I was not +ashamed of myself, and I think they have forgi'en me--those good +bodies at Christchurch! + +Here was the way of it. I was auctioneer, you ken--but that was not +enough to keep me from bidding myself. And so I worked them up and +on--and then I bid in the flag for myself for a hundred pounds--five +hundred dollars of American money. + +I had my doots about how they'd be taking it to have a stranger carry +their flag away. And so I bided a wee. I stayed that night in +Christchurch, and was to stay longer. I could wait. Above yon town of +Christchurch stretch the Merino Hills. On them graze sheep by the +thousand--and it is from those sheep that the true Merino wool comes. +And in the gutters of Christchurch there flows, all day long, a +stream of water as clear and pure as ever you might hope to see. And +it should be so, for it is from artesian wells that it is pumped. + +Aweel, I bided that night and by next day they were murmuring in the +town, and their murmurs came to me. They thought it wasna richt for a +Scotsman to be carrying off their flag--though he'd bought it and +paid for it. And so at last they came to me, and wanted to be buying +back the flag. And I was agreeable. + +"Aye-I'll sell it back to ye!" I told them. "But at a price, ye ken-- +at a price! Pay me twice what I paid for it and it shall be yours!" + +There was a Scots bargain for you! They must have thought me mean and +grasping that day. But out they went. They worked for the money. It +was but just a month after war had been declared, and money was still +scarce and shy of peeping out and showing itself. But, bit by bit, they +got the siller. A shilling at a time they raised, by subscription. But +they got it all, and brought it to me, smiling the while. + +"Here, Harry--here's your money!" they said. "Now give us back our flag!" + +Back to them I gave it--and with it the money they had brought, to be +added to the fund for the soldier boys. And so that one flag brought +three hundred pounds sterling to the soldiers. I wonder did those +folk at Christchurch think I would keep the money and make a profit +on that flag? + +Had it been another time I'd have stayed in New Zealand gladly a long +time. It was a friendly place, and it gave us many a new friend. But +home was calling me. There was more than the homebound tour that had +been planned and laid out for me. I did not know how soon my boy +might be going to France. And his mother and I wanted to see him +again before he went, and to be as near him as might be. + +So I was glad as well as sorry to sail away from New Zealand's +friendly shores, to the strains of pipers softly skirling: + +"Will ye no come back again?" + +We sailed for Sydney on the _Minnehaha_, a fast boat. We were glad of +her speed a day or so out, for there was smoke on the horizon that +gave some anxious hours to our officers. Some thought the German +raider _Emden_ was under that smoke. And it would not have been +surprising had a raider turned up in our path. For just before we +sailed it had been discovered that the man in charge of the principal +wireless station in New Zealand was a German, and he had been +interned. Had he sent word to German warships of the plans and +movements of British ships? No one could prove it, so he was only +interned. + +Back we went to Sydney. A great change had come since our departure. +The war ruled all deed and thought. Australia was bound now to do her +part. No less faithfully and splendidly than New Zealand was she +engaged upon the enterprise the Hun had thrust upon the world. +Everyone was eager for news, but it was woefully scarce. Those were +the black, early days, when the German rush upon Paris was being +stayed, after the disasters of the first fortnight of the war, at the +Marne. + +Everywhere, though there was no lack of determination to see the war +through to a finish, no matter how remote that might be, the feeling +was that this war was too huge, too vast, to last long. Exhaustion +would end it. War upon the modern scale could not last. So they said +--in September, 1914! So many of us believed--and this is the spring +of the fourth year of the war, and the end is not yet, is not in +sight, I fear. + +Sydney turned out, almost as magnificently as when I had first landed +upon Australian soil, to bid me farewell. And we embarked again upon +that same old _Sonoma_ that had brought us to Australia. Again I saw +Paga-Paga and the natural folk, who had no need to toil nor spin to +live upon the fat of the land and be arrayed in the garments that +were always up to the minute in style. + +Again I saw Honolulu, and, this time, stayed longer, and gave a +performance. But, though we were there longer, it was not long enough +to make me yield to that temptation to cuddle one of the brown +lassies! Aweel, I was not so young as I had been, and Mrs. Lauder-- +you ken that she was travelling with me? + +In the harbor of Honolulu there was a German gunboat, the _Geier_, +that had run there for shelter not long since, and had still left a +day or two, under the orders from Washington, to decide whether she +would let herself be interned or not. And outside, beyond the three +mile limit that marked the end of American territorial waters, were +two good reasons to make the German think well of being interned. +They were two cruisers, squat and ugly and vicious in their gray war +paint, that watched the entrance to the harbor as you have seen a cat +watching a rat hole. + +It was not Britain's white ensign that they flew, those cruisers. It +was the red sun flag of Japan, one of Britain's allies against the +Hun. They had their vigil in vain, did those two cruisers. It was +valor's better part, discretion, that the German captain chose. +Aweel, you could no blame him! He and his ship would have been blown +out of the water so soon as she poked her nose beyond American +waters, had he chosen to go out and fight. + +I was glad indeed when we came in sight of the Golden Gate once more, +and when we were safe ashore in San Francisco. It had been a +nerve-racking voyage in many ways. My wife and I were torn with +anxiety about our boy. And there were German raiders loose; one or two +had, so far, eluded the cordon the British fleet had flung about the +world. One night, soon after we left Honolulu, we were stopped. We +thought it was a British cruiser that stopped us, but she would only +ask questions--answering those we asked was not for her! + +But we were ashore at last. There remained only the trip across the +United States to New York and the voyage across the Atlantic home. + + + +CHAPTER III + +Now indeed we began to get real news of the war. We heard of how that +little British army had flung itself into the maw of the Hun. I came +to know something of the glories of the retreat from Mons, and of how +French and British had turned together at the Marne and had saved +Paris. But, alas, I heard too of how many brave men had died--had +been sacrificed, many and many a man of them, to the failure of +Britain to prepare. + +That was past and done. What had been wrong was being mended now. +Better, indeed--ah, a thousand times better!--had Britain given heed +to Lord Roberts, when he preached the gospel of readiness and prayed +his countrymen to prepare for the war that he in his wisdom had +foreseen. But it was easier now to look into the future. + +I could see, as all the world was beginning to see, that this war was +not like other wars. Lord Kitchener had said that Britain must make +ready for a three year war, and I, for one, believed him when others +scoffed, and said he was talking so to make the recruits for his +armies come faster to the colors. I could see that this war might +last for years. And it was then, back in 1914, in the first winter of +the war, that I began to warn my friends in America that they might +well expect the Hun to drag them into the war before its end. And I +made up my mind that I must beg Americans who would listen to me to +prepare. + +So, all the way across the continent, I spoke, in every town we +visited, on that subject of preparedness. I had seen Britain, living +in just such a blissful anticipation of eternal peace as America then +dreamed of. I had heard, for years, every attempt that was made to +induce Britain to increase her army met with the one, unvarying reply. + +"We have our fleet!" That was the answer that was made. And, be it +remembered, that at sea, Britain _was_ prepared! "We have our fleet. +We need no army. If there is a Continental war, we may not be drawn +in at all. Even if we are, they can't reach us. The fleet is between +us and invasion." + +"But," said the advocates of preparedness, "we might have to send an +expeditionary force. If France were attacked, we should have to help +her on land as well as at sea. And we have sent armies to the +continent before." + +"Yes," the other would reply. "We have an expeditionary force. We can +send more than a hundred thousand men across the channel at short +notice--the shortest. And we can train more men here, at home, in +case of need. The fleet makes that possible." + +Aye, the fleet made that possible. The world may well thank God for +the British fleet. I do not know, and I do not like to think, what +might have come about save for the British fleet. But I do know what +came to that expeditionary force that we sent across the channel +quickly, to the help of our sore stricken ally, France. How many of +that old British army still survive? + +They gave themselves utterly. They were the pick and the flower of +our trained manhood. They should have trained the millions who were +to rise at Kitchener's call. But they could not be held back. They +are gone. Others have risen up to take their places--ten for one--a +hundred for one! But had they been ready at the start! The bonnie +laddies who would be living now, instead of lying in an unmarked +grave in France or Flanders! The women whose eyes would never have +been reddened by their weeping as they mourned a son or a brother or +a husband! + +So I was thinking as I set out to talk to my American friends and beg +them to prepare--prepare! I did not want to see this country share +the experience of Britain. If she needs must be drawn into the war-- +and so I believed, profoundly, from the time when I first learned the +true measure of the Hun--I hoped that she might be ready when she +drew her mighty sword. + +They thought I was mad, at first, many of those to whom I talked. +They were so far away from the war. And already the propaganda of the +Germans was at work. Aye, they thought I was raving when I told them +I'd stake my word on it. America would never be able to stay out +until the end. They listened to me. They were willing to do that. But +they listened, doubtingly. I think I convinced few of ought save that +I believed myself what I was saying. + +I could tell them, do you ken, that I'd thought, at first, as they +did! Why, over yon, in Australia, when I'd first heard that the +Germans were attacking France, I was sorry, for France is a bonnie +land. But the idea that Britain might go in I, even then, had laughed +at. And then Britain _had_ gone in! My own boy had gone to the war. +For all I knew I might be reading of him, any day, when I read of a +charge or a fight over there in France! Anything was possible--aye, +probable! + +I have never called myself a prophet. But then, I think, I had +something of a prophet's vision. And all the time I was struggling +with my growing belief that this was to be a long war, and a +merciless war. I did not want to believe some of the things I knew I +must believe. But every day came news that made conviction sink in +deeper and yet deeper. + +It was not a happy trip, that one across the United States. Our +friends did all they could to make it so, but we were consumed by too +many anxieties and cares. How different was it from my journey +westward--only nine months earlier! The world had changed forever in +those nine months. + +Everywhere I spoke for preparedness. I addressed the Rotary Clubs, +and great audiences turned out to listen to me. I am a Rotarian +myself, and I am proud indeed that I may so proclaim myself. It is a +great organization. Those who came to hear me were cordial, nearly +always. But once or twice I met hostility, veiled but not to be +mistaken. And it was easy to trace it to its source. Germans, who +loved the country they had left behind them to come to a New World +that offered them a better home and a richer life than they could +ever have aspired to at home, were often at the bottom of the +opposition to what I had to say. + +They did not want America to prepare, lest her weight be flung into +the scale against Germany. And there were those who hated Britain. +Some of these remembered old wars and grudges that sensible folk had +forgotten long since; others, it may be, had other motives. But there +was little real opposition to what I had to say. It was more a good +natured scoffing, and a feeling that I was cracked a wee bit, +perhaps, about the war. + +I was not sorry to see New York again. We stayed there but one day, +and then sailed for home on the Cunarder _Orduna_--which has since +been sunk, like many another good ship, by the Hun submarines. + +But those were the days just before the Hun began his career of real +frightfulness upon the sea--and under it. Even the Hun came gradually +to the height of his powers in this war. It was not until some weeks +later that he startled the world by proclaiming that every ship that +dared to cross a certain zone of the sea would be sunk without warning. + +When we sailed upon the old _Orduna_ we had anxieties, to be sure. +The danger of striking a mine was never absent, once we neared the +British coasts. There was always the chance, we knew, that some +German raider might have slipped through the cordon in the North Sea. +But the terrors that were to follow the crime of the _Lusitania_ still +lay in the future. They were among the things no man could foresee. + +The _Orduna_ brought us safe to the Mersey and we landed at Liverpool. +Even had there been no thought of danger to the ship, that voyage would +have been a hard one for us to endure. We never ceased thinking of John, +longing for him and news of him. It was near Christmas, but we had small +hope that we should be able to see him on that day. + +All through the voyage we were shut away from all news. The wireless +is silenced in time of war, save for such work as the government +allows. There is none of the free sending, from shore to ship, and +ship to ship, of all the news of the world, such as one grows to +welcome in time of peace. And so, from New York until we neared the +British coast, we brooded, all of us. How fared it with Britain in +the war? Had the Hun launched some new and terrible attack? + +[ILLUSTRATION: "I did not stop at sending out my recruiting band. I +went out myself.". (See Lauder02.jpg)] + +But two days out from home we saw a sight to make us glad and end our +brooding for a space. + +"Eh, Harry--come and look you!" someone called to me. It was early in +the morning, and there was a mist about us. + +I went to the rail and looked in the direction I was told. And there, +rising suddenly out of the mist, shattering it, I saw great, gray +ships--warships--British battleships and cruisers. There they were, +some of the great ships that are the steel wall around Britain that +holds her safe. My heart leaped with joy and pride at the sight of +them, those great, gray guardians of the British shores, bulwarks of +steel that fend all foemen from the rugged coast and the fair land +that lies behind it. + +Now we were safe, ourselves! Who would not trust the British navy, +after the great deeds it has done in this war? For there, mind you, +is the one force that has never failed. The British navy has done +what it set out to do. It has kept command of the seas. The +submarines? The tin fish? They do not command the sea! Have they kept +Canada's men, and America's, from reaching France? + +When we landed my first inquiry was for my son John. He was well, and +he was still in England, in training at Bedford with his regiment, +the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders. But it was as we had feared. +Our Christmas must be kept apart. And so the day before Christmas +found us back in our wee hoose on the Clyde, at Dunoon. But we +thought of little else but the laddie who was making ready to fight +for us, and of the day, that was coming soon, when we should see him. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +It was a fitting place to train men for war, Bedford, where John was +with his regiment, and where his mother and I went to see him so soon +as we could after Christmas. It is in the British midlands, but +before the factory towns begin. It is a pleasant, smiling country, +farming country, mostly, with good roads, and fields that gave the +boys chances to learn the work of digging trenches--aye, and living +in them afterward. + +Bedford is one of the great school towns of England. Low, rolling +hills lie about it; the river Ouse, a wee, quiet stream, runs through +it. Schooling must be in the air of Bedford! Three great schools for +boys are there, and two for girls. And Liberty is in the air of +Bedford, too, I think! John Bunyan was born two miles from Bedford, +and his old house still stands in Elstow, a little village of old +houses and great oaks. And it was in Bedford Jail that Bunyan was +imprisoned because he would fight for the freedom of his own soul. + +John was waiting to greet us, and he looked great. He had two stars +now where he had one before--he had been promoted to first +lieutenant. There were curious changes in the laddie I remembered. He +was bigger, I thought, and he looked older, and graver. But that I +could not wonder at. He had a great responsibility. The lives of +other men had been entrusted to him, and John was not the man to take +a responsibility like that lightly. + +I saw him the first day I was at Bedford, leading some of his men in +a practice charge. Big, braw laddies they were--all in their kilts. +He ran ahead of them, smiling as he saw me watching them, but turning +back to cheer them on if he thought they were not fast enough. I +could see as I watched him that he had caught the habit of command. +He was going to be a good officer. It was a proud thought for me, and +again I was rejoiced that it was such a son that I was able to offer +to my country. + +They were kept busy at that training camp. Men were needed sore in +France. Recruits were going over every day. What the retreat from +Mons and the Battle of the Marne had left of that first heroic +expeditionary force the first battle of Ypres had come close to +wiping out. In the Ypres salient our men out there were hanging on +like grim death. There was no time to spare at Bedford, where men +were being made ready as quickly as might be to take their turn in +the trenches. + +But there was a little time when John and I could talk. + +"What do you need most, son?" I asked him. + +"Men!" he cried. "Men, Dad, men! They're coming in quickly. Oh, +Britain has answered nobly to the call. But they're not coming in +fast enough. We must have more men--more men!" + +I had thought, when I asked my question, of something John might be +needing for himself, or for his men, mayhap. But when he answered me +so I said nothing. I only began to think. I wanted to go myself. But +I knew they would not have me--yet awhile, at any rate. And still I +felt that I must do something. I could not rest idle while all around +me men were giving themselves and all they had and were. + +Everywhere I heard the same cry that John had raised: + +"Men! Give us men!" + +It came from Lord Kitchener. It came from the men in command in +France and Belgium--that little strip of Belgium the Hun had not been +able to conquer. It came from every broken, maimed man who came back +home to Britain to be patched up that he might go out again. There +were scores of thousands of men in Britain who needed only the last +quick shove to send them across the line of enlistment. And after I +had thought a while I hit upon a plan. + +"What stirs a man's fighting spirit quicker or better than the right +sort of music?" I asked myself. "And what sort of music does it best +of all?" + +There can be only one answer to that last question! And so I +organized my recruiting band, that was to be famous all over Britain +before so very long. I gathered fourteen of the best pipers and +drummers I could find in all Scotland. I equipped them, gave them the +Highland uniform, and sent them out, to travel over Britain skirling +and drumming the wail of war through the length and breadth of the +land. They were to go everywhere, carrying the shrieking of the pipes +into the highways and the byways, and so they did. And I paid the bills. + +That was the first of many recruiting bands that toured Britain. +Because it was the first, and because of the way the pipers skirled +out the old hill melodies and songs of Scotland, enormous crowds +followed my band. And it led them straight to the recruiting +stations. There was a swing and a sway about those old tunes that the +young fellows couldn't resist. + +The pipers would begin to skirl and the drums to beat in a square, +maybe, or near the railway station. And every time the skirling of +the pipes would bring the crowd. Then the pipers would march, when +the crowd was big enough, and lead the way always to the recruiting +place. And once they were there the young fellows who weren't "quite +ready to decide" and the others who were just plain slackers, willing +to let better men die for them, found it mighty hard to keep from going +on the wee rest of the way that the pipers had left them to make alone! + +It was wonderful work my band did, and when the returns came to me I +felt like the Pied Piper! Yes I did, indeed! + +I did not travel with my band. That would have been a waste of +effort. There was work for both of us to do, separately. I was booked +for a tour of Britain, and everywhere I went I spoke, and urged the +young men to enlist. I made as many speeches as I could, in every +town and city that I visited, and I made special trips to many. I +thought, and there were those who agreed with me, that I could, it +might be, reach audiences another speaker, better trained than I, no +doubt, in this sort of work, would not touch. + +So there was I, without official standing, going about, urging every +man who could to don khaki. I talked wherever and whenever I could +get an audience together, and I began then the habit of making +speeches in the theatres, after my performance, that I have not yet +given up. I talked thus to the young men. + +"If you don't do your duty now," I told them, "you may live to be old +men. But even if you do, you will regret it! Yours will be a +sorrowful old age. In the years to come, mayhap, there'll be a wee +grandchild nestling on your knee that'll circle its little arms about +your neck and look into your wrinkled face, and ask you: + +"'How old are you, Grandpa? You're a very old man.' + +"How will you answer that bairn's question?" So I asked the young +men. And then I answered for them: "I don't know how old I am, but I +am so old that I can remember the great war." + +"And then"--I told them, the young men who were wavering--"and then +will come the question that you will always have to dread--when you +have won through to the old age that may be yours in safety if you +shirk now! For the bairn will ask you, straightaway: 'Did _you_ fight +in the great war, Grandpa? What did you do?' + +"God help the man," I told them, "who cannot hand it down as a +heritage to his children and his children's children that he fought +in the great war!" + +I must have impressed many a brave lad who wanted only a bit of +resolution to make him do his duty. They tell me that I and my band +together influenced more than twelve thousand men to join the colors; +they give me credit for that many, in one way and another. I am proud +of that. But I am prouder still of the way the boys who enlisted upon +my urging feel. Never a one has upbraided me; never a one has told me +he was sorry he had heard me and been led to go. + +It is far otherwise. The laddies who went because of me called me +their godfather, many of them! Many's the letter I have had from +them; many the one who has greeted me, as I was passing through a +hospital, or, long afterward, when I made my first tour in France, +behind the front line trenches. Many letters, did I say? I have had +hundreds--thousands! And not so much as a word of regret in any one +of them. + +It was not only in Britain that I influenced enlistments. I preached +the cause of the Empire in Canada, later. And here is a bit of verse +that a Canadian sergeant sent to me. He dedicated it to me, indeed, +and I am proud and glad that he did. + + "ONE OF THE BOYS WHO WENT" + + Say, here now, Mate, + Don't you figure it's great + To think when this war is all over; + When we're through with this mud, + And spilling o' blood, + And we're shipped back again to old Dover. + When they've paid us our tin, + And we've blown the lot in, + And our last penny is spent; + We'll still have a thought-- + If it's all that we've got-- + I'm one of the boys who went! + And perhaps later on + When your wild days are gone, + You'll be settling down for life, + You've a girl in your eye + You'll ask bye and bye + To share up with you as your wife. + When a few years have flown, + And you've kids of your own, + And you're feeling quite snug and content; + It'll make your heart glad + When they boast of their dad + As one of the boys who went! + +There was much work for me to do beside my share in the campaign to +increase enlistments. Every day now the wards of the hospitals were +filling up. Men suffering from frightful wounds came back to be +mended and made as near whole as might be. And among them there was +work for me, if ever the world held work for any man. + +I did not wait to begin my work in the hospitals. Everywhere I went, +where there were wounded men, I sang for those who were strong enough +to be allowed to listen, and told them stories, and did all I could +to cheer them up. It was heartrending work, oftentimes. There were +dour sights, dreadful sights in those hospitals. There were wounds +the memory of which robbed me of sleep. There were men doomed to +blindness for the rest of their lives. + +But over all there was a spirit that never lagged or faltered, and +that strengthened me when I thought some sight was more than I could +bear. It was the spirit of the British soldier, triumphant over +suffering and cruel disfigurement, with his inevitable answer to any +question as to how he was getting on. I never heard that answer +varied when a man could speak at all. Always it was the same. Two +words were enough. + +"All right!" + + + +CHAPTER V + +As I went about the country now, working hard to recruit men, to +induce people to subscribe to the war loan, doing all the things in +which I saw a chance to make myself useful, there was now an ever +present thought. When would John go out? He must go soon. I knew +that, so did his mother. We had learned that he would not be sent +without a chance to bid us good-by. There we were better off than +many a father and mother in the early days of the war. Many's the +mother who learned first that her lad had gone to France when they +told her he was dead. And many's the lassie who learned in the same +way that her lover would never come home to be her husband. + +But by now Britain was settled down to war. It was as if war were the +natural state of things, and everything was adjusted to war and those +who must fight it. And many things were ordered better and more +mercifully than they had been at first. + +It was in April that word came to us. We might see John again, his +mother and I, if we hurried to Bedford. And so we did. For once I +heeded no other call. It was a sad journey, but I was proud and glad +as well as sorry. John must do his share. There was no reason why my +son should take fewer risks than another man's. That was something +all Britain was learning in those days. We were one people. We must +fight as one; one for all--all for one. + +John was sober when he met us. Sober, aye! But what a light there was +in his eyes! He was eager to be at the Huns. Tales of their doings +were coming back to us now, faster and faster. They were tales to +shock me. But they were tales, too, to whet the courage and sharpen +the steel of every man who could fight and meant to go. + +It was John's turn to go. So it was he felt. And so it was his mother +and I bid him farewell, there at Bedford. We did not know whether we +would ever see him again, the bonnie laddie! We had to bid him good-by, +lest it be our last chance. For in Britain we knew, by then, what were +the chances they took, those boys of ours who went out. + +"Good-by, son--good luck!" + +"Good-by, Dad. See you when I get leave!" + +That was all. We were not allowed to know more than that he was +ordered to France. Whereabouts in the long trench line he would be +sent we were not told. "Somewhere in France." That phrase, that had +been dinned so often into our ears, had a meaning for us now. + +And now, indeed, our days and nights were anxious ones. The war was +in our house as it had never been before. I could think of nothing +but my boy. And yet, all the time I had to go on. I had to carry on, +as John was always bidding his men do. I had to appear daily before +my audiences, and laugh and sing, that I might make them laugh, and +so be better able to do their part. + +They had made me understand, my friends, by that time, that it was +really right for me to carry on with my own work. I had not thought +so at first. I had felt that it was wrong for me to be singing at +such a time. But they showed me that I was influencing thousands to +do their duty, in one way or another, and that I was helping to keep +up the spirit of Britain, too. + +"Never forget the part that plays, Harry," my friends told me. +"That's the thing the Hun can't understand. He thought the British +would be poor fighters because they went into action with a laugh. +But that's the thing that makes them invincible. You've your part to +do in keeping up that spirit." + +So I went on but it was with a heavy heart, oftentimes. John's +letters were not what made my heart heavy. There was good cheer in +everyone of them. He told us as much as the censor's rules would let +him of the front, and of conditions as he found them. They were still +bad--cruelly bad. But there was no word of complaint from John. + +The Germans still had the best of us in guns in those days, although +we were beginning to catch up with them. And they knew more about +making themselves comfortable in the trenches than did our boys. No +wonder! They spent years of planning and making ready for this war. +And it has not taken us so long, all things considered, to catch up +with them. + +John's letters were cheery and they came regularly, too, for a time. +But I suppose it was because they left out so much, because there was +so great a part of my boy's life that was hidden from me, that I +found myself thinking more and more of John as a wee bairn and as a +lad growing up. + +He was a real boy. He had the real boy's spirit of fun and mischief. +There was a story I had often told of him that came to my mind now. +We were living in Glasgow. One drizzly day, Mrs. Lauder kept John in +the house, and he spent the time standing at the parlor window +looking down on the street, apparently innocently interested in the +passing traffic. + +In Glasgow it is the custom for the coal dealers to go along the +streets with their lorries, crying their wares, much after the manner +of a vegetable peddler in America. If a housewife wants any coal, she +goes to the window when she hears the hail of the coal man, and holds +up a finger, or two fingers, according to the number of sacks of coal +she wants. + +To Mrs. Lauder's surprise, and finally to her great vexation, coal +men came tramping up our stairs every few minutes all afternoon, each +one staggering under the weight of a hundredweight sack of coal. She +had ordered no coal and she wanted no coal, but still the coal men +came--a veritable pest of them. + +They kept coming, too, until she discovered that little John was the +author of their grimy pilgrimages to our door. He was signalling +every passing lorrie from the window in the Glasgow coal code! + +I watched him from that window another day when he was quarreling +with a number of playmates in the street below. The quarrel finally +ended in a fight. John was giving one lad a pretty good pegging, when +the others decided that the battle was too much his way, and jumped +on him. + +John promptly executed a strategic retreat. He retreated with +considerable speed, too. I saw him running; I heard the patter of his +feet on our stairs, and a banging at our door. I opened it and +admitted a flushed, disheveled little warrior, and I heard the other +boys shouting up the stairs what they would do to him. + +By the time I got the door closed, and got back to our little parlor, +John was standing at the window, giving a marvelous pantomime for the +benefit of his enemies in the street. He was putting his small, +clenched fist now to his nose, and now to his jaw, to indicate to the +youngsters what he was going to do to them later on. + +Those, and a hundred other little incidents, were as fresh in my +memory as if they had only occurred yesterday. His mother and I +recalled them over and over again. From the day John was born, it +seems to me the only things that really interested me were the things +in which he was concerned. I used to tuck him in his crib at night. +The affairs of his babyhood were far more important to me than my own +personal affairs. + +I watched him grow and develop with enormous pride, and he took great +pride in me. That to me was far sweeter than praise from crowned +heads. Soon he was my constant companion. He was my business +confidant. More--he was my most intimate friend. + +There were no secrets between us. I think that John and I talked of +things that few fathers and sons have the courage to discuss. He +never feared to ask my advice on any subject, and I never feared to +give it to him. + +I wish you could have known my son as he was to me. I wish all +fathers could know their sons as I knew John. He was the most +brilliant conversationalist I have ever known. He was my ideal +musician. + +He took up music only as an accomplishment, however. He did not want +to be a performer, although he had amazing natural talent in that +direction. Music was born in him. He could transpose a melody in any +key. You could whistle an air for him, and he could turn it into a +little opera at once. + +However, he was anxious to make for himself in some other line of +endeavor, and while he was often my piano accompanist, he never had +any intention of going on the stage. + +When he was fifteen years old, I was commanded to appear before King +Edward, who was a guest at Rufford Abbey, the seat of Lord and Lady +Sayville, situated in a district called the Dukeries, and I took John +as my accompanist. + +I gave my usual performance, and while I was making my changes, John +played the piano. At the close, King Edward sent for me, and thanked +me. It was a proud moment for me, but a prouder moment came when the +King spoke of John's playing, and thanked him for his part in the +entertainment. + +There were curious contradictions, it often seemed to me, in John. +His uncle, Tom Vallance, was in his day, one of the very greatest +football players in Scotland. But John never greatly liked the game. +He thought it was too rough. He thought any game was a poor game in +which players were likely to be hurt. And yet--he had been eager for +the rough game of war! The roughest game of all! + +Ah, but that was not a game to him! He was not one of those who went +to war with a light heart, as they might have entered upon a football +match. All honor to those who went into the war so--they played a +great part and a noble part! But there were more who went to war as +my boy did--taking it upon themselves as a duty and a solemn +obligation. They had no illusions. They did not love war. No! John +hated war, and the black ugly horrors of it. But there were things he +hated more than he hated war. And one was a peace won through +submission to injustice. + +Have I told you how my boy looked? He was slender, but he was strong +and wiry. He was about five feet five inches tall; he topped his Dad +by a handspan. And he was the neatest boy you might ever have hoped +to see. Aye--but he did not inherit that from me! Indeed, he used to +reproach me, oftentimes, for being careless about my clothes. My +collar would be loose, perhaps, or my waistcoat would not fit just +so. He'd not like that, and he would tell me so! + +When he did that I would tell him of times when he was a wee boy, and +would come in from play with a dirty face; how his mother would order +him to wash, and how he would painstakingly mop off just enough of +his features to leave a dark ring abaft his cheeks, and above his +eyes, and below his chin. + +"You wash your face, but never let on to your neck," I would tell him +when he was a wee laddie. + +He had a habit then of parting and brushing about an inch of his +hair, leaving the rest all topsy-turvy. My recollection of that +boyhood habit served me as a defense in later years when he would +call my attention to my own disordered hair. + +I linger long, and I linger lovingly over these small details, +because they are part of my daily thoughts. Every day some little +incident comes up to remind me of my boy. A battered old hamper, in +which I carry my different character make-ups, stands in my dressing +room. It was John's favorite seat. Every time I look at it I have a +vision of a tiny wide-eyed boy perched on the lid, watching me make +ready for the stage. A lump rises, unbidden, in my throat. + +In all his life, I never had to admonish my son once. Not once. He +was the most considerate lad I have ever known. He was always +thinking of others. He was always doing for others. + +It was with such thoughts as these that John's mother and I filled in +the time between his letters. They came as if by a schedule. We knew +what post should bring one. And once or twice a letter was a post +late and our hearts were in our throats with fear. And then came a +day when there should have been a letter, and none came. The whole +day passed. I tried to comfort John's mother! I tried to believe +myself that it was no more than a mischance of the post. But it was +not that. + +We could do nought but wait. Ah, but the folks at home in Britain +know all too well those sinister breaks in the chains of letters from +the front! Such a break may mean nothing or anything. + +For us, news came quickly. But it was not a letter from John that +came to us. It was a telegram from the war office and it told us no +more than that our boy was wounded and in hospital. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +"Wounded and in hospital!" + +That might have meant anything. And for a whole week that was all we +knew. To hope for word more definite until--and unless--John himself +could send us a message, appeared to be hopeless. Every effort we +made ended in failure. And, indeed, at such a time, private inquiries +could not well be made. The messages that had to do with the war and +with the business of the armies had to be dealt with first. + +But at last, after a week in which his mother and I almost went mad +with anxiety, there came a note from our laddie himself. He told us +not to fret--that all that ailed him was that his nose was split and +his wrist bashed up a bit! His mother looked at me and I at her. It +seemed bad enough to us! But he made light of his wounds--aye, and he +was right! When I thought of men I'd seen in hospitals--men with +wounds so frightful that they may not be told of--I rejoiced that +John had fared so well. + +And I hoped, too, that his wounds would bring him home to us--to +Blighty, as the Tommies were beginning to call Britain. But his +wounds were not serious enough for that and so soon as they were +healed, he went back to the trenches. + +"Don't worry about me," he wrote to us. "Lots of fellows out here +have been wounded five and six times, and don't think anything of it. +I'll be all right so long as I don't get knocked out." + +He didn't tell us then that it was the bursting of a shell that gave +him his first wounded stripe. But he wrote to us regularly again, and +there were scarcely any days in which a letter did not come either to +me or to his mother. When one of those breaks did come it was doubly +hard to bear now. + +For now we knew what it was to dread the sight of a telegraph +messenger. Few homes in Britain there are that do not share that +knowledge now. It is by telegraph, from the war office, that bad news +comes first. And so, with the memory of that first telegram that we +had had, matters were even worse, somehow, than they had been before. +For me the days and nights dragged by as if they would never pass. + +There was more news in John's letters now. We took some comfort from +that. I remember one in which he told his mother how good a bed he +had finally made for himself the night before. For some reason he was +without quarters--either a billet or a dug-out. He had to skirmish +around, for he did not care to sleep simply in Flanders mud. But at +last he found two handfuls of straw, and with them made his couch. + +"I got a good two hours' sleep," he wrote to his mother. "And I was +perfectly comfortable. I can tell you one thing, too, Mother. If I +ever get home after this experience, there'll be one in the house +who'll never grumble! This business puts the grumbling out of your +head. This is where the men are. This is where every man ought to be." + +In another letter he told us that nine of his men had been killed. + +"We buried them last night," he wrote, "just as the sun went down. It +was the first funeral I have ever attended. It was most impressive. +We carried the boys to one huge grave. The padre said a prayer, and +we lowered the boys into the ground, and we all sang a little hymn: +'Peace, Perfect Peace!' Then I called my men to attention again, and +we marched straight back into the trenches, each of us, I dare say, +wondering who would be the next." + +John was promoted for the second time in Flanders. He was a captain, +having got his step on the field of battle. Promotion came swiftly in +those days to those who proved themselves worthy. And all of the few +reports that came to us of John showed us that he was a good officer. +His men liked him, and trusted him, and would follow him anywhere. +And little more than that can be said of any officer. + +While Captain John Lauder was playing his part across the Channel, I +was still trying to do what I could at home. My band still travelled +up and down, the length and width of the United Kingdom, skirling and +drumming and drawing men by the score to the recruiting office. + +There was no more talk now of a short war. We knew what we were in +for now. + +But there was no thought or talk of anything save victory. Let the +war go on as long as it must--it could end only in one way. We had +been forced into the fight--but we were in, and we were in to stay. +John, writing from France, was no more determined than those at home. + +It was not very long before there came again a break in John's +letters. We were used to the days--far apart--that brought no word. +Not until the second day and the third day passed without a word, did +Mrs. Lauder and I confess our terrors and our anxiety to ourselves +and one another. This time our suspense was comparatively short-lived. +Word came that John was in hospital again--at the Duke of Westminster's +hospital at Le Toquet, in France. This time he was not wounded; he was +suffering from dysentery, fever and--a nervous breakdown. That was what +staggered his mother and me. A nervous breakdown! We could not reconcile +the John we knew with the idea that the words conveyed to us. He had +been high strung, to be sure, and sensitive. But never had he been the +sort of boy of whom to expect a breakdown so severe as this must be if +they had sent him to the hospital. + +We could only wait to hear from him, however. And it was several +weeks before he was strong enough to be able to write to us. There +was no hint of discouragement in what he wrote then. On the contrary, +he kept on trying to reassure us, and if he ever grew downhearted, he +made it his business to see that we did not suspect it. Here is one +of his letters--like most of them it was not about himself. + +"I had a sad experience yesterday," he wrote to me. "It was the first +day I was able to be out of bed, and I went over to a piano in a +corner against the wall, sat down, and began playing very softly, +more to myself than anything else. + +"One of the nurses came to me, and said a Captain Webster, of the +Gordon Highlanders, who lay on a bed in the same ward, wanted to +speak to me. She said he had asked who was playing, and she had told +him Captain Lauder--Harry Lauder's son. 'Oh,' he said, 'I know Harry +Lauder very well. Ask Captain Lauder to come here?' + +"This man had gone through ten operations in less than a week. I +thought perhaps my playing had disturbed him, but when I went to his +bedside, he grasped my hand, pressed it with what little strength he +had left, and thanked me. He asked me if I could play a hymn. He said +he would like to hear 'Lead, Kindly Light.' + +"So I went back to the piano and played it as softly and as gently as +I could. It was his last request. He died an hour later. I was very +glad I was able to soothe his last moments a little. I am very glad +now I learned the hymn at Sunday School as a boy." + +[ILLUSTRATION: "'Carry On!' were the last words of my boy, Captain +John Lauder, to his men, but he would mean them for me, too." (See +Lauder03.jpg)] + +Soon after we received that letter there came what we could not but +think great news. John was ordered home! He was invalided, to be +sure, and I warned his mother that she must be prepared for a shock +when she saw him. But no matter how ill he was, we would have our lad +with us for a space. And for that much British fathers and mothers +had learned to be grateful. + +I had warned John's mother, but it was I who was shocked when I saw +him first on the day he came back to our wee hoose at Dunoon. His +cheeks were sunken, his eyes very bright, as a man's are who has a +fever. He was weak and thin, and there was no blood in his cheeks. It +was a sight to wring one's heart to see the laddie so brought down-- +him who had looked so braw and strong the last time we had seen him. + +That had been when he was setting out for the wars, you ken! And now +he was back, sae thin and weak and pitiful as I had not seen him +since he had been a bairn in his mother's arms. + +Aweel, it was for us, his mother and I, and all the folks at home, to +mend him, and make him strong again. So he told us, for he had but +one thing on his mind--to get back to his men. + +"They'll be needing me, out there," he said. "They're needing men. I +must go back so soon as I can. Every man is needed there." + +"You'll be needing your strength back before you can be going back, +son," I told him. "If you fash and fret it will take you but so much +the longer to get back." + +He knew that. But he knew things I could not know, because I had not +seen them. He had seen things that he saw over and over again when he +tried to sleep. His nerves were shattered utterly. It grieved me sore +not to spend all my time with him but he would not hear of it. He +drove me back to my work. + +"You must work on, Dad, like every other Briton," he said. "Think of +the part you're playing. Why you're more use than any of us out +there--you're worth a brigade!" + +So I left him on the Clyde, and went on about my work. But I went +back to Dunoon as often as I could, as I got a day or a night to make +the journey. At first there was small change of progress. John would +come downstairs about the middle of the day, moving slowly and +painfully. And he was listless; there was no life in him; no +resiliency or spring. + +"How did you rest, son?" I would ask him. He always smiled when he +answered. + +"Oh, fairly well," he'd tell me. "I fought three or four battles +though, before I dropped off to sleep." + +He had come to the right place to be cured, though, and his mother +was the nurse he needed. It was quiet in the hills of the Clyde, and +there was rest and healing in the heather about Dunoon. Soon his +sleep became better and less troubled by dreams. He could eat more, +too, and they saw to it, at home, that he ate all they could stuff +into him. + +So it was a surprisingly short time, considering how bad he had +looked when he first came back to Dunoon, before he was in good +health and spirits again. There was a bonnie, wee lassie who was to +become Mrs. John Lauder ere so long--she helped our boy, too, to get +back his strength. + +Soon he was ordered from home. For a time he had only light duties +with the Home Reserve. Then he went to school. I laughed when he told +me he had been ordered to school, but he didna crack a smile. + +"You needn't be laughing," he said. "It's a bombing school I'm going +to now-a-days. If you're away from the front for a few weeks, you +find everything changed when you get back. Bombing is going to be +important." + +John did so well in the bombing school that he was made an instructor +and assigned, for a while, to teach others. But he was impatient to +be back with his own men, and they were clamoring for him. And so, on +September 16, 1916, his mother and I bade him good-by again, and he +went back to France and the men his heart was wrapped up in. + +"Yon's where the men are, Dad!" he said to me, just before he started. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +John's mother, his sweetheart and I all saw him off at Glasgow. The +fear was in all our hearts, and I think it must have been in all our +eyes, as well--the fear that every father and mother and sweetheart +in Britain shared with us in these days whenever they saw a boy off +for France and the trenches. Was it for the last time? Were we seeing +him now so strong and hale and hearty, only to have to go the rest of +our lives with no more than a memory of him to keep? + +Aweel, we could not be telling that! We could only hope and pray! And +we had learned again to pray, long since. I have wondered, often, and +Mrs. Lauder has wondered with me, what the fathers and mothers of +Britain would do in these black days without prayer to guide them and +sustain them. So we could but stand there, keeping back our tears and +our fears, and hoping for the best. One thing was sure; we might not +let the laddie see how close we were to greeting. It was for us to be +so brave as God would let us be. It was hard for him. He was no boy, +you ken, going blindly and gayly to a great adventure; he had need of +the finest courage and devotion a man could muster that day. + +For he knew fully now what it was that he was going back to. He knew +the hell the Huns had made of war, which had been bad enough, in all +conscience, before they did their part to make it worse. And he was +high strung. He could live over, and I make no doubt he did, in those +days after he had his orders to go back, every grim and dreadful +thing that was waiting for him out there. He had been through it all, +and he was going back. He had come out of the valley of the shadow, +and now he was to ride down into it again. + +And it was with a smile he left us! I shall never forget that. His +thought was all for us whom he was leaving behind. His care was for +us, lest we should worry too greatly and think too much of him. + +"I'll be all right," he told us. "You're not to fret about me, any of +you. A man does take his chances out there--but they're the chances +every man must take these days, if he's a man at all. I'd rather be +taking them than be safe at home." + +We did our best to match the laddie's spirit and be worthy of him. +But it was cruelly hard. We had lost him and found him again, and now +he was being taken from us for the second time. It was harder, much +harder, to see him go this second time than it had been at first, and +it had been hard enough then, and bad enough. But there was nothing +else for it. So much we knew. It was a thing ordered and inevitable. + +And it was not many days before we had slipped back into the way +things had been before John was invalided home. It is a strange thing +about life, the way that one can become used to things. So it was +with us. Strange things, terrible things, outrageous things, that, in +time of peace, we would never have dared so much as to think +possible, came to be the matters of every day for us. It was so with +John. We came to think of it as natural that he should be away from +us, and in peril of his life every minute of every hour. It was not +easier for us. Indeed, it was harder than it had been before, just as +it had been harder for us to say good-by the second time. But we +thought less often of the strangeness of it. We were really growing +used to the war, and it was less the monstrous, strange thing than it +had been in our daily lives. War had become our daily life and +portion in Britain. All who were not slackers were doing their part-- +every one. Man and woman and child were in it, making sacrifices. +Those happy days of peace lay far behind us, and we had lost our +touch with them and our memory of them was growing dim. We were all +in it. We had all to suffer alike, we were all in the same boat, we +mothers and fathers and sweethearts of Britain. And so it was easier +for us not to think too much and too often of our own griefs and +cares and anxieties. + +John's letters began to come again in a steady stream. He was as +careful as ever about writing. There was scarcely a day that did not +bring its letter to one of the three of us. And what bonnie, brave +letters they were! They were as cheerful and as bright as his first +letters had been. If John had bad hours and bad days out there he +would not let us know it. He told us what news there was, and he was +always cheerful and bright when he wrote. He let no hint of +discouragement creep into anything he wrote to us. He thought of +others first, always and all the time; of his men, and of us at home. +He was quite cured and well, he told us, and going back had done him +good instead of harm. He wrote to us that he felt as if he had come +home. He felt, you ken, that it was there, in France and in the +trenches, that men should feel at home in those days, and not safe in +Britain by their ain firesides. + +It was not easy for me to be cheerful and comfortable about him, +though. I had my work to do. I tried to do it as well as I could, for +I knew that that would please him. My band still went up and down the +country, getting recruits, and I was speaking, too, and urging men +myself to go out and join the lads who were fighting and dying for +them in France. They told me I was doing good work; that I was a +great force in the war. And I did, indeed, get many a word and many a +handshake from men who told me I had induced them to enlist. + +"I'm glad I heard you, Harry," man after man said to me. "You showed +me what I should be doing and I've been easier in my mind ever since +I put on the khaki!" + +I knew they'd never regret it, no matter what came to them. No man +will, that's done his duty. It's the slackers who couldn't or +wouldn't see their duty men should feel sorry for! It's not the lads +who gave everything and made the final sacrifice. + +It was hard for me to go on with my work of making folks laugh. It +had been growing harder steadily ever since I had come home from +America and that long voyage of mine to Australia and had seen what +war was and what it was doing to Britain. But I carried on, and did +the best I could. + +That winter I was in the big revue at the Shaftesbury Theatre, in +London, that was called "Three Cheers." It was one of the gay shows +that London liked because it gave some relief from the war and made +the Zeppelin raids that the Huns were beginning to make so often now +a little easier to bear. And it was a great place for the men who +were back from France. It was partly because of them that I could go +on as I did. We owed them all we could give them. And when they came +back from the mud and the grime and the dreariness of the trenches, +they needed something to cheer them up--needed the sort of production +we gave them. A man who has two days' leave in London does not want +to see a serious play or a problem drama, as a rule. He wants +something light, with lots of pretty girls and jolly tunes and people +to make him laugh. And we gave him that. The house was full of +officers and men, night after night. + +Soon word came from John that he was to have leave, just after +Christmas, that would bring him home for the New Year's holidays. His +mother went home to make things ready, for John was to be married +when he got his leave. I had my plans all made. I meant to build a +wee hoose for the two of them, near our own hoose at Dunoon, so that +we might be all together, even though my laddie was in a home of his +own. And I counted the hours and the days against the time when John +would be home again. + +While we were playing at the Shaftesbury I lived at an hotel in +Southampton Row called the Bonnington. But it was lonely for me +there. On New Year's Eve--it fell on a Sunday--Tom Vallance, my +brother-in-law, asked me to tea with him and his family in Clapham, +where he lived. That is a pleasant place, a suburb of London on the +southwest, and I was glad to go. And so I drove out with a friend of +mine, in a taxicab, and was glad to get out of the crowded part of +the city for a time. + +I did not feel right that day. Holiday times were bad, hard times for +me then. We had always made so much of Christmas, and here was the +third Christmas that our boy had been away. And so I was depressed. +And then, there had been no word for me from John for a day or two. I +was not worried, for I thought it likely that his mother or his +sweetheart had heard, and had not time yet to let me know. But, +whatever the reason, I was depressed and blue, and I could not enter +into the festive spirit that folk were trying to keep alive despite +the war. + +I must have been poor company during that ride to Clapham in the +taxicab. We scarcely exchanged a word, my friend and I. I did not +feel like talking, and he respected my mood, and kept quiet himself. +I felt, at last, that I ought to apologize to him. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me," I told him. "I simply don't +want to talk. I feel sad and lonely. I wonder if my boy is all right?" + +"Of course he is!" my friend told me. "Cheer up, Harry. This is a time +when no news is good news. If anything were wrong with him they'd let +you know." + +Well, I knew that, too. And I tried to cheer up, and feel better, so +that I would not spoil the pleasure of the others at Tom Vallance's +house. I tried to picture John as I thought he must be--well, and +happy, and smiling the old, familiar boyish smile I knew so well. I +had sent him a box of cigars only a few days before, and he would be +handing it around among his fellow officers. I knew that! But it was +no use. I could think of John, but it was only with sorrow and +longing. And I wondered if this same time in a year would see him +still out there, in the trenches. Would this war ever end? And so the +shadows still hung about me when we reached Tom's house. + +They made me very welcome, did Tom and all his family. They tried to +cheer me, and Tom did all he could to make me feel better, and to +reassure me. But I was still depressed when we left the house and +began the drive back to London. + +"It's the holiday--I'm out of gear with that, I'm thinking," I told +my friend. + +He was going to join two other friends, and, with them, to see the +New Year in in an old fashioned way, and he wanted me to join them. +But I did not feel up to it; I was not in the mood for anything of +the sort. + +"No, no, I'll go home and turn in," I told him. "I'm too dull tonight +to be good company." + +He hoped, as we all did, that this New Year that was coming would +bring victory and peace. Peace could not come without victory; we +were all agreed on that. But we all hoped that the New Year would +bring both--the new year of 1917. And so I left him at the corner of +Southhampton Row, and went back to my hotel alone. It was about +midnight, a little before, I think, when I got in, and one of the +porters had a message for me. + +"Sir Thomas Lipton rang you up," he said, "and wants you to speak +with him when you come in." + +I rang him up at home directly. + +"Happy New Year, when it comes, Harry!" he said. He spoke in the same +bluff, hearty way he always did. He fairly shouted in my ear. "When +did you hear from the boy? Are you and Mrs. Lauder well?" + +"Aye, fine," I told him. And I told him my last news of John. + +"Splendid!" he said. "Well, it was just to talk to you a minute that +I rang you up, Harry. Good-night--Happy New Year again." + +I went to bed then. But I did not go to sleep for a long time. It was +New Year's, and I lay thinking of my boy, and wondering what this +year would bring him. It was early in the morning before I slept. And +it seemed to me that I had scarce been asleep at all when there came +a pounding at the door, loud enough to rouse the heaviest sleeper +there ever was. + +My heart almost stopped. There must be something serious indeed for +them to be rousing me so early. I rushed to the door, and there was a +porter, holding out a telegram. I took it and tore it open. And I +knew why I had felt as I had the day before. I shall never forget +what I read: + +"Captain John Lauder killed in action, December 28. Official. +War Office." + +It had gone to Mrs. Lauder at Dunoon first, and she had sent it on to +me. That was all it said. I knew nothing of how my boy had died, or +where--save that it was for his country. + +But later I learned that when Sir Thomas Lipton had rung me up he had +intended to condole with me. He had heard on Saturday of my boy's +death. But when he spoke to me, and understood at once, from the tone +of my voice, that I did not know, he had not been able to go on. His +heart was too tender to make it possible for him to be the one to +give me that blow--the heaviest that ever befell me. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +It was on Monday morning, January the first, 1917, that I learned of +my boy's death. And he had been killed the Thursday before! He had +been dead four days before I knew it! And yet--I had known. Let no +one ever tell me again that there is nothing in presentiment. Why +else had I been so sad and uneasy in my mind? Why else, all through +that Sunday, had it been so impossible for me to take comfort in what +was said to cheer me? Some warning had come to me, some sense that +all was not well. + +Realization came to me slowly. I sat and stared at that slip of +paper, that had come to me like the breath of doom. Dead! Dead these +four days! I was never to see the light of his eyes again. I was +never to hear that laugh of his. I had looked on my boy for the last +time. Could it be true? Ah, I knew it was! And it was for this moment +that I had been waiting, that we had all been waiting, ever since we +had sent John away to fight for his country and do his part. I think +we had all felt that it must come. We had all known that it was too +much to hope that he should be one of those to be spared. + +The black despair that had been hovering over me for hours closed +down now and enveloped all my senses. Everything was unreal. For a +time I was quite numb. But then, as I began to realize and to +visualize what it was to mean in my life that my boy was dead there +came a great pain. The iron of realization slowly seared every word +of that curt telegram upon my heart. I said it to myself, over and +over again. And I whispered to myself, as my thoughts took form, over +and over, the one terrible word: "Dead!" + +I felt that for me everything had come to an end with the reading of +that dire message. It seemed to me that for me the board of life was +black and blank. For me there was no past and there could be no +future. Everything had been swept away, erased, by one sweep of the +hand of a cruel fate. Oh, there was a past, though! And it was in +that past that I began to delve. It was made up of every memory I had +of my boy. I fell at once to remembering him. I clutched at every +memory, as if I must grasp them and make sure of them, lest they be +taken from me as well as the hope of seeing him again that the +telegram had forever snatched away. + +I would have been destitute indeed then. It was as if I must fix in +my mind the way he had been wont to look, and recall to my ears every +tone of his voice, every trick of his speech. There was something +left of him that I must keep, I knew, even then, at all costs, if I +was to be able to bear his loss at all. + +There was a vision of him before my eyes. My bonnie Highland laddie, +brave and strong in his kilt and the uniform of his country, going +out to his death with a smile on his face. And there was another +vision that came up now, unbidden. It was a vision of him lying stark +and cold upon the battlefield, the mud on his uniform. And when I saw +that vision I was like a man gone mad and possessed of devils who had +stolen away his faculties. I cursed war as I saw that vision, and the +men who caused war. And when I thought of the Germans who had killed +my boy a terrible and savage hatred swept me, and I longed to go out +there and kill with my bare hands until I had avenged him or they had +killed me too. + +But then I was a little softened. I thought of his mother back in our +wee hoose at Dunoon. And the thought of her, bereft even as I was, +sorrowing, even as I was, and lost in her frightful loneliness, was +pitiful, so that I had but the one desire and wish--to go to her, and +join my tears with hers, that we who were left alone to bear our +grief might bear it together and give one to the other such comfort +as there might be in life for us. And so I fell upon my knees and +prayed, there in my lonely room in the hotel. I prayed to God that he +might give us both, John's mother and myself, strength to bear the +blow that had been dealt us and to endure the sacrifice that He and +our country had demanded of us. + +My friends came to me. They came rushing to me. Never did man have +better friends, and kindlier friends than mine proved themselves to +me on that day of sorrow. They did all that good men and women could +do. But there was no help for me in the ministration of friends. I +was beyond the power of human words to comfort or solace. I was glad +of their kindness, and the memory of it now is a precious one, and +one I would not be without. But at such a time I could not gain from +them what they were eager to give me. I could only bow my head and +pray for strength. + +That night, that New Year's night that I shall never forget, no +matter how long God may let me live, I went north. I took train from +London to Glasgow, and the next day I came to our wee hoose--a sad, +lonely wee hoose it had become now!--on the Clyde at Dunoon, and was +with John's mother. It was the place for me. It was there that I +wanted to be, and it was with her, who must hereafter be all the +world to me. And I was eager to be with her, too, who had given John +to me. Sore as my grief was, stricken as I was, I could comfort her +as no one else could hope to do, and she could do as much for me. We +belonged together. + +I can scarce remember, even for myself, what happened there at +Dunoon. I cannot tell you what I said or what I did, or what words +and what thoughts passed between John's mother and myself. But there +are some things that I do know and that I will tell you. + +Almighty God, to whom we prayed, was kind, and He was pitiful and +merciful. For presently He brought us both a sort of sad composure. +Presently He assuaged our grief a little, and gave us the strength +that we must have to meet the needs of life and the thought of going +on in a world that was darkened by the loss of the boy in whom all +our thoughts and all our hopes had been centred. I thanked God then, +and I thank God now, that I have never denied Him nor taken His name +in vain. + +For God gave me great thoughts about my boy and about his death. +Slowly, gradually, He made me to see things in their true light, and +He took away the sharp agony of my first grief and sorrow, and gave +me a sort of peace. + +John died in the most glorious cause, and he died the most glorious +death, it may be given to a man to die. He died for humanity. He died +for liberty, and that this world in which life must go on, no matter +how many die, may be a better world to live in. He died in a struggle +against the blackest force and the direst threat that has appeared +against liberty and humanity within the memory of man. And were he +alive now, and were he called again to-day to go out for the same +cause, knowing that he must meet death--as he did meet it--he would +go as smilingly and as willingly as he went then. He would go as a +British soldier and a British gentleman, to fight and die for his +King and his country. And I would bid him go. + +I have lived through much since his death. They have not let me take +a rifle or a sword and go into the trenches to avenge him. . . . But +of that I shall tell you later. + +Ah, it was not at once that I felt so! In my heart, in those early +days of grief and sorrow, there was rebellion, often and often. There +were moments when in my anguish I cried out, aloud: "Why? Why? Why +did they have to take John, my boy--my only child?" + +But God came to me, and slowly His peace entered my soul. And He made +me see, as in a vision, that some things that I had said and that I +had believed, were not so. He made me know, and I learned, straight +from Him, that our boy had not been taken from us forever as I had +said to myself so often since that telegram had come. + +He is gone from this life, but he is waiting for us beyond this life. +He is waiting beyond this life and this world of wicked war and +wanton cruelty and slaughter. And we shall come, some day, his mother +and I, to the place where he is waiting for us, and we shall all be +as happy there as we were on this earth in the happy days before the +war. + +My eyes will rest again upon his face. I will hear his fresh young +voice again as he sees me and cries out his greeting. I know what he +will say. He will spy me, and his voice will ring out as it used to +do. "Hello, Dad!" he will call, as he sees me. And I will feel the +grip of his young, strong arms about me, just as in the happy days +before that day that is of all the days of my life the most terrible +and the most hateful in my memory--the day when they told me that he +had been killed. + +That is my belief. That is the comfort that God has given me in my +grief and my sorrow. There is a God. Ah, yes, there is a God! Times +there are, I know, when some of those who look upon the horrid +slaughter of this war, that is going on, hour by hour, feel that +their faith is being shaken by doubts. They think of the sacrifices, +of the blood that is being poured out, of the sufferings of women and +children. And they see the cause that is wrong and foul prospering, +for a little time, and they cannot understand. + +"If there is a God," they whisper to themselves, "why does he permit +a thing so wicked to go on?" + +But there is a God--there is! I have seen the stark horror of war. I +know, as none can know until he has seen it at close quarters, what a +thing war is as it is fought to-day. And I believe as I do believe, +and as I shall believe until the end, because I know God's comfort +and His grace. I know that my boy is surely waiting for me. In +America, now, there are mothers and fathers by the scores of +thousands who have bidden their sons good-by; who water their letters +from France with their tears--who turn white at the sight of a telegram +and tremble at the sudden clamor of a telephone. Ah, I know--I know! +I suffered as they are suffering! And I have this to tell them and to +beg them. They must believe as I believe--then shall they find the +peace and the comfort that I have found. + +So it was that there, on the Clyde, John's mother and I came out of +the blackness of our first grief. We began to be able to talk to one +another. And every day we talked of John. We have never ceased to do +that, his mother and I. We never shall. We may not have him with us +bodily, but his spirit is never absent. And each day we remember some +new thing about him that one of us can call to the other's mind. And +it is as if, when we do that, we bring back some part of him out of +the void. + +Little, trifling memories of when he was a baby, and when he was a +boy, growing up! And other memories, of later days. Often and often +it was the days that were furthest away that we remembered best of +all, and things connected with those days. + +But I had small wish to see others. John's mother was enough for me. +She and the peace that was coming to me on the Clyde. I could not +bear to think of London. I had no plans to make. All that was over. +All that part of my life, I thought, had ended with the news of my +boy's death. I wanted no more than to stay at home on the Clyde and +think of him. My wife and I did not even talk about the future. And +no thing was further from all my thoughts than that I should ever +step upon a stage again. + +What! Go out before an audience and seek to make it laugh? Sing my +songs when my heart was broken? I did not decide not to do it. I did +not so much as think of it as a thing I had to decide about. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +And then one thing and another brought the thought into my mind, so +that I had to face it and tell people how I felt about it. There were +neighbors, wanting to know when I would be about my work again. That +it was that first made me understand that others did not feel as I +was feeling. + +"They're thinking I'll be going back to work again," I told John's +mother. "I canna'!" + +She felt as I did. We could not see, either one of us, in our grief, +how anyone could think that I could begin again where I had left off. + +"I canna'! I will not try!" I told her, again and again. "How can I +tak up again with that old mummery? How can I laugh when my heart is +breaking, and make others smile when the tears are in my eyes?" + +And she thought as I did, that I could not, and that no one should be +asking me. The war had taken much of what I had earned, in one way or +another. I was not so rich as I had been, but there was enough. There +was no need for me to go back to work, so far as our living was +concerned. And so it seemed to be settled between us. Planning we +left for the future. It was no time for us to be making plans. It +mattered little enough to us what might be in store for us. We could +take things as they might come. + +So we bided quiet in our home, and talked of John. And from every +part of the earth and from people in all walks and conditions of life +there began to pour in upon us letters and telegrams of sympathy and +sorrow. I think there were four thousand kindly folk who remembered +us in our sorrow, and let us know that they could think of us in +spite of all the other care and trouble that filled the world in +those days. Many celebrated names were signed to those letters and +telegrams, and there were many, too, from simple folk whose very +names I did not know, who told me that I had given them cheer and +courage from the stage, and so they felt that they were friends of +mine, and must let me know that they were sorry for the blow that had +befallen me. + +Then it came out that I meant to leave the stage. They sent word from +London, at last, to ask when they might look for me to be back at the +Shaftesbury Theatre. And when they found what it was in my mind to do +all my friends began to plead with me and argue with me. They said it +was my duty to myself to go back. + +"You're too young a man to retire, Harry," they said. "What would you +do? How could you pass away your time if you had no work to do? Men +who retire at your age are always sorry: They wither away and die of +dry rot." + +"There'll be plenty for me to be doing," I told them. "I'll not be +idle." + +But still they argued. I was not greatly moved. They were thinking of +me, and their arguments appealed to my selfish interests and needs, +and just then I was not thinking very much about myself. + +And then another sort of argument came to me. People wrote to me, men +and women, who, like me, had lost their sons. Their letters brought +the tears to my eyes anew. They were tender letters, and beautiful +letters, most of them, and letters to make proud and glad, as well as +sad, the heart of the man to whom they were written. I will not copy +those letters down here, for they were written for my eyes, and for +no others. But I can tell you the message that they all bore. + +"Don't desert us now, Harry!" It was so that they put it, one after +another, in those letters. "Ah, Harry--there is so much woe and grief +and pain in the world that you, who can, must do all that is in your +power to make them easier to bear! There are few forces enough in the +world to-day to make us happy, even for a little space. Come back to +us, Harry--make us laugh again!" + +It was when those letters came that, for the first time, I saw that I +had others to consider beside myself, and that it was not only my own +wishes that I might take into account. I talked to my wife, and I told +her of those letters, and there were tears in both our eyes as we +thought about those folks who knew the sorrow that was in our hearts. + +"You must think about them, Harry," she said. + +And so I did think about them. And then I began to find that there +were others still about whom I must think. There were three hundred +people in the cast of "Three Cheers," at the Shaftesbury Theatre, in +London. And I began to hear now that unless I went back the show +would be closed, and all of them would be out of work. At that season +of the year, in the theatrical world, it would be hard for them to +find other engagements, and they were not, most of them, like me, +able to live without the salaries from the show. They wrote to me, +many of them, and begged me to come back. And I knew that it was a +desperate time for anyone to be without employment. I had to think +about those poor souls. And I could not bear the thought that I might +be the means, however innocent, of bringing hardship and suffering +upon others. It might not be my fault, and yet it would lie always +upon my conscience. + +Yet, even with all such thoughts and prayers to move me, I did not +see how I could yield to them and go back. Even after I had come to +the point of being willing to go back if I could, I did not think I +could go through with it. I was afraid I would break down if I tried +to play my part. I talked to Tom Valiance, my brother-in-law. + +"It's very well to talk, Tom," I said. "But they'd ring the curtain +down on me! I can never do it!" + +"You must!" he said. "Harry, you must go back! It's your duty! What +would the boy be saying and having you do? Don't you remember, Harry? +John's last words to his men were--'Carry On!' That's what it is +they're asking you to do, too, Harry, and it's what John would have +wanted. It would be his wish." + +And I knew that he was right. Tom had found the one argument that +could really move me and make me see my duty as the others did. So I +gave in. I wired to the management that I would rejoin the cast of +"Three Cheers," and I took the train to London. And as I rode in the +train it seemed to me that the roar of the wheels made a refrain, and +I could hear them pounding out those two words, in my boy's voice: +"Carry On!" + +But how hard it was to face the thought of going before an audience +again! And especially in such circumstances. There were to be gayety +and life and light and sparkle all about me. There were to be +lassies, in their gay dresses, and the merriest music in London. And +my part was to be merry, too, and to make the great audience laugh +that I would see beyond the footlights. And I thought of the Merryman +in The Yeomen of the Guard, and that I must be a little like him, +though my cause for grief was different. + +But I had given my word, and though I longed, again and again, as I +rode toward London, and as the time drew near for my performance, to +back out, there was no way that I could do so. And Tom Valiance did +his best to cheer me and hearten me, and relieve my nervousness. I +have never been so nervous before. Not since I made my first +appearance before an audience have I been so near to stage fright. + +I would not see anyone that night, when I reached the theatre. I +stayed in my dressing-room, and Tom Valiance stayed with me, and kept +everyone who tried to speak with me away. There were good folk, and +kindly folk, friends of mine in the company, who wanted to shake my +hand and tell me how they felt for me, but he knew that it was better +for them not to see me yet, and he was my bodyguard. + +"It's no use, Tom," I said to him, again and again, after I was dressed +and in my make up. I was cold first, and then hot. And I trembled in +every limb. "They'll have to ring the curtain down on me." + +"You'll be all right, Harry," he said. "So soon as you're out there! +Remember, they're all your friends!" + +But he could not comfort me. I felt sure that it was a foolish thing +for me to try to do; that I could not go through with it. And I was +sorry, for the thousandth time, that I had let them persuade me to +make the effort. + +A call boy came at last to warn me that it was nearly time for my +first entrance. I went with Tom into the wings, and stood there, +waiting. I was pale under my make up, and I was shaking and trembling +like a baby. And even then I wanted to cry off. But I remembered my +boy, and those last words of his--"Carry On!" I must not fail him +without at least trying to do what he would have wanted me to do! + +My entrance was with a lilting little song called "I Love My Jean." +And I knew that in a moment my cue would be given, and I would hear +the music of that song beginning. I was as cold as if I had been in +an icy street, although it was hot. I thought of the two thousand +people who were waiting for me beyond the footlights--the house was a +big one, and it was packed full that night. + +"I can't, Tom--I can't!" I cried. + +But he only smiled, and gave me a little push as my cue came and the +music began. I could scarcely hear it; it was like music a great +distance off, coming very faintly to my ears. And I said a prayer, +inside. I asked God to be good to me once more, and to give me +strength, and to bear me through this ordeal that I was facing, as he +had borne me through before. And then I had to step into the full +glare of the great lights. + +I felt as if I were in a dream. The people were unreal--stretching +away from me in long, sloping rows, their white faces staring at me +from the darkness beyond the great lights. And there was a little +ripple that ran through them as I went out, as if a great many +people, all at the same moment, had caught their breath. + +I stood and faced them, and the music sounded in my ears. For just a +moment they were still. And then they were shaken by a mighty roar. +They cheered and cheered and cheered. They stood up and waved to me. +I could hear their voices rising, and cries coming to me, with my own +name among them. + +"Bravo, Harry!" I heard them call. And then there were more cheers, +and a great clapping of hands. And I have been told that everywhere +in that great audience men and women were crying, and that the tears +were rolling down their cheeks without ever an attempt by any of them +to hide them or to check them. It was the most wonderful and the most +beautiful demonstration I have ever seen, in all the years that I +have been upon the stage. Many and many a time audiences have been +good to me. They have clapped me and they have cheered me, but never +has an audience treated me as that one did. I had to use every bit of +strength and courage that I had to keep from breaking down. + +To this day I do not know how I got through with that first song that +night. I do not even know whether I really sang it. But I think that, +somehow, blindly, without knowing what I was doing, I did get +through; I did sing it to the end. Habit, the way that I was used to +it, I suppose, helped me to carry on. And when I left the stage the +whole company, it seemed to me, was waiting for me. They were crying +and laughing, hysterically, and they crowded around me, and kissed +me, and hugged me, and wrung my hand. + +It seemed that the worst of my ordeal was over. But in the last act I +had to face another test. + +There was a song for me in that last act that was the great song in +London that season. I have sung it all over America since then "The +Laddies Who Fought and Won." It has been successful everywhere--that +song has been one of the most popular I have ever sung. But it was a +cruel song for me to sing that night! + +It was the climax of the last act and of the whole piece. In "Three +Cheers" soldiers were brought on each night to be on the stage behind +me when I sang that song. They were from the battalion of the Scots +Guards in London, and they were real soldiers, in uniform. Different +men were used each night, and the money that was paid to the Tommies +for their work went into the company fund of the men who appeared, +and helped to provide them with comforts and luxuries. And the war +office was glad of the arrangement, too, for it was a great song to +stimulate recruiting. + +There were two lines in the refrain that I shall never forget. And it +was when I came to those two lines that night that I did, indeed, +break down. Here they are: + + "When we all gather round the old fireside + And the fond mother kisses her son--" + +Were they not cruel words for me to have to sing, who knew that his +mother could never kiss my son again? They brought it all back to me! +My son was gone--he would never come back with the laddies who had +fought and won! + +For a moment I could not go on. I was choking. The tears were in my +Eyes, and my throat was choked with sobs. But the music went on, and +the chorus took up the song, and between the singers and the orchestra +they covered the break my emotion had made. And in a little space I was +able to go on with the next verse, and to carry on until my part in the +show was done for the night. But I still wondered how it was that they +had not had to ring down the curtain upon me, and that Tom Valiance and +the others had been right and I the one that was wrong! + +Ah, weel, I learned that night what many and many another Briton had +learned, both at home and in France--that you can never know what you +can do until you have to find it out! Yon was the hardest task ever I +had to undertake, but for my boy's sake, and because they had made me +understand that it was what he would have wanted me to do, I got +through with it. + +They rose to me again, and cheered and cheered, after I had finished +singing "The Laddies Who Fought and Won." And there were those who +called to me for a speech, but so much I had to deny them, good +though they had been to me, and much as I loved them for the way they +had received me. I had no words that night to thank them, and I could +not have spoken from that stage had my life depended upon it. I could +only get through, after my poor fashion, with my part in the show. + +But the next night I did pull myself together, and I was able to say +a few words to the audience--thanks that were simply and badly put, +it may be, but that came from the bottom of my overflowing heart. + + + +CHAPTER X + +I had not believed it possible. But there I was, not only back at +work, back upon the stage to which I thought I had said good-by +forever, but successful as I had thought I could never be again. And +so I decided that I would remain until the engagement of "Three +Cheers" closed. But my mind was made up to retire after that +engagement. I felt that I had done all I could, and that it was time +for me to retire, and to cease trying to make others laugh. There was +no laughter in my heart, and often and often, that season, as I +cracked my merriest jokes, my heart was sore and heavy and the tears +were in my eyes. + +But slowly a new sort of courage came to me. I was able to meet my +friends again, and to talk to them, of myself and of my boy. I met +brother officers of his, and I heard tales of him that gave me a new +and even greater pride in him than I had known before. And my friends +begged me to carry on in every way. + +"You were doing a great work and a good work, Harry," they said. "The +boy would want you to carry on. Do not drop all the good you were doing." + +I knew that they were right. To sit alone and give way to my grief +was a selfish thing to do at such a time. If there was work for me to +do, still, it was my duty to try to do it, no matter how greatly I +would have preferred to rest quiet. At this time there was great need +of making the people of Britain understand the need of food +conservation, and so I began to go about London, making speeches on +that subject wherever people could be gathered together to listen to +me. They told me I did some good. And at least, I tried. + +And before long I was glad, indeed, that I had listened to the +counsel of my friends and had not given way to my selfish desire to +nurse my grief in solitude and silence. For I realized that there was +a real work for me to do. Those folk who had begged me to do my part +in lightening the gloom of Britain had been right. There was so much +sorrow and grief in the land that it was the duty of all who could +dispel it, if even for a little space, to do what they could. I +remembered that poem of Ella Wheeler Wilcox--"Laugh and the World +Laughs With You!" And so I tried to laugh, and to make the part of +the world that I chanced to be in laugh with me. For I knew there was +weeping and sorrowing enough. + +And all the time I felt that the spirit of my boy was with me, and +that he knew what I was doing, and why, and was glad, and that he +understood that if I laughed it was not because I thought less often +of him, or missed him less keenly and bitterly than I had done from +the very beginning. + +There was much praise for my work from high officials, and it made me +proud and glad to know that the men who were at the head of Britain's +effort in the war thought I was being of use. One time I spoke with +Mr. Balfour, the former Prime Minister, at Drury Lane Theatre to one +of the greatest war gatherings that was ever held in London. + +And always and everywhere there were the hospitals, full of the +laddies who had been brought home from France. Ah, but they were +pitiful, those laddies who had fought, and won, and been brought back +to be nursed back to the life they had been so bravely willing to lay +down for their country! But it was hard to look at them, and know how +they were suffering, and to go through with the task I had set myself +of cheering them and comforting them in my own way! There were times +when it was all I could do to get through with my program. + +They never complained. They were always bright and cheerful, no +matter how terrible their wounds might be; no matter what sacrifices +they had made of eyes and limbs. There were men in those hospitals +who knew that they were going out no more than half the men they had +been. And yet they were as brave and careless of themselves as if +their wounds had been but trifles. I think the greatest exhibition of +courage and nerve the world has ever seen was to be found in those +hospitals in London and, indeed, all over Britain, where those +wonderful lads kept up their spirits always, though they knew they +could never again be sound in body. + +Many and many of them there were who knew that they could never walk +again the shady lanes of their hameland or the little streets of +their hame towns! Many and many more there were who knew that, even +after the bandages were taken from about their eyes, they would never +gaze again upon the trees and the grass and the flowers growing upon +their native hillsides; that never again could they look upon the +faces of their loved ones. They knew that everlasting darkness was +their portion upon this earth. + +But one and all they talked and laughed and sang! And it was there +among the hospitals, that I came to find true courage and good cheer. +It was not there that I found talk of discouragement, and longing for +any early peace, even though the final victory that could alone bring +a real peace and a worthy peace had not been won. No--not in the +hospitals could I find and hear such talk as that! For that I had to +listen to those who had not gone--who had not had the courage and the +nerve to offer all they had and all they were and go through that +hell of hells that is modern war! + +I saw other hospitals besides the ones in London. After a time, when +I was very tired, and far from well, I went to Scotland for a space +to build myself up and get some rest. And in the far north I went +fishing on the River Dee, which runs through the Durrie estate. And +while I was there the Laird heard of it. And he sent word to tell me +of a tiny hospital hard by where a guid lady named Mrs. Baird was +helping to nurse disabled men back to health and strength. He asked +me would I no call upon the men and try to give them a little cheer. +And I was glad to hear of the chance to help. + +I laid down my rod forthwith, for here was better work than fishing-- +and in my ain country. They told me the way that I should go, and +that this Mrs. Baird had turned a little school house into a +convalescent home, and was doing a fine and wonderful work for the +laddies she had taken in. So I set out to find it, and I walked along +a country road to come to it. + +Soon I saw a man, strong and hale, as it seemed, pushing a wheel +chair along the road toward me. And in the chair sat a man, and I +could see at once that he had lost the use of his legs--that he was +paralyzed from the waist down. It was the way he called to him who +was pushing him that made me tak notice. + +"Go to the right, mon!" he would call. Or, a moment later, "To the +left now." + +And then they came near to the disaster. The one who was pushing was +heading straight for the side of the road, and the one in the chair +bellowed out to him: + +"Whoa there!" he called. "Mon--ye're taking me into the ditch! Where +would ye be going with me, anyway?" + +And then I understood. The man who was pushing was blind! They had +but the one pair of eyes and the one pair of legs between the two of +them, and it was so that they contrived to go out together without +taking help from anyone else! And they were both as cheerful as wee +laddies out for a lark. It was great sport for them. And it was they +who gave me my directions to get to Mrs. Baird's. + +They disputed a little about the way. The blind man, puir laddie, +thought he knew. And he did not--not quite. But he corrected the man +who could see but could not walk. + +"It's the wrong road you're giving the gentleman," he said. "It's the +second turn he should be taking, not the first." + +And the other would not argue with him. It was a kindly thing, the +way he kept quiet, and did but wink at me, that I might know the +truth. He trusted me to understand and to know why he was acting as +he was, and I blessed him in my heart for his thoughtfulness. And so +I thanked them, and passed on, and reached Mrs. Baird's, and found a +royal welcome there, and when they asked me if I would sing for the +soldiers, and I said it was for that that I had come, there were +tears in Mrs. Baird's eyes. And so I gave a wee concert there, and +sang my songs, and did my best to cheer up those boys. + +Ah, my puir, brave Scotland--my bonnie little Scotland! + +No part of all the United Kingdom, and, for that matter, no part of +the world, has played a greater part, in proportion to its size and +its ability, than has Scotland in this war for humanity against the +black force that has attacked it. Nearly a million men has Scotland +sent to the army--out of a total population of five million! One in +five of all her people have gone. No country in the world has ever +matched that record. Ah, there were no slackers in Scotland! And they +are still going--they are still going! As fast as they are old +enough, as fast as restrictions are removed, so that men are taken +who were turned back at first by the recruiting officers, as fast as +men see to it that some provision is made for those they must leave +behind them, they are putting on the King's uniform and going out +against the Hun. My country, my ain Scotland, is not great in area. +It is not a rich country in worldly goods or money. But it is big +with a bigness beyond measurement, it is rich beyond the wildest +dreams of avarice, in patriotism, in love of country, and in bravery. + +We have few young men left in Scotland. It is rarely indeed that in a +Scottish village, in a glen, even in a city, you see a young man in +these days. Only the very old are left, and the men of middle age. +And you know why the young men you see are there. They cannot go, +because, although their spirit is willing their flesh is too weak to +let them go, for one reason or another. Factory and field and forge-- +all have been stripped to fill the Scottish regiments and keep them +at their full strength. And in Scotland, as in England, women have +stepped in to fill the places their men have left vacant. This war is +not to be fought by men alone. Women have their part to play, and +they are playing it nobly, day after day. The women of Scotland have +seen their duty; they have heard their country's call, and they have +answered it. + +You will find it hard to discover anyone in domestic service to-day +in Scotland. The folk who used to keep servants sent them packing +long since, to work where they would be of more use to their country. +The women of each household are doing the work about the house, +little though they may have been accustomed to such tasks in the days +of peace. And they glory and take pride in the knowledge that they +are helping to fill a place in the munitions factories or in some +other necessary war work. + +[ILLUSTRATION: "Bang! went sixpence." HARRY LAUDER BUYING HIS BIT OF +WHITE HEATHER (See Lauder04.jpg)] + +Do not look along the Scottish roads for folk riding in motor cars +for pleasure. Indeed, you will waste your time if you look for +pleasure-making of any sort in Scotland to-day. Scotland has gone +back to her ancient business of war, and she is carrying it on in the +most businesslike way, sternly and relentlessly. But that is true all +over the United Kingdom; I do not claim that Scotland takes the war +more seriously than the rest of Britain. But I do think that she has +set an example by the way she has flung herself, tooth and nail, into +the mighty task that confronts us all--all of us allies who are +leagued against the Hun and his plan to conquer the world and make it +bow its neck in submission under his iron heel. + +Let me tell you how Scotland takes this war. Let me show you the +homecoming of a Scottish soldier, back from the trenches on leave. +Why, he is received with no more ceremony than if he were coming home +from his day's work! + +Donald--or Jock might be his name, or Andy!--steps from the train at +his old hame town. He is fresh from the mud of the Flanders trenches, +and all his possessions and his kit are on his back, so that he is +more like a beast of burden than the natty creature old tradition +taught us to think a soldier must always be. On his boots there are +still dried blobs of mud from some hole in France that is like a +crater in hell. His uniform will be pretty sure to be dirty, too, and +torn, and perhaps, if you looked closely at it, you would see stains +upon it that you might not be far wrong in guessing to be blood. + +Leave long enough to let him come home to Scotland--a long road it is +from France to Scotland these days!--has been a rare thing for Jock. +He will have been campaigning a long time to earn it--months +certainly, and maybe even years. Perhaps he was one of these who went +out first. He may have been mentioned in dispatches: there may be a +distinguished conduct medal hidden about him somewhere--worth all the +iron crosses the Kaiser ever gave! He has seen many a bloody field, +be sure of that. He has heard the sounding of the gas alarm, and +maybe got a whiff of the dirty poison gas the Huns turned loose +against our boys. He has looked Death in the face so often that he +has grown used to him. But now he is back in Scotland, safe and +sound, free from battle and the work of the trenches for a space, +home to gain new strength for his next bout with Fritz across the +water. + +When he gets off the train Jock looks about him, from force of habit. +But no one has come to the station to meet him, and he looks as if +that gave him neither surprise nor concern. For a minute, perhaps, he +will look around him, wondering, I think, that things are so much as +they were, fixing in his mind the old familiar scenes that have +brought him cheer so often in black, deadly nights in the trenches or +in lonely billets out there in France. And then, quietly, and as if +he were indeed just home from some short trip, he shifts his pack, so +that it lies comfortably across his back, and trudges off. There +would be cabs around the station, but it would not come into Jock's +mind to hail one of the drivers. He has been used to using Shank's +Mare in France when he wanted to go anywhere, and so now he sets off +quietly, with his long, swinging soldier's stride. + +As he walks along he is among scenes familiar to him since his +boyhood. You house, you barn, yon wooded rise against the sky are +landmarks for him. And he is pretty sure to meet old friends. They +nod to him, pleasantly, and with a smile, but there is no excitement, +no strangeness, in their greeting. For all the emotion they show, +these folk to whom he has come back, as from the grave, they might +have seen him yesterday, and the day before that, and the war never +have been at all. And Jock thinks nothing of it that they are not +more excited about him. You and I may be thinking of Jock as a hero, +but that is not his idea about himself. He is just a Tommy, home on +leave from France--one of a hundred thousand, maybe. And if he +thought at all about the way his home folk greeted him it would be +just so--that he could not expect them to be making a fuss about one +soldier out of so many. And, since he, Jock, is not much excited, not +much worked up, because he is seeing these good folk again, he does +not think it strange that they are not more excited about the sight +of him. It would be if they did make a fuss over him, and welcome him +loudly, that he would think it strange! + +And at last he comes to his own old home. He will stop and look +around a bit. Maybe he has seen that old house a thousand times out +there, tried to remember every line and corner of it. And maybe, as +he looks down the quiet village street, he is thinking of how +different France was. And, deep down in his heart, Jock is glad that +everything is as it was, and that nothing has been changed. He could +not tell you why; he could not put his feeling into words. But it is +there, deep down, and the truer and the keener because it is so deep. +Ah, Jock may take it quietly, and there may be no way for him to show +his heart, but he is glad to be home! + +And at his gate will come, as a rule, Jock's first real greeting. A +dog, grown old since his departure, will come out, wagging his tail, +and licking the soldier's hand. And Jock will lean down, and give his +old dog a pat. If the dog had not come he would have been surprised +and disappointed. And so, glad with every fibre of his being, Jock +goes in, and finds father and mother and sisters within. They look up +at his coming, and their happiness shines for a moment in their eyes. +But they are not the sort of people to show their emotions or make a +fuss. Mother and girls will rise and kiss him, and begin to take his +gear, and his father will shake him by the hand. + +"Well," the father will ask, "how are you getting along, lad?" + +And--"All right," he will answer. That is the British soldier's +answer to that question, always and everywhere. + +Then he sits down, happy and at rest, and lights his pipe, maybe, and +looks about the old room which holds so many memories for him. And +supper will be ready, you may be sure. They will not have much to +say, these folk of Jock's, but if you look at his face as dish after +dish is set before him, you will understand that this is a feast that +has been prepared for him. They may have been going without all sorts +of good things themselves, but they have contrived, in some fashion, +to have them all for Jock. All Scotland has tightened its belt, and +done its part, in that fashion, as in every other, toward the winning +of the war. But for the soldiers the best is none too good. And +Jock's folk would rather make him welcome so, by proof that takes no +words, than by demonstrations of delight and of affection. + +As he eats, they gather round him at the board, and they tell him all +the gossip of the neighborhood. He does not talk about the war, and, +if they are curious--probably they are not!--they do not ask him +questions. They think that he wants to forget about the war and the +trenches and the mud, and they are right. And so, after he has eaten +his fill, he lights his pipe again, and sits about. And maybe, as it +grows dark, he takes a bit walk into town. He walks slowly, as if he +is glad that for once he need not be in a hurry, and he stops to look +into shop windows as if he had never seen their stocks before, though +you may be sure that, in a Scottish village, he has seen everything +they have to offer hundreds of times. + +He will meet friends, maybe, and they will stop and nod to him. And +perhaps one of six will stop longer. + +"How are you getting on, Jock?" will be the question. + +"All right!" Jock will say. And he will think the question rather +fatuous, maybe. If he were not all right, how should he be there? But +if Jock had lost both legs, or an arm, or if he had been blinded, +that would still be his answer. Those words have become a sort of +slogan for the British army, that typify its spirit. + +Jock's walk is soon over, and he goes home, by an old path that is +known to him, every foot of it, and goes to bed in his own old bed. +He has not broken into the routine of the household, and he sees no +reason why he should. And the next day it is much the same for him. +He gets up as early as he ever did, and he is likely to do a few odd +bits of work that his father has not had time to come to. He talks +with his mother and the girls of all sorts of little, commonplace +things, and with his father he discusses the affairs of the +community. And in the evening he strolls down town again, and +exchanges a few words with friends, and learns, perhaps, of boys who +haven't been lucky enough to get home on leave--of boys with whom he +grew up, who have gone west. + +So it goes on for several days, each day the same. Jock is quietly +happy. It is no task to entertain him: he does not want to be +entertained. The peace and quiet of home are enough for him; they are +change enough from the turmoil of the front and the ceaseless grind +of the life in the army in France. + +And then Jock's leave nears its end, and it is time for him to go +back. He tells them, and he makes his few small preparations. They +will have cleaned his kit for him, and mended some of his things that +needed mending. And when it is time for him to go they help him on +with his pack and he kisses his mother and the girls good-by, and +shakes hands with his father. + +"Well, good-by," Jock says. He might be going to work in a factory a +few miles off. "I'll be all right. Good-by, now. Don't you cry, now, +mother, and you, Jeannie and Maggie. Don't you fash yourselves about +me. I'll be back again. And if I shouldn't come back--why, I'll be +all right." + +So he goes, and they stand looking after him, and his old dog wonders +why he is going, and where, and makes a move to follow him, maybe. +But he marches off down the street, alone, never looking back, and is +waiting when the train comes. It will be full of other Jocks and +Andrews and Tams, on their way back to France, like him, and he will +nod to some he knows as he settles down in the carriage. + +And in just two days Jock will have traveled the length of England, +and crossed the channel, and ridden up to the front. He will have +reported himself, and have been ordered, with his company, into the +trenches. And on the third night, had you followed him, you might see +him peering over the parapet at the lines of the Hun, across No Man's +Land, and listening to the whine of bullets and the shriek of shells +over his head, with a star shell, maybe, to throw a green light upon +him for a moment. + +So it is that a warrior comes and that a warrior goes in a land where +war is war; in a land where war has become the business of all every +day, and has settled down into a matter of routine. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +I could not, much as I should in many ways have liked to do so, +prolong my stay in Scotland. The peace and the restfulness of the +Highlands, the charm of the heather and the hills, the long, lazy +days with my rod, whipping some favorite stream--ah, they made me +happy for a moment, but they could not make me forget! My duty called +me back, and the thought of war, and suffering, and there were +moments when it seemed to me that nothing could keep me from plunging +again into the work I had set out to do. + +In those days I was far too restless to be taking my ease at home, in +my wee hoose at Dunoon. A thousand activities called me. The rest had +been necessary; I had had to admit that, and to obey my doctor, for I +had been feeling the strain of my long continued activity, piled up, +as it was, on top of my grief and care. And yet I was eager to be off +and about my work again. + +I did not want to go back to the same work I had been doing. No! I +was still a young man. I was younger than men and officers who were +taking their turn in the trenches. I was but forty-six years old, and +there was a lot of life and snap in the old dog yet! My life had been +rightly lived. As a young man I had worked in a pit, ye ken, and that +had given me a strength in my back and my legs that would have served +me well in the trenches. War, these days, means hard work as well as +fighting--more, indeed. War is a business, a great industry, now. +There is all manner of work that must be done at the front and right +behind it. Aye, and I was eager to be there and to be doing my share +of it--and not for the first time. + +Many a time, and often, I had broached my idea of being allowed to +enlist, e'en before the Huns killed my boy. But they would no listen +to me. They told me, each time, that there was more and better work +for me to do at hame in Britain, spurring others on, cheering them +when they came back maimed and broken, getting the country to put its +shoulder to the wheel when it came to subscribing to the war loans +and all the rest of it. And it seemed to me that it was not for me to +decide; that I must obey those who were better in a position to judge +than I could be. + +I went down south to England, and I talked again of enlisting and +trying to get a crack at those who had killed my boy. And again my +friends refused to listen to me. + +"Why, Harry," they said to me--and not my own friends, only, but men +highly placed enough to make me know that I must pay heed to what +they said--"you must not think of it! If you enlisted, or if we got +you a commission, you'd be but one man out there. Here you're worth +many men--a brigade, or a division, maybe. You are more use to us +than many men who go out there to fight. You do great things toward +winning the war every day. No, Harry, there is work for every man in +Britain to do, and you have found yours and are doing it." + +I was not content, though, even when I seemed to agree with them. I +did try to argue, but it was no use. And still I felt that it was no +time for a man to be playing and to be giving so much of his time to +making others gay. It was well for folk to laugh, and to get their +minds off the horror of war for a little time. Well I knew! Aye, and +I believed that I was doing good, some good at least, and giving +cheer to some puir laddies who needed it sorely. But--weel, it was no +what I wanted to be doing when my country was fighting for her life! +I made up my mind, slowly, what it was that I wanted to do that would +fit in with the ideas and wishes of those whose word I was bound to +heed and that would still come closer than what I was doing to meet +my own desires. + +Every day, nearly, then, I was getting letters from the front. They +came from laddies whom I'd helped to make up their minds that they +belonged over yon, where the men were. Some were from boys who came +from aboot Dunoon. I'd known those laddies since they were bits o' +bairns, most of them. And then there were letters--and they touched +me as much and came as close home as any of them--from boys who were +utter strangers to me, but who told me they felt they knew me because +they'd seen me on the stage, or because their phonograph, maybe, +played some of my records, and because they'd read that my boy had +shared their dangers and given his life, as they were ready, one and +all, to do. + +And those letters, nearly all, had the same refrain. They wanted me. +They wanted me to come to them, since they couldn't be coming to me. + +"Come on out here and see us and sing for us, Harry," they'd write to +me. "It'd be a fair treat to see your mug and hear you singing about +the wee hoose amang the heather or the bonnie, bonnie lassie!" + +How could a man get such a plea as that and not want to do what those +laddies asked? How could he think of the great deal they were doing +and not want to do the little bit they asked of him? But it was no a +simple matter, ye'll ken! I could not pack a bag and start for France +from Charing Cross or Victoria as I might have done--and often did-- +before the war. No one might go to France unless he had passports and +leave from the war office, and many another sort of arrangement there +was to make. But I set wheels in motion. + +Just to go to France to sing for the boys would have been easy +enough. They told me that at once. + +"What? Harry Lauder wants to go to France to sing for the soldiers? +He shall--whenever he pleases! Tell him we'll be glad to send him!" + +So said the war office. But I knew what they meant. They meant for me +to go to one or more of the British bases and give concerts. There +were troops moving in and out of the bases all the time; men who'd +been in the trenches or in action in an offensive and were back in +rest billets, or even further back, were there in their thousands. +But it was the real front I was eager to reach. I wanted to be where +my boy had been, and to see his grave. I wanted to sing for the +laddies who were bearing the brunt of the big job over there--while +they were bearing it. + +And that no one had done. Many of our leading actors and singers and +other entertainers were going back and forth to France all the time. +Never a week went by but they were helping to cheer up the boys at +the bases. It was a grand work they were doing, and the boys were +grateful to them, and all Britain should share that gratitude. But it +was a wee bit more that I wanted to be doing, and there was the rub. + +I wanted to go up to the battle lines themselves and to sing for the +boys who were in the thick of the struggle with the Hun. I wanted to +give a concert in a front-line trench where the Huns could hear me, +if they cared to listen. I wanted them to learn once more the lesson +we could never teach them often enough--the lesson of the spirit of +the British army, that could go into battle with a laugh on its lips. + +But at first I got no encouragement at all when I told what it was in +my mind to do. My friends who had influence shook their heads. + +"I'm afraid it can't be managed, Harry," they told me. "It's never +been done." + +I told them what I believed myself, and what I have often thought of +when things looked hard and prospects were dark. I told them +everything had to be done for the first time sometime, and I begged +them not to give up the effort to win my way for me. And so I knew +that when they told me no one had done it before it wasn't reason +enough why I shouldn't do it. And I made up my mind that I would be +the pioneer in giving concerts under fire if that should turn out to +be a part of the contract. + +But I could not argue. I could only say what it was that I wanted to +do, and wait the pleasure of those whose duty it was to decide. I +couldn't tell the military authorities where they must send me. It +was for me to obey when they gave their orders, and to go wherever +they thought I would do the most good. I would not have you thinking +that I was naming conditions, and saying I would go where I pleased +or bide at hame! That was not my way. All I could do was to hope that +in the end they would see matters as I did and so decide to let me +have my way. But I was ready for my orders, whatever they might be. + +There was one thing I wanted, above all others, to do when I got to +France, and so much I said. I wanted to meet the Highland Brigade, +and see the bonnie laddies in their kilts as the Huns saw them--the +Huns, who called them the Ladies from Hell, and hated them worse than +they hated any troops in the whole British army. + +Ha' ye heard the tale of the Scotsman and the Jew? Sandy and Ikey +they were, and they were having a disputatious argument together. +Each said he could name more great men of his race who were famous in +history than the other could. And they argued, and nearly came to +blows, and were no further along until they thought of making a bet. +An odd bet it was. For each great name that Sandy named of a Scot +whom history had honored he was to pull out one of Ikey's hairs, and +Ikey was to have the same privilege. + +"Do ye begin!" said Sandy. + +"Moses!" said They, and pulled. + +"Bobbie Burns!" cried Sandy, and returned the compliment. + +"Abraham!" said Ikey, and pulled again. "Ouch--Duggie Haig!" said +Sandy. + +And then Ikey grabbed a handful of hairs at once. + +"Joseph and his brethren!" he said, gloating a bit as he watched the +tears starting from Sandy's eyes at the pain of losing so many good +hairs at once. + +"So it's pulling them out in bunches ye are!" said Sandy. "Ah, well, +man" And he reached with both his hands for Ikey's thatch. + +"The Hieland Brigade!" he roared, and pulled all the hairs his two +hands would hold! + +Ah, weel, there are sad thoughts that come to me, as well as proud +and happy ones, when I think of the bonnie kilted laddies who fought +and died so nobly out there against the Hun! They were my own +laddies, those, and it was with them and amang them that my boy went +to his death. It was amang them I would find, I thought, those who +could tell me more than I knew of how he had died, and of how he had +lived before he died. And I thought the boys of the brigade would be +glad to see me and to hear my songs--songs of their hames and their +ain land, auld Scotland. And so I used what influence I had, and did +not think it wrong to employ at such a time, and in such a cause. For +I knew that if they sent me to the Hieland Brigade they would be +sending me to the front of the front line--for that was where I would +have to go seeking the Hieland laddies! + +I waited as patiently as I could. And then one day I got my orders! I +was delighted, for the thing they had told me could not be done had +actually been arranged for me. I was asked to get ready to go to +France to entertain the soldiers, and it was the happiest day I had +known since I had heard of my boy's death. + +There was not much for me to do in the way of making ready. The whole +trip, of course, would be a military one. I might be setting out as a +minstrel for France, but every detail of my arrangements had to be +made in accordance with military rules, and once I reached France I +would be under the orders of the army in every movement I might make. +All that was carefully explained to me. + +But still there were things for me to think about and to arrange. I +wanted some sort of accompaniment for my songs, and how to get it +puzzled me for a time. But there was a firm in London that made +pianos that heard of my coming trip, and solved that problem for me. +They built, and they presented to me, the weest piano ever you saw--a +piano so wee that it could be carried in an ordinary motor car. Only +five octaves it had, but it was big enough, and sma' enough at once. +I was delighted with it, and so were all who saw it. It weighed only +about a hundred and fifty pounds--less than even a middling stout +man! And it was cunningly built, so that no space at all was wasted. +Mrs. Lauder, when she saw it, called it cute, and so did every other +woman who laid eyes upon it. It was designed to be carried on the +grid of a motor car--and so it was, for many miles of shell-torn +roads! + +When I was sure of my piano I thought of another thing it would be +well for me to take with me. And so I spent a hundred pounds--five +hundred American dollars--for cigarettes. I knew they would be welcome +everywhere I went. It makes no matter how many cigarettes we send to +France, there will never be enough. My friends thought I was making a +mistake in taking so many; they were afraid they would make matters +hard when it came to transportation, and reminded me that I faced +difficulties in that respect in France it was nearly impossible for us +at home in Britain to visualize at all. But I had my mind and my heart +set on getting those fags--a cigarette is a fag to every British +soldier--to my destination with me. Indeed, I thought they would mean +more to the laddies out there than I could hope to do myself! + +I was not to travel alone. My tour was to include two traveling +companions of distinction and fame. One was James Hogge, M.P., member +from East Edinburgh, who was eager, as so many members of Parliament +were, to see for himself how things were at the front. James Hogge +was one of the members most liked by the soldiers. He had worked hard +for them, and gained--and well earned--much fame by the way he +struggled with the matter of getting the right sort of pensions for +the laddies who were offering their lives. + +The other distinguished companion I was to have was an old and good +friend of mine, the Reverend George Adam, then a secretary to the +Minister of Munitions. He lived in Ilford, a suburb of London, then, +but is now in Montreal, Canada. I was glad of the opportunity to travel +with both these men, for I knew that one's traveling companions, on +such a tour, were of the utmost importance in determining its success +or failure, and I could not have chosen a better pair, had the choice +been left to me--which, of course, it was not. + +There we were, you see--the Reverend George Adam, Harry Lauder and +James Hogge, M.P. And no sooner did the soldiers hear of the +combination than our tour was named "The Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., +Tour" was what we were called! And that absurd name stuck to us +through our whole journey, in France, up and down the battle line, +and until we came home to England and broke up! + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Up to that time I had thought I knew a good deal about the war. I had +had much news from my boy. I had talked, I think, to as many returned +soldiers as any man in Britain. I had seen much of the backwash and +the wretched aftermath of war. Ah, yes, I thought I knew more than +most folk did of what war meant! But until my tour began, as I see +now, easily enough, I knew nothing--literally nothing at all! + +There are towns and ports in Britain that are military areas. One may +not enter them except upon business, the urgency of which has been +established to the satisfaction of the military authorities. One must +have a permit to live in them, even if they be one's home town. These +towns are vital to the war and its successful prosecution. + +Until one has seen a British port of embarkation in this war one has +no real beginning, even, of a conception of the task the war has +imposed upon Britain. It was so with me, I know, and since then other +men have told me the same thing. There the army begins to pour into +the funnel, so to speak, that leads to France and the front. There +all sorts of lines are brought together, all sorts of scattered +activities come to a focus. There is incessant activity, day and +night. + +It was from Folkestone, on the southeast coast, that the Reverend +Harry Lauder, M.P. Tour was to embark. And we reached Folkestone on +June 7, 1917. + +Folkestone, in time of peace, was one of the greatest of the Southern +watering places. It is a lovely spot. Great hotels line the Leas, a +glorious promenade, along the top of chalk cliffs, that looks out +over the Channel. In the distance one fancies one may see the coast +of France, beyond the blue water. + +There is green grass everywhere behind the beach. Folkestone has a +miniature harbor, that in time of peace gave shelter to the fishing +fleet and to the channel steamers that plied to and from Boulogne, in +France. The harbor is guarded by stone jetties. It has been greatly +enlarged now--so has all Folkestone, for that matter. But I am +remembering the town as it was in peace! + +There was no pleasanter and kindlier resort along that coast. The +beach was wonderful, and all summer long it attracted bathers and +children at play. Bathing machines lined the beach, of course, within +the limits of the town; those queer, old, clumsy looking wagons, with +a dressing cabin on wheels, that were drawn up and down according to +the tide, so that bathers might enter the water from them directly. +There, as in most British towns, women bathed at one part of the +beach, men at the other, and all in the most decorous and modest of +costumes. + +But at Folkestone, in the old days of peace, about a mile from the +town limits, there was another stretch of beach where all the gay +folk bathed--men and women together. And there the costumes were such +as might be seen at Deauville or Ostend, Etretat or Trouville. Highly +they scandalized the good folk of Folkestone, to be sure--but little +was said, and nothing was done, for, after all those were the folk +who spent the money! They dressed in white tents that gleamed against +the sea, and a pretty splash of color they made on a bright day for +the soberer folk to go and watch, as they sat on the low chalk cliffs +above them! + +Gone--gone! Such days have passed for Folkestone! They will no doubt +come again--but when? When? + +June the seventh! Folkestone should have been gay for the beginning +of the onset of summer visitors. Sea bathing should just have been +beginning to be attractive, as the sun warmed the sea and the beach. +But when we reached the town war was over all. Men in uniform were +everywhere. Warships lay outside the harbor. Khaki and guns, men +trudging along, bearing the burdens of war, motor trucks, rushing +ponderously along, carrying ammunition and food, messengers on +motorcycles, sounding to all traffic that might be in the way the +clamorous summons to clear the path--those were the sights we saw! + +How hopelessly confused it all seemed! I could not believe that there +was order in the chaos that I saw. But that was because the key to +all that bewildering activity was not in my possession. + +Every man had his appointed task. He was a cog in the greatest +machine the world has ever seen. He knew just what he was to do, and +how much time had been allowed for the performance of his task. It +was assumed he would not fail. The British army makes that +assumption, and it is warranted. + +I hear praise, even from men who hate the Hun as I hate him, for the +superb military organization of the German army. They say the +Kaiser's people may well take pride in that. But I say that I am +prouder of what Britain and the new British army that has come into +being since this war began have done than any German has a right to +be! They spent forty-four years in making ready for a war they knew +they meant, some day, to fight. We had not had, that day that I first +saw our machine really functioning, as many months for preparation as +they had had years. And yet we were doing our part. + +We had had to build and prepare while we helped our ally, France, to +hold off that gray horde that had swept down so treacherously through +Belgium from the north and east. It was as if we had organized and +trained and equipped a fire brigade while the fire was burning, and +while our first devoted fighters sought to keep it in check with +water buckets. And they did! They did! The water buckets served while +the hose was made, and the mains were laid, and the hydrants set in +place, and the trained firemen were made ready to take up the task. + +And, now that I had come to Folkestone, now that I was seeing the +results of all the labor that had been performed, the effect of all +the prodigies of organization, I began to know what Lord Kitchener +and those who had worked with him had done. System ruled everything +at Folkestone. Nothing, it seemed to me, as officers explained as +much as they properly could, had been left to chance. Here was order +indeed. + +In the air above us airplanes flew to and fro. They circled about +like great, watchful hawks. They looped and whirled around, cutting +this way and that, circling always. And I knew that, as they flew +about outside the harbor the men in them were never off their guard; +that they were peering down, watching every moment for the first +trace of a submarine that might have crept through the more remote +defenses of the Channel. Let a submarine appear--its shrift would be +short indeed! + +There, above, waited the airplanes. And on the surface of the sea +sinister destroyers darted about as watchful as the flyers above, +ready for any emergency that might arise. I have no doubt that +submarines of our own lurked below, waiting, too, to do their part. +But those, if any there were, I did not see. And one asks no +questions at a place like Folkestone. I was glad of any information +an officer might voluntarily give me. But it was not for me or any +other loyal Briton to put him in the position of having to refuse to +answer. + +Soon a great transport was pointed out to me, lying beside the jetty. +Gangplanks were down, and up them streams of men in khaki moved +endlessly. Up they went, in an endless brown river, to disappear into +the ship. The whole ship was a very hive of activity. Not only men +were going aboard, but supplies of every sort; boxes of ammunition, +stores, food. And I understood, and was presently to see, that beyond +her sides there was the same ordered scene as prevailed on shore. +Every man knew his task; the stowing away of everything that was +being carried aboard was being carried out systematically and with +the utmost possible economy of time and effort. + +"That's the ship you will cross the Channel on," I was told. And I +regarded her with a new interest. I do not know what part she had +been wont to play in time of peace; what useful, pleasant journeys it +had been her part to complete, I only knew that she was to carry me +to France, and to the place where my heart was and for a long time +had been. Me--and two thousand men who were to be of real use over +there! + +We were nearly the last to go on board. We found the decks swarming +with men. Ah, the braw laddies! They smoked and they laughed as they +settled themselves for the trip. Never a one looked as though he +might be sorry to be there. They were leaving behind them all the +good things, all the pleasant things, of life as, in time of peace, +every one of them had learned to live it and to know it. Long, long +since had the last illusion faded of the old days when war had seemed +a thing of pomp and circumstance and glory. + +They knew well, those boys, what it was they faced. Hard, grinding +work they could look forward to doing; such work as few of them had +ever known in the old days. Death and wounds they could reckon upon +as the portion of just about so many of them. There would be bitter +cold, later, in the trenches, and mud, and standing for hours in icy +mud and water. There would be hard fare, and scanty, sometimes, when +things went wrong. There would be gas attacks, and the bursting of +shells about them with all sorts of poisons in them. Always there +would be the deadliest perils of these perilous days. + +But they sang as they set out upon the great adventure of their +lives. They smiled and laughed. They cheered me, so that the tears +started from my eyes, when they saw me, and they called the gayest of +gay greetings, though they knew that I was going only for a little +while, and that many of them had set foot on British soil for the +last time. The steady babble of their voices came to our ears, and +they swarmed below us like ants as they disposed themselves about the +decks, and made the most of the scanty space that was allowed for +them. The trip was to be short, of course; there were too few ships, +and the problems of convoy were too great, to make it possible to +make the voyage a comfortable one. It was a case of getting them over +as might best be arranged. + +A word of command rang out and was passed around by officers and non +coms. + +"Life belts must be put on before the ship sails!" + +That simple order brought home the grim facts of war at that moment as +scarcely anything else could have done. Here was a grim warning of the +peril that lurked outside. Everywhere men were scurrying to obey--I +among the rest. The order applied as much to us civilians as it did to +any of the soldiers. And my belt did not fit, and was hard, extremely +hard, for me to don. I could no manage it at all by myself, but Adam +and Hogge had had an easier time with theirs, and they came to my help. +Among us we got mine on, and Hogge stood off, and looked at me, +and smiled. + +"An extraordinary effect, Harry!" he said, with a smile. "I declare-- +it gives you the most charming embonpoint!" + +I had my doubts about his use of the word charming. I know that I +should not have cared to have anyone judge of my looks from a picture +taken as I looked then, had one been taken. + +But it was not a time for such thoughts. For a civilian, especially, +and one not used to journeys in such times as these, there is a +thrill and a solemnity about the donning of a life preserver. I felt +that I was indeed, it might be, taking a risk in making this journey, +and it was an awesome thought that I, too, might have seen my native +land for the last time, and said a real good-by to those whom I had +left behind me. + +Now we cast off, and began to move, and a thrill ran through me such +as I had never known before in all my life. I went to the rail as we +turned our nose toward the open sea. A destroyer was ahead, another +was beside us, others rode steadily along on either side. It was the +most reassuring of sights to see them. They looked so business like, +so capable. I could not imagine a Hun submarine as able to evade +their watchfulness. And moreover, there were the watchful man birds +above us, the circling airplanes, that could make out, so much better +than could any lookout on a ship, the first trace of the presence of +a tin fish. No--I was not afraid! I trusted in the British navy, +which had guarded the sea lane so well that not a man had lost his +life as the result of a Hun attack, although many millions had gone +back and forth to France since the beginning of the war. + +I did not stay with my own party. I preferred to move about among the +Soldiers. I was deeply interested in them, as I have always been. And +I wanted to make friends among them, and see how they felt. + +"Lor' lumme--its old 'Arry Lauder!" said one cockney. "God bless you, +'Arry--many's the time I've sung with you in the 'alls. It's good to +see you with us!" + +And so I was greeted everywhere. Man after man crowded around me to +shake hands. It brought a lump into my throat to be greeted so, and +it made me more than ever glad that the military authorities had been +able to see their way to grant my request. It confirmed my belief +that I was going where I might be really useful to the men who were +ready and willing to make the greatest of all sacrifices in the cause +so close to all our hearts. + +When I first went aboard the transport I picked up a little gold +stripe. It was one of those men wear who have been wounded, as a +badge of honor. I hoped I might be able to find the man who had lost +it, and return it to him. But none of them claimed it, and I have +kept it, to this day, as a souvenir of that voyage. + +It was easy for them to know me. I wore my kilt and my cap, and my +knife in my stocking, as I have always done, on the stage, and nearly +always off it as well. And so they recognized me without difficulty. +And never a one called me anything but Harry--except when it was +'Arry! I think I would be much affronted if ever a British soldier +called me Mr. Lauder. I don't know--because not one of them ever did, +and I hope none ever will! + +They told me that there were men from the Highlands on board, and I +went looking for them, and found them after a time, though going +about that ship, so crowded she was, was no easy matter. They were +Gordon Highlanders, mostly, I found, and they were glad to see me, +and made me welcome, and I had a pipe with them, and a good talk. + +Many of them were going back, after having been at home, recuperating +from wounds. And they and the new men too were all eager and anxious +to be put there and at work. + +"Gie us a chance at the Huns--it's all we're asking," said one of a +new draft. "They're telling us they don't like the sight of our +kilts, Harry, and that a Hun's got less stomach for the cold steel of +a bayonet than for anything else on earth. Weel--we're carrying a +dose of it for them!" + +And the men who had been out before, and were taking back with them +the scars they had earned, were just as anxious as the rest. That was +the spirit of every man on board. They did not like war as war, but +they knew that this was a war that must be fought to the finish, and +never a man of them wanted peace to come until Fritz had learned his +lesson to the bottom of Lie last grim page. + +I never heard a word of the danger of meeting a submarine. The idea +that one might send a torpedo after us popped into my mind once or +twice, but when it did I looked out at the destroyers, guarding us, +and the airplanes above, and I felt as safe as if I had been in bed +in my wee hoose at Dunoon. It was a true highway of war that those +whippets of the sea had made the Channel crossing. + +Ahm, but I was proud that day of the British navy! It is a great task +that it has performed, and nobly it has done it. And it was proud and +glad I was again when we sighted land, as we soon did, and I knew +that I was gazing, for the first time since war had been declared, +upon the shores of our great ally, France. It was the great day and +the proud day and the happy day for me! + +I was near the realizing of an old dream I had often had. I was with +the soldiers who had my love and my devotion, and I was coming to +France--the France that every Scotchman learns to love at his +mother's breast. + +A stir ran through the men. Orders began to fly, and I went back to +my place and my party. Soon we would be ashore, and I would be in the +way of beginning the work I had come to do. + +[ILLUSTRATION: Harry Lauder preserves the bonnet of his son, brought +to him from where the lad fell. "The memory of his boy, it is almost +his religion." (See Lauder05.jpg)] + +[ILLUSTRATION: A tatter of plaid of the Black Watch on a wire of a +German entanglement barely suggests the hell the Scotch troops have +gone through. (See Lauder06.jpg)] + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Boulogne! + +Like Folkestone, Boulogne, in happier times, had been a watering +place, less fashionable than some on the French coast, but the +pleasant resort of many in search of health and pleasure. And like +Folkestone it had suffered the blight of war. The war had laid its +heavy hand upon the port. It ruled everything; it was omnipresent. +From the moment when we came into full view of the harbor it was +impossible to think of anything else. + +Folkestone had made me think of the mouth of a great funnel, into +which all broad Britain had been pouring men and guns and all the +manifold supplies and stores of modern war. And the trip across the +narrow, well guarded lane in the Channel had been like the pouring of +water through the neck of that same funnel. Here in Boulogne was the +opening. Here the stream of men and sup-plies spread out to begin its +orderly, irresistible flow to the front. All of northern France and +Belgium lay before that stream; it had to cover all the great length +of the British front. Not from Boulogne alone, of course; I knew of +Dunkirk and Calais, and guessed at other ports. There were other +funnels, and into all of them, day after day, Britain was pouring her +tribute; through all of them she was offering her sacrifice, to be +laid upon the altar of strife. + +Here, much more than at Folkestone, as it chanced, I saw at once +another thing. There was a double funnel. The stream ran both ways. +For, as we steamed into Boulogne, a ship was coming out--a ship with +a grim and tragic burden. She was one of our hospital ships. But she +was guarded as carefully by destroyers and aircraft as our transport +had been. The Red Cross meant nothing to the Hun--except, perhaps, a +shining target. Ship after ship that bore that symbol of mercy and of +pain had been sunk. No longer did our navy dare to trust the Red +Cross. It took every precaution it could take to protect the poor +fellows who were going home to Blighty. + +As we made our way slowly in, through the crowded harbor, full of +transports, of ammunition ships, of food carriers, of destroyers and +small naval craft of all sorts, I began to be able to see more and +more of what was afoot ashore. It was near noon; the day that had +been chosen for my arrival in France was one of brilliant sunshine +and a cloudless sky. And my eyes were drawn to other hospital ships +that were waiting at the docks. Motor ambulances came dashing up, one +after the other, in what seemed to me to be an endless stream. The +pity of that sight! It was as if I could peer through the intervening +space and see the bandaged heads, the places where limbs had been, +the steadfast gaze of the boys who were being carried up in +stretchers. They had done their task, a great number of them; they +had given all that God would let them give to King and country. Life +was left to them, to be sure; most of these boys were sure to live. + +But to what maimed and incomplete lives were they doomed! The +thousands who would be cripples always--blind, some of them, and +helpless, dependent upon what others might choose or be able to do +for them. It was then, in that moment, that an idea was born, +vaguely, in my mind, of which I shall have much more to say later. + +There was beauty in that harbor of Boulogne. The sun gleamed against +the chalk cliffs. It caught the wings of airplanes, flying high above +us. But there was little of beauty in my mind's eye. That could see +through the surface beauty of the scene and of the day to the grim, +stark ugliness of war that lay beneath. + +I saw the ordered piles of boxes and supplies, the bright guns, with +the sun reflected from their barrels, dulled though these were to +prevent that very thing. And I thought of the waste that was +involved--of how all this vast product of industry was destined to be +destroyed, as swiftly as might be, bringing no useful accomplishment +with its destruction--save, of course, that accomplishment which must +be completed before any useful thing may be done again in this world. + +Then we went ashore, and I could scarcely believe that we were indeed +in France, that land which, friends though our nations are, is at +heart and in spirit so different from my own country. Boulogne had +ceased to be French, indeed. The port was like a bit of Britain +picked up, carried across the Channel and transplanted successfully +to a new resting-place. + +English was spoken everywhere--and much of it was the English of the +cockney, innocent of the aitch, and redolent of that strange tongue. +But it is no for me, a Scot, to speak of how any other man uses the +King's English! Well I ken it! It was good to hear it--had there been +a thought in my mind of being homesick, it would quickly have been +dispelled. The streets rang to the tread of British soldiers; our +uniform was everywhere. There were Frenchmen, too; they were +attached, many of them, for one reason and another, to the British +forces. But most of them spoke English too. + +I had most care about the unloading of my cigarettes. It was a point +of honor with me, by now, after the way my friends had joked me about +them, to see that every last one of the "fags" I had brought with me +reached a British Tommy. So to them I gave my first care. Then I saw +to the unloading of my wee piano, and, having done so, was free to go +with the other members of the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour to +the small hotel that was to be headquarters for all of us in +Boulogne. + +Arrangements had to be made for my debut in France, and I can tell +you that no professional engagement I have ever filled ever gave me +half so much concern as this one! I have sung before many strange +audiences, in all parts of the world, or nearly all. I have sung for +folk who had no idea of what to expect from me, and have known that I +must be at work from the moment of my first appearance on the stage +to win them. But these audiences that I was to face here in France +gave me more thought than any of them. I had so great a reason for +wanting to suceed with them! + +And here, ye ken, I faced conditions that were harder than had ever +fallen to my lot. I was not to have, most of the time, even the +military theaters that had, in some cases, been built for the men +behind the lines, where many actors and, indeed, whole companies, +from home had been appearing. I could make no changes of costume. I +would have no orchestra. Part of the time I would have my wee piano, +but I reckoned on going to places where even that sma' thing could no +follow me. + +But I had a good manager--the British army, no less! It was the army +that had arranged my booking. We were not left alone, not for a +minute. I would not have you think that we were left to go around on +our own, and as we pleased. Far from it! No sooner had we landed than +Captain Roberts, D.S.O., told me, in a brief, soldierly way, that was +also extremely businesslike, what sort of plans had been made for us. + +"We have a number of big hospitals here," he said. "This is one of +the important British bases, as you know, and it is one of those +where many of our men are treated before they are sent home. So, +since you are here, we thought you would want to give your first +concerts to the wounded men here." + +So I learned that the opening of what you might call my engagement in +the trenches was to be in hospitals. That was not new to me, and yet +I was to find that there was a difference between a base hospital in +France and the sort of hospitals I had seen so often at home. + +Nothing, indeed, was left to us. After Captain Roberts had explained +matters, we met Captain Godfrey, who was to travel with us, and be +our guide, our military mentor and our ruler. We understood that we +must place ourselves under him, and under military discipline. No +Tommy, indeed, was more under discipline than we had to be. But we +did not chafe, civilians though we were. When you see the British +army at work nothing is further from your thoughts than to criticize +or to offer any suggestions. It knows its business, and does it, +quietly and without fuss. But even Fritz has learned to be chary of +getting in the way when the British army has made up its mind--and +that is what he is there for, though I've no doubt that Fritz himself +would give a pretty penny to be at home again, with peace declared. + +Captain Godfrey, absolute though his power over us was--he could have +ordered us all home at a moment's notice--turned out to be a +delightful young officer, who did everything in his power to make our +way smooth and pleasant, and who was certainly as good a manager as I +ever had or ever expect to have. He entered into the spirit of our +tour, and it was plain to see that it would be a success from start +to finish if it were within his power to make it so. He liked to call +himself my manager, and took a great delight, indeed, in the whole +experience. Well, it was a change for him, no doubt! + +I had brought a piano with me, but no accompanist. That was not an +oversight; it was a matter of deliberate choice. I had been told, +before I left home, that I would have no difficulty in finding some +one among the soldiers to accompany me. And that was true, as I soon +found. In fact, as I was to learn later, I could have recruited a +full orchestra among the Tommies, and I would have had in my band, +too, musicians of fame and great ability, far above the average +theater orchestra. Oh, you must go to France to learn how every art +and craft in Britain has done its part! + +Aye, every sort of artist and artisan, men of every profession and +trade, can be found in the British army. It has taken them all, like +some great melting pot, and made them soldiers. I think, indeed, +there is no calling that you could name that would not yield you a +master hand from the ranks of the British army. And I am not talking +of the officers alone, but of the great mass of Tommies. And so when +I told Captain Godfrey I would be needing a good pianist to play my +accompaniments, he just smiled. + +"Right you are!" he said. "We'll turn one up for you in no time!" + +He had no doubts at all, and he was right. They found a lad called +Johnson, a Yorkshireman, in a convalescent ward of one of the big +hospitals. He was recovering from an illness he had incurred in the +trenches, and was not quite ready to go back to active duty. But he +was well enough to play for me, and delighted when he heard he might +get the assignment. He was nervous lest he should not please me, and +feared I might ask for another man. But when I ran over with him the +songs I meant to sing I found he played the piano very well indeed, +and had a knack for accompanying, too. There are good pianists, +soloists, who are not good accompanists; it takes more than just the +ability to play the piano to work with a singer, and especially with +a singer like me. It is no straight ahead singing I do always, as you +ken, perhaps. + +But I saw at once that Johnson and I would get along fine together, +so everyone was pleased, and I went on and made my preparations with +him for my first concert. That was to be in the Boulogne Casino-- +center of the gayety of the resort in the old days, but now, for a +long time, turned into a base hospital. + +They had played for high stakes there in the old days before the war. +Thousands of dollars had changed hands in an hour there. But they +were playing for higher stakes now! They were playing for the lives +and the health of men, and the hearts of the women at home in Britain +who were bound up with them. In the old days men had staked their +money against the turn of a card or the roll of the wheel. But now it +was with Death they staked--and it was a mightier game than those old +walls had ever seen before. + +The largest ward of the hospital was in what had been the Baccarat +room, and it was there I held my first concert of the trench +engagement. When I appeared it was packed full. There were men on +cots, lying still and helpless, bandaged to their very eyes. Some +came limping in on their crutches; some were rolled in in chairs. It +was a sad scene and an impressive one, and it went to my heart when I +thought that my own poor laddie must have lain in just such a room-- +in this very one, perhaps. He had suffered as these men were +suffering, and he had died--as some of these men for whom I was to +sing would die. For there were men here who would be patched up, +presently, and would go back. And for them there might be a next +time--a next time when they would need no hospital. + +There was one thing about the place I liked. It was so clean and +white and spotless. All the garish display, the paint and tawdry +finery, of the old gambling days, had gone. It was restful, now, and +though there was the hospital smell, it was a clean smell. And the +men looked as though they had wonderful care. Indeed, I knew they had +that; I knew that everything that could be done to ease their state +was being done. And every face I saw was brave and cheerful, though +the skin of many and many a lad was stretched tight over his bones +with the pain he had known, and there was a look in their eyes, a +look with no repining in it, or complaint, but with the evidences of +a terrible pain, bravely suffered, that sent the tears starting to my +eyes more than once. + +It was much as it had been in the many hospitals I had visited in +Britain, and yet it was different, too. I felt that I was really at +the front. Later I came to realize how far from the real front I +actually was at Boulogne, but then I knew no better. + +I had chosen my programme carefully. It was made up of songs +altogether. I had had enough experience in hospitals and camps by now +to have learned what soldiers liked best, and I had no doubt at all +that it was just songs. And best of all they liked the old love +songs, and the old songs of Scotland--tender, crooning melodies, that +would help to carry them back, in memory, to their hames and, if they +had them, to the lassies of their dreams. It was no sad, lugubrious +songs they wanted. But a note of wistful tenderness they liked. That +was true of sick and wounded, and of the hale and hearty too--and it +showed that, though they were soldiers, they were just humans like +the rest of us, for all the great and super-human things they ha' +done out there in France. + +Not every actor and artist who has tried to help in the hospitals has +fully understood the men he or she wanted to please. They meant well, +every one, but some were a wee bit unfortunate in the way they went +to work. There is a story that is told of one of our really great +serious actors. He is serious minded, always, on the stage and off, +and very, very dignified. But some folk went to him and asked him +would he no do his bit to cheer up the puir laddies in a hospital? + +He never thought of refusing--and I would no have you think I am +sneering at the man! His intentions were of the best. + +"Of course, I do not sing or dance," he said, drawing down his lip. +And the look in his eyes showed what he thought of such of us as had +descended to such low ways of pleasing the public that paid to see us +and to hear us: "But I shall very gladly do something to bring a +little diversion into the sad lives of the poor boys in the +hospitals." + +It was a stretcher audience that he had. That means a lot of boys who +had to lie in bed to hear him. They needed cheering. And that great +actor, with all his good intentions could think of nothing more +fitting than to stand up before them and begin to recite, in a sad, +elocutionary tone, Longfellow's "The Wreck of the Hesperus!" + +He went on, and his voice gained power. He had come to the third +stanza, or the fourth, maybe, when a command rang out through the +ward. It was one that had been heard many and many a time in France, +along the trenches. It came from one of the beds. + +"To cover, men!" came the order. + +It rang out through the ward, in a hoarse voice. And on the word +every man's head popped under the bedclothes! And the great actor, +astonished beyond measure, was left there, reciting away to shaking +mounds of bedclothes that entrenched his hearers from the sound of +his voice! + +Well, I had heard yon tale. I do no think I should ever have risked a +similar fate by making the same sort of mistake, but I profited by +hearing it, and I always remembered it. And there was another thing. +I never thought, when I was going to sing for soldiers, that I was +doing something for them that should make them glad to listen to me, +no matter what I chose to sing for them. + +I always thought, instead, that here was an audience that had paid to +hear me in the dearest coin in all the world--their legs and arms, +their health and happiness. Oh, they had paid! They had not come in +on free passes! Their tickets had cost them dear--dearer than tickets +for the theater had ever cost before. I owed them more than I could +ever pay--my own future, and my freedom, and the right and the chance +to go on living in my own country free from the threat and the menace +of the Hun. It was for me to please those boys when I sang for them, +and to make such an effort as no ordinary audience had ever heard +from me. + +They had made a little platform to serve as a stage for me. There was +room for me and for Johnson, and for the wee piano. And so I sang for +them, and they showed me from the start that they were pleased. Those +who could, clapped, and all cheered, and after each song there was a +great pounding of crutches on the floor. It was an inspiring sound +and a great sight, sad though it was to see and to hear. + +When I had done I went aboot amang the men, shaking hands with such +as could gie me their hands, and saying a word or two to all of them. +Directly in front of the platform there lay a wounded Scots soldier, +and all through my concert he watched me most intently; he never took +his eyes off me. When I had sung my last song he beckoned to me +feebly, and I went to him, and bent over to listen to him. + +"Eh, Harry, man," he said, "will ye be doin' me a favor?" + +"Aye, that I will, if I can," I told him. + +"It's to ask the doctor will I no be gettin' better soon. Because, +Harry, mon, I've but the one desire left--and that's to be in at the +finish of yon fight!" + +I was to give one more concert in Boulogne, that night. That was more +cheerful, and it was different, again, from anything I had done or +known before. There was a convalescent camp, about two miles from +town, high up on the chalk cliffs. And this time my theater was a +Y.M.C.A. hut. But do not let the name hut deceive ye! I had an +audience of two thousand men that nicht! It was all the "hut" would +hold, with tight squeezing. And what a roaring, wild crowd that was, +to be sure! They sang with me, and they cheered and clapped until I +thought that hut would be needing a new roof! + +I had to give over at last, for I was tired, and needed sleep. We had +our orders. The Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour was to start for +Vimy Ridge at six o'clock next morning! + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +We were up next morning before daybreak. But I did not feel as if I +were getting up early. Indeed, it was quite the reverse. All about us +was a scene of such activity that I felt as if I had been lying in +bed unconsciously long--as if I were the laziest man in all that busy +town. Troops were setting out, boarding military trains. Cheery, +jovial fellows they were--the same lads, some of them, who had +crossed the Channel with me, and many others who had come in later. +Oh, it is a steady stream of men and supplies, indeed, that goes +across the narrow sea to France! + +Motor trucks--they were calling them camions, after the French +fashion, because it was a shorter and a simpler word--fairly swarmed +in the streets. Guns rolled ponderously along. It was not military +pomp we saw. Indeed, I saw little enough of that in France. It was +only the uniforms and the guns that made me realize that this was +war. The activity was more that of a busy, bustling factory town. It +was not English, and it was not French. I think it made me think more +of an American city. War, I cannot tell you often enough, is a great +business, a vast industry, in these days. Someone said, and he was +right, that they did not win victories any more--that they +manufactured them, as all sorts of goods are manufactured. Digging, +and building--that is the great work of modern war. + +Our preparations, being in the hands of Captain Godfrey and the +British army, were few and easily made. Two great, fast army motor +cars had been put at the disposal of the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., +Tour, and when we went out to get into them and make our start it was +just a problem of stowing away all we had to carry with us. + +The first car was a passenger car. Each motor had a soldier as +chauffeur. I and the Reverend George Adam rode in the tonneau of the +leading car, and Captain Godfrey, our manager and guide, sat with the +driver, in front. That was where he belonged, and where, being a +British officer, he naturally wanted to be. They have called our +officers reckless, and said that they risked their lives too freely. +Weel--I dinna ken! I am no soldier. But I know what a glorious +tradition the British officer has--and I know, too, how his men +follow him. They know, do the laddies in the ranks, that their +officers will never ask them to go anywhere or do anything they would +shirk themselves--and that makes for a spirit that you could not +esteem too highly. + +It was the second car that was our problem. We put Johnson, my +accompanist, in the tonneau first, and then we covered him with +cigarettes. It was a problem to get them stowed away, and when we had +accomplished the task, finally, there was not much of Johnson to be +seen! He was covered and surrounded with cigarettes, but he was snug, +and he looked happy and comfortable, as he grinned at us--his face +was about all of him that we could see. Hogge rode in front with the +driver of that car, and had more room, so, than he would have had in +the tonneau, where, as a passenger and a guest, he really belonged. +The wee bit piano was lashed to the grid of the second car. And I +give you my word it looked like a gypsy's wagon more than like one of +the neat cars of the British army! + +Weel, all was ready in due time, and it was just six o'clock when we +set off. There was a thing I noted again and again. The army did +things on time in France. If we were to start at a certain time we +always did. Nothing ever happened to make us unpunctual. + +It was a glorious morning! We went roaring out of Boulogne on a road +that was as hard and smooth as a paved street in London despite all +the terrific traffic it had borne since the war made Boulogne a +British base. And there were no speed limits here. So soon as the +cars were tuned up we went along at the highest speed of which the +cars were capable. Our soldier drivers knew their business; only the +picked men were assigned to the driving of these cars, and speed was +one of the things that was wanted of them. Much may hang on the speed +of a motor car in France. + +But, fast as we traveled, we did not go too fast for me to enjoy the +drive and the sights and sounds that were all about us. They were +oddly mixed. Some were homely and familiar, and some were so strange +that I could not give over wondering at them. The motors made a great +noise, but it was not too loud for me to hear larks singing in the +early morning. All the world was green with the early sun upon it, +lighting up every detail of a strange countryside. There was a soft +wind, a gentle, caressing wind, that stirred the leaves of the trees +along the road. + +But not for long could we escape the touch of war. That grim etcher +was at work upon the road and the whole countryside. As we went on we +were bound to move more slowly, because of the congestion of the +traffic. Never was Piccadilly or Fifth Avenue more crowded with +motors at the busiest hour of the day than was that road. As we +passed through villages or came to cross roads we saw military +police, directing traffic, precisely as they do at busy intersections +of crowded streets in London or New York. + +But the traffic along that road was not the traffic of the cities. +Here were no ladies, gorgeously clad, reclining in their luxurious, +deeply upholstered cars. Here were no footmen and chauffeurs in +livery. Ah, they wore a livery--aye! But it was the livery of glory-- +the khaki of the King! Generals and high officers passed us, bowling +along, lolling in their cars, taking their few brief minutes or half +hours of ease, smoking and talking. They corresponded to the +limousines and landaulets of the cities. And there were wagons from +the shops--great trucks, carrying supplies, going along at a pace +that racked their engines and their bodies, and that boded disaster +to whoever got in their way. But no one did--there was no real +confusion here, despite the seeming madness of the welter of traffic +that we saw. + +What a traffic that was! And it was all the traffic of the carnage we +were nearing. It was a marvelous and an impressive panorama of force +and of destruction that we saw it was being constantly unrolled +before my wondering eyes as we traveled along the road out of old +Boulogne. + +At first all the traffic was going our way. Sometimes there came a +warning shriek from behind, and everything drew to one side to make +room for a dispatch rider on a motor cycle. These had the right of +way. Sir Douglas Haig himself, were he driving along, would see his +driver turn out to make way for one of those shrieking motor bikes! +The rule is absolute--everything makes way for them. + +But it was not long before a tide of traffic began to meet us, +flowing back toward Boulogne. There was a double stream then, and I +wondered how collisions and traffic jams of all sorts could be +avoided. I do not know yet; I only know that there is no trouble. +Here were empty trucks, speeding back for new loads. And some there +were that carried all sorts of wreckage--the flotsam and jetsam cast +up on the safe shores behind the front by the red tide of war. +Nothing is thrown away out there; nothing is wasted. Great piles of +discarded shoes are brought back to be made over. They are as good as +new when they come back from the factories where they are worked +over. Indeed, the men told me they were better than new, because they +were less trying to their feet, and did not need so much breaking in. + +Men go about, behind the front, and after a battle, picking up +everything that has been thrown away. Everything is sorted and gone +over with the utmost care. Rifles that have been thrown away or +dropped when men were wounded or killed, bits of uniforms, bayonets-- +everything is saved. Reclamation is the order of the day. There is +waste enough in war that cannot be avoided; the British army sees to +it that there is none that is avoidable. + +But it was not only that sort of wreckage, that sort of driftwood +that was being carried back to be made over. Presently we began to +see great motor ambulances coming along, each with a Red Cross +painted glaringly on its side--though that paint was wasted or worse, +for there is no target the Hun loves better, it would seem, than the +great red cross of mercy. And in them, as we knew, there was the most +pitiful wreckage of all--the human wreckage of the war. + +In the wee sma' hours of the morn they bear the men back who have +been hit the day before and during the night. They go back to the +field dressing stations and the hospitals just behind the front, to +be sorted like the other wreckage. Some there are who cannot be moved +further, at first, but must he cared for under fire, lest they die on +the way. But all whose wounds are such that they can safely be moved +go back in the ambulances, first to the great base hospitals, and +then, when possible, on the hospital ships to England. + +Sometimes, but not often, we passed troops marching along the road. +They swung along. They marched easily, with the stride that could +carry them furthest with the least effort. They did not look much +like the troops I used to see in London. They did not have the snap +of the Coldstream Guards, marching through Green Park in the old +days. But they looked like business and like war. They looked like +men who had a job of work to do and meant to see it through. + +They had discipline, those laddies, but it was not the old, stiff +discipline of the old army. That is a thing of a day that is dead and +gone. Now, as we passed along the side of the road that marching +troops always leave clear, there was always a series of hails for me. + +"Hello, Harry!" I would hear. + +And I would look back, and see grinning Tommies waving their hands to +me. It was a flattering experience, I can tell you, to be recognized +like that along that road. It was like running into old friends in a +strange town where you have come thinking you know no one at all. + +We were about thirty miles out of Boulogne when there was a sudden +explosion underneath the car, followed by a sibilant sound that I +knew only too well. + +"Hello--a puncture!" said Godfrey, and smiled as he turned around. We +drew up to the side of the road, and both chauffeurs jumped out and +went to work on the recalcitrant tire. The rest of us sat still, and +gazed around us at the fields. I was glad to have a chance to look +quietly about. The fields stretched out, all emerald green, in all +directions to the distant horizon, sapphire blue that glorious +morning. And in the fields, here and there, were the bent, stooped +figures of old men and women. They were carrying on, quietly. +Husbands and sons and brothers had gone to war; all the young men of +France had gone. These were left, and they were seeing to the +performance of the endless cycle of duty. France would survive; the +Hun could not crush her. Here was a spirit made manifest--a spirit +different in degree but not in kind from the spirit of my ain +Britain. It brought a lump into my throat to see them, the old men +and the women, going so patiently and quietly about their tasks. + +It was very quiet. Faint sounds came to us; there was a distant +rumbling, like the muttering of thunder on a summer's night, when the +day has been hot and there are low, black clouds lying against the +horizon, with the flashes of the lightning playing through them. But +that I had come already not to heed, though I knew full well, by now, +what it was and what it meant. For a little space the busy road had +become clear; there was a long break in the traffic. + +I turned to Adam and to Captain Godfrey. + +"I'm thinking here's a fine chance for a bit of a rehearsal in the +open air," I said. "I'm not used to singing so--mayhap it would be +well to try my voice and see will it carry as it should." + +"Right oh!" said Godfrey. + +And so we dug Johnson out from his snug barricade of cigarettes, that +hid him as an emplacement hides a gun, and we unstrapped my wee piano, +and set it up in the road. Johnson tried the piano, and then we began. + +I think I never sang with less restraint in all my life than I did +that quiet morning on the Boulogne road. I raised my voice and let it +have its will. And I felt my spirits rising with the lilt of the +melody. My voice rang out, full and free, and it must have carried +far and wide across the fields. + +My audience was small at first--Captain Godfrey, Hogge, Adam, and the +two chauffeurs, working away, and having more trouble with the tire +than they had thought at first they would--which is the way of tires, +as every man knows who owns a car. But as they heard my songs the old +men and women in the fields straightened up to listen. They stood +wondering, at first, and then, slowly, they gave over their work for +a space, and came to gather round me and to listen. + +It must have seemed strange to them! Indeed, it must have seemed +strange to anyone had they seen and heard me! There I was, with +Johnson at my piano, like some wayside tinker setting up his cart and +working at his trade! But I did not care for appearances--not a whit. +For the moment I was care free, a wandering minstrel, like some +troubadour of old, care free and happy in my song. I forgot the black +shadow under which we all lay in that smiling land, the black shadow +of war in which I sang. + +It delighted me to see those old peasants and to study their faces, +and to try to win them with my song. They could not understand a word +I sang, and yet I saw the smiles breaking out over their wrinkled +faces, and it made me proud and happy. For it was plain that I was +reaching them--that I was able to throw a bridge over the gap of a +strange tongue and an alien race. When I had done and it was plain I +meant to sing no more they clapped me. + +"There's a hand for you, Harry," said Adam. "Aye--and I'm proud of +it!" I told him for reply. + +I was almost sorry when I saw that the two chauffeurs had finished +their repairs and were ready to go on. But I told them to lash the +piano back in its place, and Johnson prepared to climb gingerly back +among his cigarettes. But just then something happened that I had not +expected. + +There was a turn in the road just beyond us that hid its continuation +from us. And around the bend now there came a company of soldiers. +Not neat and well-appointed soldiers these. Ah, no! They were fresh +from the trenches, on their way back to rest. The mud and grime of +the trenches were upon them. They were tired and weary, and they +carried all their accoutrements and packs with them. Their boots were +heavy with mud. And they looked bad, and many of them shaky. Most of +these men, Godfrey told me after a glance at them, had been ordered +back to hospital for minor ailments. They were able to march, but not +much more. + +They were the first men I had seen in such a case, They looked bad +enough, but Godfrey said they were happy enough. Some of them would +get leave for Blighty, and be home, in a few days, to see their +families and their girls. And they came swinging along in fine style, +sick and tired as they were, for the thought of where they were going +cheered them and helped to keep them going. + +A British soldier, equipped for the trenches, on his way in or out, +has quite a load to carry. He has his pack, and his emergency ration, +and his entrenching tools, and extra clothing that he needs in bad +weather in the trenches, to say nothing of his ever-present rifle. +And the sight of them made me realize for the first time the truth +that lay behind the jest in a story that is one of Tommy's favorites. + +A child saw a soldier in heavy marching order. She gazed at him in +wide-eyed wonder. He was not her idea of what a soldier should look +like. + +"Mother," she asked, "what is a soldier for?" + +The mother gazed at the man. And then she smiled. + +"A soldier," she answered, "is to hang things on." + +They eyed me very curiously as they came along, those sick laddies. +They couldn't seem to understand what I was doing there, but their +discipline held them. They were in charge of a young lieutenant with +one star--a second lieutenant. I learned later that he was a long way +from being a well man himself. So I stopped him. "Would your men like +to hear a few songs, lieutenant?" I asked him. + +He hesitated. He didn't quite understand, and he wasn't a bit sure +what his duty was in the circumstances. He glanced at Godfrey, and +Godfrey smiled at him as if in encouragement. + +"It's very good of you, I'm sure," he said, slowly. "Fall out!" + +So the men fell out, and squatted there, along the wayside. At once +discipline was relaxed. Their faces were a study as the wee piano was +set up again, and Johnson, in uniform, of course sat down and trued a +chord or two. And then suddenly something happened that broke the +ice. Just as I stood up to sing a loud voice broke the silence. + +"Lor' love us!" one of the men cried, "if it ain't old 'Arry Lauder!" + +There was a stir of interest at once. I spotted the owner of the +voice. It was a shriveled up little chap, with a weazened face that +looked like a sun-dried apple. He was showing all his teeth in a grin +at me, and he was a typical little cockney of the sort all Londoners +know well. + +"Go it, 'Arry!" he shouted, shrilly. "Many's the time h' I've 'eard +you at the old Shoreditch!" + +So I went it as well as I could, and I never did have a more +appreciative audience. My little cockney friend seemed to take a +particular personal pride in me. I think he thought he had found me, +and that he was, in an odd way, responsible for my success with his +mates. And so he was especially glad when they cheered me and thanked +me as they did. + +My concert didn't last long, for we had to be getting on, and the +company of sick men had just so much time, too, to reach their +destination--Boulogne, whence we had set out. When it was over I said +good-by to the men, and shook hands with particular warmth with the +little cockney. It wasn't every day I was likely to meet a man who +had often heard me at the old Shoreditch! After we had stowed Johnson +and the piano away again, with a few less cigarettes, now, to get in +Johnson's way, we started, and as long as we were in sight the little +cockney and I were waving to one another. + +I took some of the cigarettes into the car I was in now. And as we +sped along we were again in the thick of the great British war +machine. Motor trucks and ambulances were more frequent than ever, +and it was a common occurrence now to pass soldiers, marching in both +directions--to the front and away from it. There was always some-one +to recognize me and start a volley of "Hello, Harrys" coming my way, +and I answered every greeting, you may be sure, and threw cigarettes +to go with my "Hellos." + +Aye, I was glad I had brought the cigarettes! They seemed to be even +more welcome than I had hoped they would be, and I only wondered how +long the supply would hold out, and if I would be able to get more if +it did not. So Johnson, little by little, was getting more room, as I +called for more and more of the cigarettes that walled him in in his +tonneau. + +About noon, as we drove through a little town, I saw, for the first +time, a whole flock of airplanes riding the sky. They were swooping +about like lazy hawks, and a bonnie sight they were. I drew a long +breath when I saw them, and turned to my friend Adam. + +"Well," I said, "I think we're coming to it, now!" + +I meant the front--the real, British front. + +Suddenly, at a sharp order from Captain Godfrey, our cars stopped. He +turned around to us, and grinned, very cheerfully. + +"Gentlemen," he said, very calmly, "we'll stop here long enough to +put on our steel helmets." + +He said it just as he might have said: "Well, here's where we will +stop for tea." + +It meant no more than that to him. But for me it meant many things. +It meant that at last I was really to be under fire; that I was going +into danger. I was not really frightened yet; you have to see danger, +and know just what it is, and appreciate exactly its character, +before you can be frightened. But I had imagination enough to know +what that order meant, and to have a queer feeling as I donned the +steel helmet. It was less uncomfortable than I had expected it to +be--lighter, and easier to wear. The British trench helmets are +beautifully made, now; as in every other phase of the war and its +work they represent a constant study for improvement, lightening. + +But, even had it not been for the warning that was implied in Captain +Godfrey's order, I should soon have understood that we had come into +a new region. For a long time now the noise of the guns had been +different. Instead of being like distant thunder it was a much nearer +and louder sound. It was a steady, throbbing roar now. + +And, at intervals, there came a different sound; a sound more +individual, that stood out from the steady roar. It was as if the air +were being cracked apart by the blow of some giant hammer. I knew +what it was. Aye, I knew. You need no man to tell you what it is--the +explosion of a great shell not so far from you! + +Nor was it our ears alone that told us what was going on. Ever and +anon, now, ahead of us, as we looked at the fields, we saw a cloud of +dirt rise up. That was where a shell struck. And in the fields about +us, now, we could see holes, full of water, as a rule, and mounds of +dirt that did not look as if shovels and picks had raised them. + +It surprised me to see that the peasants were still at work. I spoke +to Godfrey about that. + +"The French peasants don't seem to know what it is to be afraid of +shell-fire," he said. "They go only when we make them. It is the same +on the French front. They will cling to a farmhouse in the zone of +fire until they are ordered out, no matter how heavily it may be +shelled. They are splendid folk! The Germans can never beat a race +that has such folk as that behind its battle line." + +I could well believe him. I have seen no sight along the whole front +more quietly impressive than the calm, impassive courage of those +French peasants. They know they are right! It is no Kaiser, no war +lord, who gives them courage. It is the knowledge and the +consciousness that they are suffering in a holy cause, and that, in +the end, the right and the truth must prevail. Their own fate, +whatever may befall them, does not matter. France must go on and +shall, and they do their humble part to see that she does and shall. + +Solemn thoughts moved me as we drove on. Here there had been real war +and fighting. Now I saw a country blasted by shell-fire and wrecked +by the contention of great armies. And I knew that I was coming to +soil watered by British blood; to rows of British graves; to soil +that shall be forever sacred to the memory of the Britons, from +Britain and from over the seas, who died and fought upon it to redeem +it from the Hun. + +I had no mind to talk, to ask questions. For the time I was content +to be with my own thoughts, that were evoked by the historic ground +through which we passed. My heart was heavy with grief and with the +memories of my boy that came flooding it, but it was lightened, too, +by other thoughts. + +And always, as we sped on, there was the thunder of the guns. Always +there were the bursting shells, and the old bent peasants paying no +heed to them. Always there were the circling airplanes, far above us, +like hawks against the deep blue of the sky. And always we came +nearer and nearer to Vimy Ridge--that deathless name in the history +of Britain. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Now Captain Godfrey leaned back and smiled at us. + +"There's Vimy Ridge," he said. And he pointed. + +"Yon?" I asked, in astonishment. + +I was almost disappointed. We had heard so much, in Britain and in +Scotland, of Vimy Ridge. The name of that famous hill had been +written imperishably in history. But to look at it first, to see it +as I saw it, it was no hill at all! My eyes were used to the +mountains of my ain Scotland, and this great ridge was but a tiny +thing beside them. But then I began to picture the scene as it had +been the day the Canadians stormed it and won for themselves the +glory of all the ages. I pictured it blotted from sight by the hell +of shells bursting over it, and raking its slopes as the Canadians +charged upward. I pictured it crowned by defenses and lined by such +of the Huns as had survived the artillery battering, spitting death +and destruction from their machine guns. And then I saw it as I +should, and I breathed deep at the thought of the men who had faced +death and hell to win that height and plant the flag of Britain upon +it. Aye, and the Stars and Stripes of America, too! + +Ye ken that tale? There was an American who had enlisted, like so +many of his fellow countrymen before America was in the war, in the +Canadian forces. The British army was full of men who had told a +white lie to don the King's uniform. Men there are in the British +army who winked as they enlisted and were told: "You'll be a +Canadian?" + +"Aye, aye, I'm a Canadian," they'd say. "From what province?" + +"The province of Kentucky--or New York--or California!" + +Well, there was a lad, one of them, was in the first wave at Vimy +Ridge that April day in 1917. 'Twas but a few days before that a wave +of the wildest cheering ever heard had run along the whole Western +front, so that Fritz in his trenches wondered what was up the noo. +Well, he has learned, since then! He has learned, despite his Kaiser +and his officers, and his lying newspapers, that that cheer went up +when the news came that America had declared war upon Germany. And +so, it was a few days after that cheer was heard that the Canadians +leaped over the top and went for Vimy Ridge, and this young fellow +from America had a wee silken flag. He spoke to his officer. + +"Now that my own country's in the war, sir," he said, "I'd like to +carry her flag with me when we go over the top. Wrapped around me, +sir--" + +"Go it!" said the officer. + +And so he did. And he was one of those who won through and reached +the top. There he was wounded, but he had carried the Stars and +Stripes with him to the crest. + +Vimy Ridge! I could see it. And above it, and beyond it, now, for the +front had been carried on, far beyond, within what used to be the +lines of the Hun, the airplanes circled. Very quiet and lazy they +seemed, for all I knew of their endless activity and the precious +work that they were doing. I could see how the Huns were shelling +them. You would see an airplane hovering, and then, close by, +suddenly, a ball of cottony white smoke. Shrapnel that was, bursting, +as Fritz tried to get the range with an anti-aircraft gun--an Archie, +as the Tommies call them. But the plane would pay no heed, except, +maybe, to dip a bit or climb a little higher to make it harder for +the Hun. It made me think of a man shrugging his shoulders, calmly +and imperturbably, in the face of some great peril, and I wanted to +cheer. I had some wild idea that maybe he would hear me, and know +that someone saw him, and appreciated what he was doing--someone to +whom it was not an old story! But then I smiled at my own thought. + +Now it was time for us to leave the cars and get some exercise. Our +steel helmets were on, and glad we were of them, for shrapnel was +bursting nearby sometimes, although most of the shells were big +fellows, that buried themselves in the ground and then exploded. +Fritz wasn't doing much casual shelling the noo, though. He was +saving his fire until his observers gave him a real target to aim at. +But that was no so often, for our airplanes were in command of the +air then, and his flyers got precious little chance to guide his +shooting. Most of his hits were due to luck. + +"Spread out a bit as you go along here," said Captain Godfrey. "If a +crump lands close by there's no need of all of us going! If we're +spread out a bit, you see, a shell might get one and leave the rest +of us." + +It sounded cold blooded, but it was not. To men who have lived at the +front everything comes to be taken as a matter of course. Men can get +used to anything--this war has proved that again, if there was need +of proving it. And I came to understand that, and to listen to things +I heard with different ears. But those are things no one can tell you +of; you must have been at the front yourself to understand all that +goes on there, both in action and in the minds of men. + +We obeyed Captain Godfrey readily enough, as you can guess. And so I +was alone as I walked toward Vimy Ridge. It looked just like a lumpy +excrescence on the landscape; at hame we would not even think of it +as a foothill. But as I neared it, and as I rememered all it stood +for, I thought that in the atlas of history it would loom higher than +the highest peak of the great Himalaya range. + +Beyond the ridge, beyond the actual line of the trenches, miles away, +indeed, were the German batteries from which the shells we heard and +saw as they burst were coming. I was glad of my helmet, and of the +cool assurance of Captain Godfrey. I felt that we were as safe, in +his hands, as men could be in such a spot. + +It was not more than a mile we had to cover, but it was rough going, +bad going. Here war had had its grim way without interruption. The +face of the earth had been cut to pieces. Its surface had been +smashed to a pulpy mass. The ground had been plowed, over and over, +by a rain of shells--German and British. What a planting there had +been that spring, and what a plowing! A harvest of death it had been +that had been sown--and the reaper had not waited for summer to come, +and the Harvest moon. He had passed that way with his scythe, and +where we passed now he had taken his terrible, his horrid, toll. + +At the foot of the ridge I saw men fighting for the first time-- +actually fighting, seeking to hurt an enemy. It was a Canadian +battery we saw, and it was firing, steadily and methodically, at the +Huns. Up to now I had seen only the vast industrial side of war, its +business and its labor. Now I was, for the first time, in touch with +actual fighting. I saw the guns belching death and destruction, +destined for men miles away. It was high angle fire, of course, +directed by observers in the air. + +But even that seemed part of the sheer, factory-like industry of war. +There was no passion, no coming to grips in hot blood, here. Orders +were given by the battery commander and the other officers as the +foreman in a machine shop might give them. And the busy artillerymen +worked like laborers, too, clearing their guns after a salvo, loading +them, bringing up fresh supplies of ammunition. It was all +methodical, all a matter of routine. + +"Good artillery work is like that," said Captain Godfrey, when I +spoke to him about it. "It's a science. It's all a matter of the +higher mathematics. Everything is worked out to half a dozen places +of decimals. We've eliminated chance and guesswork just as far as +possible from modern artillery actions." + +But there was something about it all that was disappointing, at first +sight. It let you down a bit. Only the guns themselves kept up the +tradition. Only they were acting as they should, and showing a proper +passion and excitement. I could hear them growling ominously, like +dogs locked in their kennel when they would be loose and about, and +hunting. And then they would spit, angrily. They inflamed my +imagination, did those guns; they satisfied me and my old-fashioned +conception of war and fighting, more than anything else that I had +seen had done. And it seemed to me that after they had spit out their +deadly charge they wiped their muzzles with red tongues of flame, +satisfied beyond all words or measure with what they had done. + +We were rising now, as we walked, and getting a better view of the +country that lay beyond. And so I came to understand a little better +the value of a height even so low and insignificant as Vimy Ridge in +that flat country. While the Germans held it they could overlook all +our positions, and all the advantage of natural placing had been to +them. Now, thanks to the Canadians, it was our turn, and we were +looking down. + +Weel, I was under fire. There was no doubt about it. There was a +droning over us now, like the noise bees make, or many flies in a +small room on a hot summer's day. That was the drone of the German +shells. There was a little freshening of the artillery activity on +both sides, Captain Godfrey said, as if in my honor. When one side +increased its fire the other always answered--played copy cat. There +was no telling, ye ken, when such an increase of fire might not be +the first sign of an attack. And neither side took more chances than +it must. + +I had known, before I left Britain, that I would come under fire. And +I had wondered what it would be like: I had expected to be afraid, +nervous. Brave men had told me, one after another, that every man is +afraid when he first comes under fire. And so I had wondered how I +would be, and I had expected to be badly scared and extremely +nervous. Now I could hear that constant droning of shells, and, in +the distance, I could see, very often, powdery squirts of smoke and +dirt along the ground, where our shells were striking, so that I knew +I had the Hun lines in sight. + +And I can truthfully say that, that day, at least, I felt no great +fear or nervousness. Later I did, as I shall tell you, but that day +one overpowering emotion mastered every other. It was a desire for +vengeance! You were the Huns--the men who had killed my boy. They +were almost within my reach. And as I looked at them there in their +lines a savage desire possessed me, almost overwhelmed me, indeed, +that made me want to rush to those guns and turn them to my own mad +purpose of vengeance. + +It was all I could do, I tell you, to restrain myself--to check that +wild, almost ungovernable impulse to rush to the guns and grapple +with them myself--myself fire them at the men who had killed my boy. +I wanted to fight! I wanted to fight with my two hands--to tear and +rend, and have the consciousness that I flash back, like a telegraph +message from my satiated hands to my eager brain that was spurring me on. + +But that was not to be. I knew it, and I grew calmer, presently. The +roughness of the going helped me to do that, for it took all a man's +wits and faculties to grope his way along the path we were following +now. Indeed, it was no path at all that led us to the Pimple--the +topmost point of Vimy Ridge, which changed hands half a dozen times +in the few minutes of bloody fighting that had gone on here during +the great attack. + +The ground was absolutely riddled with shell holes here. There must +have been a mine of metal underneath us. What path there was +zigzagged around. It had been worn to such smoothness as it possessed +since the battle, and it evaded the worst craters by going around +them. My madness was passed now, and a great sadness had taken its +place. For here, where I was walking, men had stumbled up with +bullets and shells raining about them. At every step I trod ground +that must have been the last resting-place of some Canadian soldier, +who had died that I might climb this ridge in a safety so +immeasurably greater than his had been. + +If it was hard for us to make this climb, if we stumbled as we walked, +what had it been for them? Our breath came hard and fast--how had it +been with them? Yet they had done it! They had stormed the ridge the +Huns had proudly called impregnable. They had taken, in a swift rush, +that nothing could stay, a position the Kaiser's generals had assured +him would never be lost--could never be reached by mortal troops. + +The Pimple, for which we were heading now, was an observation post at +that time. There there was a detachment of soldiers, for it was an +important post, covering much of the Hun territory beyond. A major of +infantry was in command; his headquarters were a large hole in the +ground, dug for him by a German shell--fired by German gunners who had +no thought further from their minds than to do a favor for a British +officer. And he was sitting calmly in front of his headquarters, +smoking a pipe, when we reached the crest and came to the Pimple. + +He was a very calm man, that major, given, I should say, to the +greatest repression. I think nothing would have moved him from that +phlegmatic calm of his! He watched us coming, climbing and making +hard going of it. If he was amused he gave no sign, as he puffed at +his pipe. I, for one, was puffing, too--I was panting like a grampus. +I had thought myself in good condition, but I found out at Vimy Ridge +that I was soft and flabby. + +Not a sign did that major give until we reached him. And then, as we +stood looking at him, and beyond him at the panorama of the trenches, +he took his pipe from his mouth. + +"Welcome to Vimy Ridge!" he said, in the manner of a host greeting a +party bidden for the weekend. + +I was determined that that major should not outdo me. I had precious +little wind left to breathe with, much less to talk, but I called for +the last of it. + +"Thank you, major," I said. "May I join you in a smoke?" + +"Of course you can!" he said, unsmiling. + +"That is, if you've brought your pipe with you." "Aye, I've my pipe," +I told him. "I may forget to pay my debt, but I'll never forget my +pipe." And no more I will. + +So I sat down beside him, and drew out my pipe, and made a long +business of filling it, and pushing the tobacco down just so, since +that gave me a chance to get my wind. And when I was ready to light +up I felt better, and I was breathing right, so that I could talk as +I pleased without fighting for breath. + +My friend the major proved an entertaining chap, and a talkative one, +too, for all his seeming brusqueness. He pointed out the spots that +had been made famous in the battle, and explained to me what it was +the Canadians had done. And I saw and understood better than ever +before what a great feat that had been, and how heavily it had +counted. He lent me his binoculars, too, and with them I swept the +whole valley toward Lens, where the great French coal mines are, and +where the Germans have been under steady fire so long, and have been +hanging on by their eyelashes. + +It was not the place I should choose, ordinarily, to do a bit of +sight-seeing. The German shells were still humming through the air +above us, though not quite so often as they had. But there were +enough of them, and they seemed to me close enough for me to feel the +wind they raised as they passed. I thought for sure one of them would +come along, presently, and clip my ears right off. And sometimes I +felt myself ducking my head--as if that would do me any good! But I +did not think about it; I would feel myself doing it, without having +intended to do anything of the sort. I was a bit nervous, I suppose, +but no one could be really scared or alarmed in the unplumbable +depths of calm in which that British major was plunged! + +It was a grand view I had of the valley, but it was not the sort of +thing I had expected to see. I knew there were thousands of men +there, and I think I had expected to see men really fighting. But +there was nothing of the sort. Not a man could I see in all the +valley. They were under cover, of course. When I stopped to think +about it, that was what I should have expected, of course. If I could +have seen our laddies there below, why, the Huns could have seen them +too. And that would never have done. + +I could hear our guns, too, now, very well. They were giving voice +all around me, but never a gun could I see, for all my peering and +searching around. Even the battery we had passed below was out of +sight now. And it was a weird thing, and an uncanny thing to think of +all that riot of sound around, and not a sight to be had of the +batteries that were making it! + +Hogge came up while I was talking to the major. "Hello!" he said. +"What have you done to your knee, Lauder?" + +I looked down and saw a trickle of blood running down, below my knee. +It was bare, of course, because I wore my kilt. + +"Oh, that's nothing," I said. + +I knew at once what it was. I remembered that, as I stumbled up the +hill, I had tripped over a bit of barbed wire and scratched my leg. +And so I explained. + +"And I fell into a shell-hole, too," I said. "A wee one, as they go +around here." But I laughed. "Still, I'll be able to say I was +wounded on Vimy Ridge." + +I glanced at the major as I said that, and was half sorry I had made +the poor jest. And I saw him smile, in one corner of his mouth, as I +said I had been "wounded." It was the corner furthest from me, but I +saw it. And it was a dry smile, a withered smile. I could guess his +thought. + +"Wounded!" he must have said to himself, scornfully. And he must have +remembered the real wounds the Canadians had received on that +hillside. Aye, I could guess his thought. And I shared it, although I +did not tell him so. But I think he understood. + +He was still sitting there, puffing away at his old pipe, as quiet +and calm and imperturbable as ever, when Captain Godfrey gathered us +together to go on. He gazed out over the valley. + +He was a man to be remembered for a long time, that major. I can see +him now, in my mind's eye, sitting there, brooding, staring out +toward Lens and the German lines. And I think that if I were choosing +a figure for some great sculptor to immortalize, to typify and +represent the superb, the majestic imperturbability of the British +Empire in time of stress and storm, his would be the one. I could +think of no finer figure than his for such a statue. You would see +him, if the sculptor followed my thought, sitting in front of his +shell-hole on Vimy Ridge, calm, dispassionate, devoted to his duty +and the day's work, quietly giving the directions that guided the +British guns in their work of blasting the Hun out of the refuge he +had chosen when the Canadians had driven him from the spot where the +major sat. + +It was easier going down Vimy Ridge than it had been coming up, but +it was hard going still. We had to skirt great, gaping holes torn by +monstrous shells--shells that had torn the very guts out of the +little hill. + +"We're going to visit another battery," said Captain Godfrey. "I'll +tell you I think it's the best hidden battery on the whole British +front! And that's saying a good deal, for we've learned a thing or +two about hiding our whereabouts from Fritz. He's a curious one, +Fritz is, but we try not to gratify his curiosity any more than we +must." + +"I'll be glad to see more of the guns," I said. + +"Well, here you'll see more than guns. The major in command at this +battery we're heading for has a decoration that was given to him just +for the way he hid his guns. There's much more than fighting that a +man has to do in this war if he's to make good." + +As we went along I kept my eyes open, trying to get a peep at the +guns before Godfrey should point them out to me. I could hear firing +going on all around me, but there was so much noise that my ears were +not a guide. I was not a trained observer, of course; I would not +know a gun position at sight, as some soldier trained to the work +would be sure to do. And yet I thought I could tell when I was coming +to a great battery. I thought so, I say! + +Again, though I had that feeling of something weird and uncanny. For +now, as we walked along, I did hear the guns, and I was sure, from +the nature of the sound, that we were coming close to them. But, as I +looked straight toward the spot where my ears told me that they must +be, I could see nothing at all. I thought that perhaps Godfrey had +lost his way, and that we were wandering along the wrong path. It did +not seem likely, but it was possible. + +And then, suddenly, when I was least expecting it, we stopped. + +"Well--here we are!" said the captain, and grinned at our amazement. + +And there we were indeed! We were right among the guns of a Canadian +battery, and the artillerymen were shouting their welcome, for they +had heard that I was coming, and recognized me as soon as they saw +me. But--how had we got here? I looked around me, in utter amazement. +Even now that I had come to the battery I could not understand how it +was that I had been deceived--how that battery had been so marvelously +concealed that, if one did not know of its existence and of its exact +location, one might literally stumble over it in broad daylight! + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +It had turned very hot, now, at the full of the day. Indeed, it was +grilling weather, and there in the battery, in a hollow, close down +beside a little run or stream, it was even hotter than on the +shell-swept bare top of the ridge. So the Canadian gunners had +stripped down for comfort. Not a man had more than his under-shirt on +above his trousers, and many of them were naked to the waist, with +their hide tanned to the color of old saddles. + +These laddies reminded me of those in the first battery I had seen. +They were just as calm, and just as dispassionate as they worked in +their mill--it might well have been a mill in which I saw them +working. Only they were no grinding corn, but death--death for the +Huns, who had brought death to so many of their mates. But there was +no excitement, there were no cries of hatred and anger. + +They were hard at work. Their work, it seemed, never came to an end +or even to a pause. The orders rang out, in a sort of sing-song +voice. After each shot a man who sat with a telephone strapped about +his head called out corrections of the range, in figures that were +just a meaningless jumble to me, although they made sense to the men +who listened and changed the pointing of the guns at each order. + +[ILLUSTRATION: Capt. John Lauder and Comrades Before The Trenches In +France (See Lauder07.jpg)] + +Their faces, that, like their bare backs and chests, looked like +tanned leather, were all grimy from their work among the smoke and +the gases. And through the grime the sweat had run down like little +rivers making courses for themselves in the soft dirt of a hillside. +They looked grotesque enough, but there was nothing about them to +make me feel like laughing, I can tell you! And they all grinned +amiably when the amazed and disconcerted Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., +Tour came tumbling in among them. We all felt right at hame at once-- +and I the more so when a chap I had met and come to know well in +Toronto during one of my American tours came over and gripped my hand. + +"Aye, but it's good to see your face, Harry!" he said, as he made +me welcome. + +This battery had done great work ever since it had come out. No +battery in the whole army had a finer record, I was told. And no one +needed to tell me the tale of its losses. Not far away there was a +little cemetery, filled with doleful little crosses, set up over +mounds that told their grim story all too plainly and too eloquently. + +The battery had gone through the Battle of Vimy Ridge and made a +great name for itself. And now it was set down upon a spot that had +seen some of the very bloodiest of the fighting on that day. I saw +here, for the first time, some of the most horrible things that the +war holds. There was a little stream, as I said, that ran through the +hollow in which the battery was placed, and that stream had been +filled with blood, not water, on the day of the battle. + +Everywhere, here, were whitened bones of men. In the wild swirling of +the battle, and the confusion of digging in and meeting German +counter attacks that had followed it, it had not been possible to +bury all the dead. And so the whitened bones remained, though the +elements had long since stripped them bare. The elements--and the +hungry rats. These are not pretty things to tell, but they are true, +and the world should know what war is to-day. + +I almost trod upon one skeleton that remained complete. It was that +of a huge German soldier--a veritable giant of a man, he must have +been. The bones of his feet were still encased in his great boots, +their soles heavily studded with nails. Even a few shreds of his +uniform remained. But the flesh was all gone. The sun and the rats +and the birds had accounted for the last morsel of it. + +Hundreds of years from now, I suppose, the bones that were strewn +along that ground will still be being turned up by plows. The +generations to come who live there will never lack relics of the +battle, and of the fighting that preceded and followed it. They will +find bones, and shell cases, and bits of metal of all sorts. Rusty +bayonets will be turned up by their plowshares; strange coins, as +puzzling as some of those of Roman times that we in Britain have +found, will puzzle them. Who can tell how long it will be before the +soil about Vimy Ridge will cease to give up its relics? + +That ground had been searched carefully for everything that might +conceivably be put to use again, or be made fit for further service. +The British army searches every battlefield so in these days. And +yet, when I was there, many weeks after the storm of fighting had +passed on, and when the scavengers had done their work, the ground +was still rather thickly strewn with odds and ends that interested me +vastly. I might have picked up much more than I did. But I could not +carry so very much, and, too, so many of the things brought grisly +thoughts to my mind! God knows I needed no reminders of the war! I +had a reminder in my heart, that never left me. Still, I took some +few things, more for the sake of the hame folks, who might not see, +and would, surely, be interested. I gathered some bayonets for my +collection--somehow they seemed the things I was most willing to take +along. One was British, one German--two were French. + +But the best souvenir of all I got at Vimy Ridge I did not pick up. +It was given to me by my friend, the grave major--him of whom I would +like some famous sculptor to make a statue as he sat at his work of +observation. That was a club--a wicked looking instrument. This club +had a great thick head, huge in proportion to its length and size, +and this head was studded with great, sharp nails. A single blow from +it would finish the strongest man that ever lived. It was a fit +weapon for a murderer--and a murderer had wielded it. The major had +taken it from a Hun, who had meant to use it--had, doubtless, used +it!--to beat out the brains of wounded men, lying on the ground. Many +of those clubs were taken from the Germans, all along the front, both +by the British and the French, and the Germans had never made any +secret of the purpose for which they were intended. Well, they picked +poor men to try such tactics on when they went against the Canadians! + +The Canadians started no such work, but they were quick to adopt a +policy of give and take. It was the Canadians who began the trench +raids for which the Germans have such a fierce distaste, and after +they had learned something of how Fritz fought the Canadians took to +paying him back in some of his own coin. Not that they matched the +deeds of the Huns--only a Hun could do that. But the Canadians were +not eager to take prisoners. They would bomb a dugout rather than +take its occupants back. And a dugout that has been bombed yields few +living men! + +Who shall blame them? Not I--nor any other man who knows what lessons +in brutality and treachery the Canadians have had from the Hun. It was +the Canadians, near Ypres, who went through the first gas attack--that +fearful day when the Germans were closer to breaking through than they +ever were before or since. I shall not set down here all the tales I +heard of the atrocities of the Huns. Others have done that. Men have +written of that who have firsthand knowledge, as mine cannot be. I +know only what has been told to me, and there is little need of hearsay +evidence. There is evidence enough that any court would accept as hanging +proof. But this much it is right to say--that no troops along the Western +front have more to revenge than have the Canadians. + +It is not the loss of comrades, dearly loved though they be, that +breeds hatred among the soldiers. That is a part of war, and always +was. The loss of friends and comrades may fire the blood. It may lead +men to risk their own lives in a desperate charge to get even. But it +is a pain that does not rankle and that does not fester like a sore +that will not heal. It is the tales the Canadians have to tell of +sheer, depraved torture and brutality that has inflamed them to the +pitch of hatred that they cherish. It has seemed as if the Germans +had a particular grudge against the Canadians. And that, indeed, is +known to be the case. The Germans harbored many a fond illusion before +the war. They thought that Britain would not fight, first of all. + +And then, when Britain did declare war, they thought they could +speedily destroy her "contemptible little army." Ah, weel--they did +come near to destroying it! But not until it had helped to balk them +of their desire--not until it had played its great and decisive part +in ruining the plans the Hun had been making and perfecting for +forty-four long years. And not until it had served as a dyke behind +which floods of men in the khaki of King George had had time to arm +and drill to rush out to oppose the gray-green floods that had swept +through helpless Belgium. + +They had other illusions, beside that major one that helped to wreck +them. They thought there would be a rebellion and civil war in +Ireland. They took too seriously the troubles of the early summer of +1914, when Ulster and the South of Ireland were snapping and snarling +at each other's throats. They looked for a new mutiny in India, which +should keep Britain's hands full. They expected strikes at home. But, +above all, they were sure that the great, self-governing dependencies +of Britain, that made up the mighty British Empire, would take no +part in the fight. + +Canada, Australasia, South Africa--they never reckoned upon having to +cope with them. These were separate nations, they thought, +independent in fact if not in name, which would seize the occasion to +separate themselves entirely from the mother country. In South Africa +they were sure that there would be smoldering discontent enough left +from the days of the Boer war to break out into a new flame of war +and rebellion at this great chance. + +And so it drove them mad with fury when they learned that Canada and +all the rest had gone in, heart and soul. And when even their poison +gas could not make the Canadians yield; when, later still, they +learned that the Canadians were their match, and more than their +match, in every phase of the great game of war, their rage led them +to excesses against the men from overseas even more damnable than +those that were their general practice. + +These Canadians, who were now my hosts, had located their guns in a +pit triangular in shape. The guns were mounted at the corners of the +triangle, and along its sides. And constantly, while I was there they +coughed their short, sharp coughs and sent a spume of metal flying +toward the German lines. Never have I seen a busier spot. And, +remember--until I had almost fallen into that pit, with its +sputtering, busy guns, I had not been able to make even a good guess +as to where they were! The very presence of this workshop of death +was hidden from all save those who had a right to know of it. + +It was a masterly piece of camouflage. I wish I could explain to you +how the effect was achieved. It was all made plain to me; every step +of the process was explained, and I cried out in wonder and in +admiration at the clever simplicity of it. But that is one of the +things I may not tell. I saw many things, during my time at the +front, that the Germans would give a pretty penny to know. But none +of the secrets that I learned would be more valuable, even to-day, +than that of that hidden battery. And so--I must leave you in +ignorance as to that. + +The commanding officer was most kindly and patient in explaining +matters to me. + +"We can't see hide nor hair of our targets here, of course," he said, +"any more than Fritz can see us. We get all our ranges and the +records of all our hits, from Normabell." + +I looked a question, I suppose. + +"You called on him, I think--up on the Pimple. Major Normabell, D.S.O." + +That was how I learned the name of the imperturbable major with whom +I had smoked a pipe on the crest of Vimy Ridge. I shall always +remember his name and him. I saw no man in France who made a livelier +impression upon my mind and my imagination. + +"Aye," I said. "I remember. So that's his name--Normabell, D.S.O. +I'll make a note of that." + +My informant smiled. + +"Normabell's one of our characters," he said. "Well, you see he +commands a goodish bit of country there where he sits. And when he +needs them he has aircraft observations to help him, too. He's our +pair of eyes. We're like moles down here, we gunners--but he does all +our seeing for us. And he's in constant communication--he or one of +his officers." + +I wondered where all the shells the battery was firing were headed +for. And I learned that just then it was paying its respects +particularly to a big factory building just west of Lens. For some +reason that had been marked for destruction, but it had been +reinforced and strengthened so that it was taking a lot of smashing +and standing a good deal more punishment than anyone had thought it +could--which was reason enough, in itself, to stick to the job until +that factory was nothing more than a heap of dust and ruins. + +The way the guns kept pounding away at it made me think of firemen in +a small town drenching a local blaze with their hose. The gunners +were just so eager as that. And I could almost see that factory, +crumbling away. Major Normabell had pointed it out to me, up on the +ridge, and now I knew why. I'll venture to say that before night the +eight-inch howitzers of that battery had utterly demolished it, and +so ended whatever usefulness it had had for the Germans. + +It was cruel business to be knocking the towns and factories of our +ally, France, to bits in the fashion that we were doing that day-- +there and at many another point along the front. The Huns are fond of +saying that much of the destruction in Northern France has been the +work of allied artillery. True enough--but who made that inevitable +And it was not our guns that laid waste a whole countryside before +the German retreat in the spring of 1917, when the Huns ran wild, +rooting up fruit trees, cutting down every other tree that could be +found, and doing every other sort of wanton damage and mischief their +hands could find to do. + +"Hard lines," said the battery commander. He shrugged his shoulders. +"No use trying to spare shells here, though, even on French towns. +The harder we smash them the sooner it'll be over. Look here, sir." + +He pointed out the men who sat, their telephone receivers strapped +over their ears. Each served a gun. In all that hideous din it was of +the utmost importance that they should hear correctly every word and +figure that came to them over the wire--a part of that marvelously +complete telephone and telegraph system that has been built for and +by the British army in France. + +"They get corrections on every shot," he told me. "The guns are +altered in elevation according to what they hear. The range is +changed, and the pointing, too. We never see old Fritz--but we know +he's getting the visiting cards we send him." + +They were amazingly calm, those laddies at the telephones. In all +that hideous, never-ending din, they never grew excited. Their voices +were calm and steady as they repeated the orders that came to them. I +have seen girls at hotel switchboards, expert operators, working with +conditions made to their order, who grew infinitely more excited at a +busy time, when many calls were coming in and going out. Those men +might have been at home, talking to a friend of their plans for an +evening's diversion, for all the nervousness or fussiness they showed. + +Up there, on the Pimple, I had seen Normabell, the eyes of the +battery. Here I was watching its ears. And, to finish the metaphor, +to work it out, I was listening to its voice. Its brazen tongues were +giving voice continually. The guns--after all, everything else led up +to them. They were the reason for all the rest of the machinery of +the battery, and it was they who said the last short word. + +There was a good deal of rough joking and laughter in the battery. +The Canadian gunners took their task lightly enough, though their +work was of the hardest--and of the most dangerous, too. But jokes +ran from group to group, from gun to gun. They were constantly +kidding one another, as an American would say, I think. If a +correction came for one gun that showed there had been a mistake in +sighting after the last orders--if, that is, the gunners, and not the +distant observers, were plainly at fault--there would be a +good-natured outburst of chaffing from all the others. + +But, though such a spirit of lightness prevailed, there was not a +moment of loafing. These men were engaged in a grim, deadly task, +and every once in a while I would catch a black, purposeful look +in a man's eyes that made me realize that, under all the light +talk and laughter there was a perfect realization of the truth. +They might not show, on the surface, that they took life and their +work seriously. Ah, no! They preferred, after the custom of their +race, to joke with death. + +And so they were doing quite literally. The Germans knew perfectly +well that there was a battery somewhere near the spot where I had +found my gunners. Only the exact location was hidden from them, and +they never ceased their efforts to determine that. Fritz's airplanes +were always trying to sneak over to get a look. An airplane was the +only means of detection the Canadians feared. No--I will not say they +feared it! The word fear did not exist for that battery! But it was +the only way in which there was a tolerable chance, even, for Fritz +to locate them, and, for the sake of the whole operation at that +point, as well as for their own interest, they were eager to avoid +that. + +German airplanes were always trying to sneak over, I say, but nearly +always our men of the Royal Flying Corps drove them back. We came as +close, just then, to having command of the air in that sector as any +army does these days. You cannot quite command or control the air. A +few hostile flyers can get through the heaviest barrage and the +staunchest air patrol. And so, every once in a while, an alarm would +sound, and all hands would crane their necks upward to watch an +airplane flying above with an iron cross painted upon its wings. + +Then, and, as a rule, then only, fire would cease for a few minutes. +There was far less chance of detection when the guns were still. At +the height at which our archies--so the anti-aircraft guns are called +by Tommy Atkins--forced the Boche to fly there was little chance of +his observers picking out this battery, at least, against the ground. +If the guns were giving voice that chance was tripled--and so they +stopped, at such times, until a British flyer had had time to engage +the Hun and either bring him down or send him scurrying for the safe +shelter behind his own lines. + +Fritz, in the air, liked to have the odds with him, as a rule. It was +exceptional to find a German flyer like Boelke who really went in for +single-handed duels in the air. As a rule they preferred to attack a +single plane with half a dozen, and so make as sure as they could of +victory at a minimum of risk. But that policy did not always work-- +sometimes the lone British flyer came out ahead, despite the odds +against him. + +There was a good deal of firing on general principles from Fritz. His +shells came wandering querulously about, striking on every side of +the battery. Occasionally, of course, there was a hit that was +direct, or nearly so. And then, as a rule, a new mound or two would +appear in the little cemetery, and a new set of crosses that, for a +few days, you might easily enough have marked for new because they +would not be weathered yet. But such hits were few and far between, +and they were lucky, casual shots, of which the Germans themselves +did not have the satisfaction of knowing. + +"Of course, if they get our range, really, and find out all about us, +we'll have to move," said the officer in command. "That would be a +bore, but it couldn't be helped. We're a fixed target, you see, as +soon as they know just where we are, and they can turn loose a +battery of heavy howitzers against us and clear us out of here in no +time. But we're pretty quick movers when we have to move! It's great +sport, in a way too, sometimes. We leave all the camouflage behind, +and some-times Fritz will spend a week shelling a position that was +moved away at the first shell that came as if it meant they really +were on to us." + +I wondered how a battery commander would determine the difference +between a casual hit and the first shell of a bombardment definitely +planned and accurately placed. + +"You can tell, as a rule, if you know the game," he said. "There'll +be searching shells, you see. There'll be one too far, perhaps. And +then, after a pretty exact interval, there'll be another, maybe a bit +short. Then one to the left--and then to the right. By that time +we're off as a rule--we don't wait for the one that will be scored a +hit! If you're quick, you see, you can beat Fritz to it by keeping +your eyes open, and being ready to move in a hurry when he's got a +really good argument to make you do it." + +But while I was there, while Fritz was inquisitive enough, his +curiosity got him nowhere. There were no casual hits, even, and there +was nothing to make the battery feel that it must be making ready for +a quick trek. + +Was that no a weird, strange game of hide and seek that I watched +being played at Vimy Ridge? It gave me the creeps, that idea of +battling with an enemy you could not see! It must be hard, at times, +I think, for, the gunners to realize that they are actually at war. +But, no--there is always the drone and the squawking of the German +shells, and the plop-plop, from time to time, as one finds its mark +in the mud nearby. But to think of shooting always at an enemy you +cannot see! + +It brought to my mind a tale I had heard at hame in Scotland. There +was a hospital in Glasgow, and there a man who had gone to see a +friend stopped, suddenly, in amazement, at the side of a cot. He +looked down at features that were familiar to him. The man in the cot +was not looking at him, and the visitor stood gaping, staring at him +in the utmost astonishment and doubt. + +"I say, man," he asked, at last, "are ye not Tamson, the baker?" + +The wounded man opened his eyes, and looked up, weakly. + +"Aye," he said. "I'm Tamson, the baker." His voice was weak, and he +looked tired. But he looked puzzled, too. + +"Weel, Tamson, man, what's the matter wi' ye?" asked the other. "I +didna hear that ye were sick or hurt. How comes it ye are here? Can +it be that ye ha' been to the war, man, and we not hearing of it, +at all?" + +"Aye, I think so," said Tamson, still weakly, but as if he were +rather glad of a chance to talk, at that. + +"Ye think so?" asked his friend, in greater astonishment than ever. +"Man, if ye've been to the war do ye not know it for sure and +certain?" + +"Well, I will tell ye how it is," said Tamson, very slowly and +wearily. "I was in the reserve, do ye ken. And I was standin' in +front of my hoose one day in August, thinkin' of nothin' at all. I +marked a man who was coming doon the street, wi' a blue paper in his +hand, and studyin' the numbers on the doorplates. But I paid no great +heed to him until he stopped and spoke to me. + +"He had stopped outside my hoose and looked at the number, and then +at his blue paper. And then he turned to me. + +"'Are ye Tamson, the baker?' he asked me--just as ye asked me that +same question the noo. + +"And I said to him, just as I said it to ye, 'Aye, I'm Tamson, +the baker.' + +"'Then it's Hamilton Barracks for ye, Tamson,' he said, and handed me +the blue paper. + +"Four hours from the time when he handed me the blue paper in front +of my hoose in Glasgow I was at Hamilton Barracks. In twelve hours I +was in Southhampton. In twenty hours I was in France. And aboot as +soon as I got there I was in a lot of shooting and running this way +and that that they ha' told me since was the Battle of the Marne. + +"And in twenty-four hours more I was on my way back to Glasgow! In +forty-eight hours I woke up in Stobe Hill Infirmary and the nurse was +saying in my ear: 'Ye're all richt the noon, Tamson. We ha' only just +amputated your leg!' + +"So I think I ha' been to the war, but I can only say I think so. I +only know what I was told--that ha' never seen a damn German yet!" + +That is a true story of Tamson the baker. And his experience has +actually been shared by many a poor fellow--and by many another who +might have counted himself lucky if he had lost no more than a leg, +as Tamson did. + +But the laddies of my battery, though they were shooting now at +Germans they could not see, had had many a close up view of Fritz in +the past, and expected many another in the future. Maybe they will +get one, some time, after the fashion of the company of which my boy +John once told me. + +The captain of this company--a Hieland company, it was, though not of +John's regiment--had spent must of his time in London before the war, +and belonged to several clubs, which, in those days, employed many +Germans as servants and waiters. He was a big man, and he had a deep, +bass voice, so that he roared like the bull of Bashan when he had a +mind to raise it for all to hear. + +One day things were dull in his sector. The front line trench was not +far from that of the Germans, but there was no activity beyond that +of the snipers, and the Germans were being so cautious that ours were +getting mighty few shots. The captain was bored, and so were the men. + +"How would you like a pot shot, lads?" he asked. + +"Fine!" came the answer. "Fine, sir!" + +"Very well," said the captain. "Get ready with your rifles, and keep +your eyes on you trench." + +It was not more than thirty yards away--pointblank range. The captain +waited until they were ready. And then his voice rang out in its +loudest, most commanding roar. + +"Waiter!" he shouted. + +Forty helmets popped up over the German parapet, and a storm of +bullets swept them away! + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +It was getting late--for men who had had so early a breakfast as we +had had to make to get started in good time. And just as I was +beginning to feel hungry--odd, it seemed to me, that such a thing as +lunch should stay in my mind in such surroundings and when so many +vastly more important things were afoot!--the major looked at his +wrist watch. + +"By Jove!" he said, "Lunch time! Gentlemen--you'll accept such +hospitality as we can offer you at our officer's mess?" + +There wasn't any question about acceptance! We all said we were +delighted, and we meant it. I looked around for a hut or some such +place, or even for a tent, and, seeing nothing of the sort, wondered +where we might be going to eat. I soon found out. The major led the +way underground, into a dugout. This was the mess. It was hard by the +guns, and in a hole that had been dug out, quit literally. Here there +was a certain degree of safety. In these dugouts every phase of the +battery's life except the actual serving of the guns went on. +Officers and men alike ate and slept in them. + +They were much snugger within than you might fancy. A lot of the men +had given homelike touches to their habitations. Pictures cut from +the illustrated papers at home, which are such prime favorites with +all the Tommies made up a large part of the decorative scheme. +Pictures of actresses predominated; the Tommies didn't go in for war +pictures. Indeed, there is little disposition to hammer the war home +at you in a dugout. The men don't talk about it or think about, save +as they must; you hear less talk about the war along the front than +you do at home. I heard a story at Vimy Ridge of a Tommy who had come +back to the trenches after seeing Blighty for the first time in +months. + +"Hello, Bill," said one of his mates. "Back again, are you? How's +things in Blighty?" "Oh, all right," said Bill. + +Then he looked around. He pricked his ears as a shell whined above +him. And he took out his pipe and stuffed it full of tobacco, and +lighted it, and sat back. He sighed in the deepest content as the +smoke began to curl upward. + +"Bli'me, Bill--I'd say, to look at you, you was glad to be back +here!" said his mate, astonished. + +"Well, I ain't so sorry, and that's a fact," said Bill. "I tell you +how it is, Alf. Back there in Blighty they don't talk about nothing +but this bloody war. I'm fair fed up with it, that I am! I'm glad to +be back here, where I don't have to 'ear about the war every bleedin' +minute!" + +That story sounds far fetched to you, perhaps, but it isn't. War talk +is shop talk to the men who are fighting it and winning it, and it is +perfectly true and perfectly reasonable, too, that they like to get +away from it when they can, just as any man likes to get away from +the thought of his business or his work when he isn't at the office +or the factory or the shop. + +Captain Godfrey explained to me, as we went into the mess hall for +lunch, that the dugouts were really pretty safe. Of course there were +dangers--where are there not along that strip of land that runs from +the North Sea to Switzerland in France and Belgium? + +"A direct hit from a big enough shell would bury us all," he said. +"But that's not likely--the chances are all against it. And, even +then, we'd have a chance. I've seen men dug out alive from a hole +like this after a shell from one of their biggest howitzers had +landed square upon it." + +But I had no anxiety to form part of an experiment to prove the truth +or the falsity of that suggestion! I was glad to know that the +chances of a shell's coming along were pretty slim. + +Conditions were primitive at that mess. The refinements of life were +lacking, to be sure--but who cared? Certainly the hungry members of +the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour did not! We ate from a rough +deal table, sitting on rude benches that had a decidedly home-made +look. But--we had music with our meals, just like the folks in London +at the Savoy or in New York at Sherry's! It was the incessant thunder +of the guns that served as the musical accompaniment of our lunch, +and I was already growing to love that music. I could begin, now, to +distinguish degrees of sound and modulations of all sorts in the +mighty diapason of the cannon. It was as if a conductor were leading +an orchestra, and as if it responded instantly to every suggestion of +his baton. + +There was not much variety to the food, but there was plenty of it, +and it was good. There was bully beef, of course; that is the real +staff of life for the British army. And there were potatoes, in +plentiful supply, and bread and butter, and tea--there is always tea +where Tommy or his officers are about! There was a lack of table +ware; a dainty soul might not have liked the thought of spreading his +butter on his bread with his thumb, as we had to do. But I was too +hungry to be fastidious, myself. + +Because the mess had guests there was a special dish in our honor. +One of the men had gone over--at considerable risk of his life, as I +learned later--to the heap of stones and dust that had once been the +village of Givenchy. There he had found a lot of gooseberries. The +French call them grossets, as we in Scotland do, too--although the +pronunciation of the word is different in the two languages, of +course. There had been gardens around the houses of Givenchy once, +before the place had been made into a desert of rubble and brickdust. +And, somehow, life had survived in those bruised and battered +gardens, and the delicious mess of gooseberries that we had for +dessert stood as proof thereof. + +The meal was seasoned by good talk. I love to hear the young British +officers talk. It is a liberal education. They have grown so wise, +those boys! Those of them who come back when the war is over will +have the world at their feet, indeed. Nothing will be able to stop +them or to check them in their rise. They have learned every great +lesson that a man must learn if he is to succeed in the affairs of +life. Self control is theirs, and an infinite patience, and a dogged +determination that refuses to admit that there are any things that a +man cannot do if he only makes up his mind that he must and will do +them. For the British army has accomplished the impossible, time +after time; it has done things that men knew could not be done. + +And so we sat and talked, as we smoked, after the meal, until the +major rose, at last, and invited me to walk around the battery again +with him. I could ask questions now, having seen the men at work, and +he explained many things I wanted to know--and which Fritz would like +to know, too, to this day! But above all I was fascinated by the work +of the gunners. I kept trying, in my mind's eye, to follow the course +of the shells that were dispatched so calmly upon their errands of +destruction. My imagination played with the thought of what they were +doing at the other end of their swift voyage through the air. I +pictured the havoc that must be wrought when one made a clean hit. + +And, suddenly, I was swept by that same almost irresistible desire to +be fighting myself that had come over me when I had seen the other +battery. If I could only play my part! If I could fire even a single +shot--if I, with my own hands, could do that much against those who +had killed my boy! And then, incredulously, I heard the words in my +ear. It was the major. + +"Would you like to try a shot, Harry?" he asked me. + +Would I? I stared at him. I couldn't believe my ears. It was as if he +had read my thoughts. I gasped out some sort of an affirmative. My +blood was boiling at the very thought, and the sweat started from my +pores. + +"All right--nothing easier!" said the major, smiling. "I had an idea +you were wanting to take a hand, Harry." + +He led me toward one of the guns, where the sweating crew was +especially active, as it seemed to me. They grinned at me as they saw +me coming. + +"Here's old Harry Lauder come to take a crack at them himself," I +heard one man say to another. + +"Good for him! The more the merrier!" answered his mate. He was an +American--would ye no know it from his speech? + +I was trembling with eagerness. I wondered if my shot would tell. I +tried to visualize its consequences. It might strike some vital spot. +It might kill some man whose life was of the utmost value to the +enemy. It might--it might do anything! And I knew that my shot would +be watched; Normabell, sitting up there on the Pimple in his little +observatory, would watch it, as he did all of that battery's shots. +Would be make a report? + +Everything was made ready. The gun recoiled from the previous shot; +swiftly it was swabbed out. A new shell was handed up; I looked it +over tenderly. That was my shell! I watched the men as they placed it +and saw it disappear with a jerk. Then came the swift sighting of the +gun, the almost inperceptible corrections of elevation and position. + +They showed me my place. After all, it was the simplest of matters to +fire even the biggest of guns. I had but to pull a lever. All morning +I had been watching men do that. I knew it was but a perfunctory act. +But I could not feel that! I was thrilled and excited as I had never +been in all my life before. + +"All ready! Fire!" + +The order rang in my ears. And I pulled the lever, as hard as I +could. The great gun sprang into life as I moved the lever. I heard +the roar of the explosion, and it seemed to me that it was a louder +bark than any gun I had heard had given! It was not, of course, and +so, down in my heart, I knew. There was no shade of variation between +that shot and all the others that had been fired. But it pleased me +to think so--it pleases me, sometimes, to think so even now. Just as +it pleases me to think that that long snouted engine of war propelled +that shell, under my guiding hand, with unwonted accuracy and +effectiveness! Perhaps I was childish, to feel as I did; indeed, I +have no doubt that that was so. But I dinna care! + +There was no report by telephone from Normabell about that particular +shot; I hung about a while, by the telephone listeners, hoping one +would come. And it disappointed me that no attention was paid to +that shot. + +"Probably simply means it went home," said Godfrey. "A shot that acts +just as it should doesn't get reported." + +But I was disappointed, just the same. And yet the sensation is one I +shall never forget, and I shall never cease to be glad that the major +gave me my chance. The most thrilling moment was that of the recoil +of the great gun. I felt exactly as one does when one dives into deep +water from a considerable height. + +"Good work, Harry!" said the major, warmly, when I had stepped down. +"I'll wager you wiped out a bit of the German trenches with that +shot! I think I'll draft you and keep you here as a gunner!" + +And the officers and men all spoke in the same way, smiling as they +did so. But I hae me doots! I'd like to think I did real damage with +my one shot, but I'm afraid my shell was just one of those that +turned up a bit of dirt and made one of those small brown eruptions I +had seen rising on all sides along the German lines as I had sat and +smoked my pipe with Normabell earlier in the day. + +"Well, anyway," I said, exultingly, "that's that! I hope I got two +for my one, at least!" + +But my exultation did not last long. I reflected upon the +inscrutability of war and of this deadly fighting that was going on +all about me. How casual a matter was this sending out of a shell +that could, in a flash of time, obliterate all that lived in a wide +circle about where it chanced to strike! The pulling of a lever--that +was all that I had done! And at any moment a shell some German gunner +had sent winging its way through the air in precisely that same, +casual fashion might come tearing into this quiet nook, guided by +some chance, lucky for him, and wipe out the major, and all the +pleasant boys with whom I had broken bread just now, and the sweating +gunners who had cheered me on as I fired my shot! + +I was to give a concert for this battery, and I felt that it was +time, now, for it to begin. I could see, too, that the men were +growing a bit impatient. And so I said that I was ready. + +"Then come along to our theater," said the major, and grinned at my +look of astonishment. + +"Oh, we've got a real amphitheater for you, such as the Greeks used +for the tragedies of Sophocles!" he said. "There it is!" + +He had not stretched the truth. It was a superb theater--a great, +crater-like hole in the ground. Certainly it was as well ventilated a +show house as you could hope for, and I found, when the time came, +that the acoustics were splendid. I went down into the middle of the +hole, with Hogge and Adam, who had become part of my company, and the +soldiers grouped themselves about its rim. + +Before we left Boulogne a definite programme had been laid out for +the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour. We had decided that we would +get better results by adopting a programme and sticking to it at all +our meetings or concerts. So, at all the assemblies that we gathered, +Hogge opened proceedings by talking to the men about pensions, the +subject in which he was so vitally interested, and in which he had +done and was doing such magnificent work. Adam would follow him with +a talk about the war and its progress. + +He was a splendid speaker, was Adam. He had all the eloquence of the +fine preacher that he was, but he did not preach to the lads in the +trenches--not he! He told them about the war, and about the way the +folks at hame in Britain were backing them up. He talked about war +loans and food conservation, and made them understand that it was not +they alone who were doing the fighting. It was a cheering and an +inspiring talk he gave them, and he got good round applause wherever +he spoke. + +They saved me up for the last, and when Adam had finished speaking +either he or Hogge would introduce me, and my singing would begin. +That was the programme we had arranged for the Hole-in-the-Ground +Theater, as the Canadians called their amphitheater. For this +performance, of course, I had no piano. Johnson and the wee +instrument were back where we had left the motor cars, and so I just +had to sing without an accompaniment--except that which the great +booming of the guns was to furnish me. + +I was afraid at first that the guns would bother me. But as I +listened to Hogge and Adam I ceased, gradually, to notice them at +all, and I soon felt that they would annoy me no more, when it was my +turn to go on, than the chatter of a bunch of stage hands in the +wings of a theater had so often done. + +When it was my turn I began with "Roamin' In the Gloamin'." The verse +went well, and I swung into the chorus. I had picked the song to open +with because I knew the soldiers were pretty sure to know it, and so +would join me in the chorus--which is something I always want them to +do. And these were no exceptions to the general rule. But, just as I +got into the chorus, the tune of the guns changed. They had been +coughing and spitting intermittently, but now, suddenly, it seemed to +me that it was as if someone had kicked the lid off the fireworks +factory and dropped a lighted torch inside. + +Every gun in the battery around the hole began whanging away at once. +I was jumpy and nervous, I'll admit, and it was all I could do to +hold to the pitch and not break the time. I thought all of Von +Hindenburg's army must be attacking us, and, from the row and din, +I judged he must have brought up some of the German navy to help, +instead of letting it lie in the Kiel canal where the British +fleet could not get at it. I never heard such a terrific racket +in all my days. + +I took the opportunity to look around at my audience. They didn't +seem to be a bit excited. They all had their eyes fixed on me, and +they weren't listening to the guns--only to me and my singing. And +so, as they probably knew what was afoot, and took it so quietly, I +managed to keep on singing as if I, too, were used to such a row, and +thought no more of it than of the ordinary traffic noise of a London +or a Glasgow street. But if I really managed to look that way my +appearances were most deceptive, because I was nearer to being scared +than I had been at any time yet! + +But presently I began to get interested in the noise of the guns. +They developed a certain regular rhythm. I had to allow for it, and +make it fit the time of what I was singing. And as I realized that +probably this was just a part of the regular day's work, a bit of +ordinary strafing, and not a feature of a grand attack, I took note +of the rhythm. It went something like this, as near as I can gie it +to you in print: + +"Roamin' in the--PUH--LAH--gloamin'--BAM! + +"On the--WHUFF!--BOOM!--bonny--BR-R-R!--banks o'--BIFF--Clyde--ZOW!" + +And so it went all through the rest of the concert. I had to adjust +each song I sang to that odd rhythm of the guns, and I don't know but +what it was just as well that Johnson wasn't there! He'd have had +trouble staying with me with his wee bit piano, I'm thinkin'! + +And, do you ken, I got to see, after a bit, that it was the gunners, +all the time, havin' a bit of fun with me! For when I sang a verse +the guns behaved themselves, but every time I came to the chorus they +started up the same inferno of noise again. I think they wanted to +see, at first, if they could no shake me enough to make me stop +singing, and they liked me the better when they found I would no +stop. The soldiers soon began to laugh, but the joke was not all on +me, and I could see that they understood that, and were pleased. +Indeed, it was all as amusing to me as to them. + +I doubt if "Roamin' in the Gloamin'" or any other song was ever sung +in such circumstances. I sang several more songs--they called, as +every audience I have seems to do, for me to sing my "Wee Hoose Amang +the Heather"--and then Captain Godfrey brought the concert to an end. +It was getting along toward midafternoon, and he explained that we +had another call to make before dark. + +"Good-by, Harry--good luck to you! Thanks for the singing!" + +Such cries rose from all sides, and the Canadians came crowding +around to shake my hand. It was touching to see how pleased they +were, and it made me rejoice that I had been able to come. I had +thought, sometimes, that it might be a presumptuous thing, in a way, +for me to want to go so near the front, but the way I had been able +to cheer up the lonely, dull routine of that battery went far to +justify me in coming, I thought. + +I was sorry to be leaving the Canadians. And I was glad to see that +they seemed as sorry to have me go as I was to be going. I have a +very great fondness for the Canadian soldier. He is certainly one of +the most picturesque and interesting of all the men who are fighting +under the flags of the Allies, and it is certain that the world can +never forget the record he has made in this war--a record of courage +and heroism unexcelled by any and equaled by few. + +I stood around while we were getting ready to start back to the cars, +and one of the officers was with me. + +"How often do you get a shell right inside the pit here?" I asked +him. "A fair hit, I mean?" + +"Oh, I don't know!" he said, slowly. He looked around. "You know that +hole you were singing in just now?" + +I nodded. I had guessed that it had been made by a shell. + +"Well, that's the result of a Boche shell," he said. "If you'd come +yesterday we'd have had to find another place for your concert!" + +"Oh--is that so!" I said. + +"Aye," he said, and grinned. "We didn't tell you before, Harry, +because we didn't want you to feel nervous, or anything like that, +while you were singing. But it was obliging of Fritz--now wasn't it? +Think of having him take all the trouble to dig out a fine theater +for us that way!" + +"It was obliging of him, to be sure," I said, rather dryly. + +"That's what we said," said the officer. "Why, as soon as I saw the +hole that shell had made, I said to Campbell: 'By Jove--there's +the very place for Harry Lauder's concert to-morrow!' And he agreed +with me!" + +Now it was time for handshaking and good-bys. I said farewell all +around, and wished good luck to that brave battery, so cunningly +hidden away in its pit. There was a great deal of cheery shouting and +waving of hands as we went off. And in two minutes the battery was +out of sight--even though we knew exactly where it was! + +We made our way slowly back, through the lengthening shadows, over +the shell-pitted ground. The motor cars were waiting, and Johnson, +too. Everything was shipshape and ready for a new start, and we +climbed in. + +As we drove off I looked back at Vimy Ridge. And I continued to gaze +at it for a long time. No longer did it disappoint me. No longer did +I regard it as an insignificant hillock. All that feeling that had +come to me with my first sight of it had been banished by my +introduction to the famous ridge itself. + +It had spoken to me eloquently, despite the muteness of the myriad +tongues it had. It had graven deep into my heart the realization of +its true place in history. + +An excrescence in a flat country--a little hump of ground! That is +all there is to Vimy Ridge. Aye! It does not stand so high above the +ground of Flanders as would the books that will be written about it +in the future, were you to pile them all up together when the last +one of them is printed! But what a monument it is to bravery and to +sacrifice--to all that is best in this human race of ours! + +No human hands have ever reared such a monument as that ridge is and +will be. There some of the greatest deeds in history were done--some +of the noblest acts that there is record of performed. There men +lived and died gloriously in their brief moment of climax--the moment +for which, all unknowing, all their lives before that day of battle +had been lived. + +I took off my cap as I looked back, with a gesture and a thought of +deep and solemn reverence. And so I said good-by to Vimy Ridge, and +to the brave men I had known there--living and dead. For I felt that +I had come to know some of the dead as well as the living. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"You'll see another phase of the front now, Harry," said Captain +Godfrey, as I turned my eyes to the front once more. + +"What's the next stop?" I asked. + +"We're heading for a rest billet behind the lines. There'll be lots +of men there who are just out of the trenches. It's a ghastly strain +for even the best and most seasoned troops--this work in the +trenches. So, after a battalion has been in for a certain length of +time, it's pulled out and sent back to a rest billet." + +"What do they do there?" I asked. + +"Well, they don't loaf--there's none of that in the British army, +these days! But it's paradise, after the trenches. For one thing +there isn't the constant danger there is up front. The men aren't +under steady fire. Of course, there's always the chance of a bomb +dropping raid by a Taube or a Fokker. The men get a chance to clean +up. They get baths, and their clothes are cleaned and disinfected. +They get rid of the cooties--you know what they are?" + +I could guess. The plague of vermin in the trenches is one of the +minor horrors of war. + +"They do a lot of drilling," Godfrey went on. "Except for those times +in the rest billets, regiments might get a bit slack. In the +trenches, you see, the routine is strict, but it's different. Men are +much more on their own. There aren't any inspections of kit and all +that sort of thing--not for neatness, anyway. + +"And it's a good thing for soldiers to be neat. It helps discipline. +And discipline, in time of war, isn't just a parade-ground matter. It +means lives--every time. Your disciplined man, who's trained to do +certain things automatically, is the man you can depend on in any +sort of emergency. + +"That's the thing that the Canadians and the Australians have had to +learn since they came out. There never were any braver troops than +those in the world, but at first they didn't have the automatic +discipline they needed. That'll be the first problem in training the +new American armies, too. It's a highly practical matter. And so, in +the rest billets, they drill the men a goodish bit. It keeps up the +morale, and makes them fitter and keener for the work when they go +back to the trenches." + +"You don't make it sound much like a real rest for them," I said. + +"Oh, but it is, all right! They have a comfortable place to sleep. +They get better food. The men in the trenches get the best food it's +possible to give them, but it can't be cooked much, for there aren't +facilities. The diet gets pretty monotonous. In the rest billets they +get more variety. And they have plenty of free time, and there are +hours when they can go to the estaminet--there's always one handy, a +sort of pub, you know--and buy things for themselves. Oh, they have a +pretty good time, as you'll see, in a rest billet." + +I had to take his word for it. We went bowling along at a good speed, +but pretty soon we encountered a detachment of Somerset men. They +halted when they spied our caravan, and so did we. As usual they +recognized us. + +"You'm Harry Lauder!" said one of them, in the broad accent of his +country. "Us has seen 'ee often!" + +Johnson was out already, and he and the drivers were unlimbering the +wee piano. It didn't take so long, now that we were getting used to +the task, to make ready for a roadside concert. While I waited I +talked to the men. They were on their way to Ypres. Tommy can't get +the name right, and long ago ceased trying to do so. The French and +Belgians call it "Eepre"--that's as near as I can give it to you in +print, at least. But Tommy, as all the world must know by now, calls +it Wipers, and that is another name that will live as long as British +history is told. + +The Somerset men squatted in the road while I sang my songs for them, +and gave me their most rapt attention. It was hugely gratifying and +flattering, the silence that always descended upon an audience of +soldiers when I sang. There were never any interruptions. But at the +end of a song, and during the chorus, which they always wanted to +sing with me, as I wanted them to do, too, they made up for their +silence. + +Soon the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour was on its way again. The +cheers of the Somerset men sounded gayly in our ears, and the cars +quickly picked up speed and began to mop up the miles at a great +rate. And then, suddenly--whoa! We were in the midst of soldiers +again. This time it was a bunch of motor repair men. + +They wandered along the roads, working on the trucks and cars that +were abandoned when they got into trouble, and left along the side of +the road. We had seen scores of such wrecks that day, and I had +wondered if they were left there indefinitely. Far from it, as I +learned now. Squads like this--there were two hundred men in this +particular party--were always at work. Many of the cars they salvaged +without difficulty--those that had been abandoned because of +comparatively minor engine troubles or defects. Others had to be +towed to a repair shop, or loaded upon other trucks for the journey, +if their wheels were out of commission. + +Others still were beyond repair. They had been utterly smashed in a +collision, maybe, or as a result of skidding. Or they had burned. +Sometimes they had been knocked off the road and generally +demoralized by a shell. And in such cases often, all that men such as +these we had met now could do was to retrieve some parts to be used +in repairing other cars in a less hopeless state. + +By this time Johnson and the two soldier chauffeurs had reduced the +business of setting our stage to a fine point. It took us but a very +few minutes indeed to be ready for a concert, and from the time when +we sighted a potential audience to the moment for the opening number +was an almost incredibly brief period. This time that was a good +thing, for it was growing late. And so, although the repair men were +loath to let me go, it was but an abbreviated programme that I was +able to offer them. This was one of the most enthusiastic audiences I +had had yet, for nearly every man there, it turned out, had been what +Americans would call a Harry Lauder fan in the old days. They had +been wont to go again and again to hear me. I wanted to stay and sing +more songs for them, but Captain Godfrey was in charge, and I had to +obey his orders, reluctant though I was to go on. + +Our destination was a town called Aubigny--rather an old chateau just +outside the town. Aubigny was the billet of the Fifteenth Division, +then in rest. Many officers were quartered in the chateau, as the +guests of its French owners, who remained in possession, having +refused to clear out, despite the nearness of the actual fighting +front. + +This was a Scots division, I was glad to find. I heard good Scots +talk all around me when I arrived, and it was Scottish hospitality, +mingled with French, that awaited us. I know no finer combination, +nor one more warming to the cockles of a man's heart. + +Here there was luxury, compared to what I had seen that day. As +Godfrey had warned me, the idea of resting that the troops had was a +bit more strenuous than mine would be. There was no lying and lolling +about. Hot though the weather was a deal of football was played, and +there were games of one sort and another going on nearly all the time +when the men were off duty. + +This division, I learned, had seen some of the hardest and bloodiest +fighting of the whole war. They had been through the great offensive +that had pivoted on Arras, and had been sorely knocked about. They +had well earned such rest as was coming to them now, and they were +getting ready, in the most cheerful way you can imagine, for their +next tour of duty in the trenches. They knew about how much time they +would have, and they made the best use they could of it. + +New drafts were coming out daily from home to fill up their sadly +depleted ranks. The new men were quickly drawn in and assimilated +into organizations that had been reduced to mere skeletons. New +officers were getting acquainted with their men; that wonderful thing +that is called esprit de corps was being made all around me. It is a +great sight to watch it in the making; it helps you to understand the +victories our laddies have won. + +I was glad to see the kilted men of the Scots regiments all about me. +It was them, after all, that I had come to see. I wanted to talk to +them, and see them here, in France. I had seen them at hame, flocking +to the recruiting offices. I had seen them in their training camps. +But this was different. I love all the soldiers of the Empire, but it +is natural, is it no, that my warmest feeling should be for the +laddies who wear the kilt. + +They were the most cheerful souls, as I saw them when we reached +their rest camp, that you could imagine. They were laughing and +joking all about us, and when they heard that the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour had arrived they crowded about us to see. They +wanted to make sure that I was there, and I was greeted in all sorts +of dialect that sounded enough, I'll be bound, to Godfrey and some of +the rest of our party. There were even men who spoke to me in the +Gaelic. + +I saw a good deal, afterward, of these Scots troops. My, how hard +they did work while they rested! And what chances they took of broken +bones and bruises in their play! Ye would think, would ye no, that +they had enough of that in the trenches, where they got lumps and +bruises and sorer hurts in the run of duty? But no. So soon as they +came back to their rest billets they must begin to play by knocking +the skin and the hair off one another at sports of various sorts, of +which football was among the mildest, that are not by any means to be +recommended to those of a delicate fiber. + +Some of the men I met at Aubigny had been out since Mons--some of the +old kilted regiments of the old regular army, they were. Away back in +those desperate days the Germans had dubbed them the ladies from +Hell, on account of their kilts. Some of the Germans really thought +they were women! That was learned from prisoners. Since Mons they +have been out, and auld Scotland has poured out men by the scores of +thousands, as fast as they were needed, to fill the gaps the German +shells and bullets have torn in the Scots ranks. Aye--since Mons, and +they will be there at the finish, when it comes, please God! + +There have always been Scots regiments in the British army, ever +since the day when King Jamie the Sixth, of Scotland, of the famous +and unhappy house of Stuart, became King James the First of England. +The kilted regiments, the Highlanders, belonging to the immortal +Highland Brigade, include the Gordon Highlanders, the Forty-second, +the world famous Black Watch, as it is better known than by its +numbered designation, the Seaforth Highlanders, and the Argyle and +Sutherland regiment, or the Princess Louise's Own. That was the +regiment to a territorial battalion of which my boy John belonged at +the outbreak of the war, and with which he served until he was killed. + +Some of those old, famous regiments have been wiped out half a dozen +times, almost literally annihilated, since Mons. New drafts, and the +addition of territorial battalions, have replenished them and kept up +their strength, and the continuity of their tradition has never been +broken. The men who compose a regiment may be wiped out, but the +regiment survives. It is an organization, an entity, a creature with +a soul as well as a body. And the Germans have no discovered a way +yet of killing the soul! They can do dreadful things to the bodies of +men and women, but their souls are safe from them. + +Of course there are Scots regiments that are not kilted and that have +naught to do with the Hielanders, who have given as fine and brave an +account of themselves as any. There are the Scots Guards, one of the +regiments of the Guards Brigade, the very pick and flower of the +British army. There are the King's Own Scottish Borderers, with as +fine a history and tradition as any regiment in the army, and a +record of service of which any regiment might well be proud; the +Scots Fusiliers, the Royal Scots, the Scottish Rifles, and the Scots +Greys, of Crimean fame--the only cavalry regiment from Scotland. + +Since this war began other Highland regiments have been raised beside +those originally included in the Highland Brigade. There are Scots +from Canada who wear the kilt and their own tartan and cap. Every +Highland regiment, of course, has its own distinguishing tartan and +cap. One of the proudest moments of my life came when I heard that +the ninth battalion of the Highland Light Infantry, which was raised +in Glasgow, but has its depot, where its recruits and new drafts are +trained, at Hamilton, was known as the Harry Landers. That was +because they had adopted the Balmoral cap, with dice, that had become +associated with me because I had worn it so often and so long on the +stage in singing one of my most famous and successful songs, "I Love +a Lassie." + +But in the trenches, of course, the Hieland troops all look alike. +They cling to their kilts--or, rather, their kilts cling to them--but +kilts and jackets are all of khaki. If they wore the bright plaids of +the tartans they would be much too conspicuous a mark for the +Germans, and so they have to forswear their much loved colors when +they are actually at grips with Fritz. + +I wear the kilt nearly always, myself, as I have said. Partly I do so +because it is my native costume, and I am proud of my Highland birth; +partly because I revel in the comfort of the costume. But it brings +me some amusing experiences. Very often I am asked a question that +is, I presume, fired at many a Hieland soldier, intimate though it is. + +"I say, Harry," someone will ask me, "you wear the kilt. Do you not +wear anything underneath it?" + +I do, myself. I wear a very short pair of trunks, chiefly for reasons +of modesty. So do some of the soldiers. But if they do they must +provide it for themselves; no such garment is served out to them with +their uniform. And so the vast majority of the men wear nothing but +their skins under the kilt. He is bare, that is, from the waist to +the hose--except for the kilt. But that is garment enough! I'll tell +ye so, and I'm thinkin' I know! + +So clad the Highland soldier is a great deal more comfortable and a +great deal more sanely dressed, I believe, than the city dweller who +is trousered and underweared within an inch of his life. I think it +is a matter of medical record, that can be verified from the reports +of the army surgeons, that the kilted troops are among the healthiest +in the whole army. I know that the Highland troops are much less +subject to abdominal troubles of all sorts--colic and the like. The +kilt lies snug and warm around the stomach, in several thick layers, +and a more perfect protection from the cold has never been devised +for that highly delicate and susceptible region of the human anatomy. + +Women, particularly, are always asking me another question. I have +seen them eyeing me, in cold weather, when I was walkin' around, +comfortably, in my kilt. And their eyes would wander to my knees, and +I would know before they opened their mouths what it was that they +were going to say. + +"Oh, Mr. Lauder," they would ask me. "Don't your poor knees get cold-- +with no coverings, exposed to this bitter cold?" + +Well, they never have! That's all I can tell you. They have had the +chance, in all sorts of bitter weather. I am not thinking only of the +comparitively mild winters of Britain--although, up north, in +Scotland, we get some pretty severe winter weather. But I have been +in Western Canada, and in the northwestern states of the United +States, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, where the thermometer drops +far below zero. And my knees have never been cold yet. They do not +suffer from the cold any more than does my face, which is as little +covered and protected as they--and for the same reason, I suppose. +They are used to the weather. + +And when it comes to the general question of health, I am certain, +from my own experience, that the kilt is best. Several times, for one +reason or another, I have laid my kilts aside and put on trousers. +And each time I have been seized by violent colds, and my life has +been made wretched. A good many soldiers of my acquaintance have had +the same experience. + +Practical reasons aside, however, the Scots soldier loves his kilt, +and would fight like a steer to keep from having it taken away from +him, should anyone be so foolish as to try such a performance. He +loves it, not only because it is warm and comfortable, but because it +is indistinguishably associated in his mind with some of the most +glorious pages of Scottish history. It is a sign and symbol of his +hameland to him. There have been times, in Scotland, when all was not +as peaceful in the country's relations with England as it now is, +when the loyal Scot who wore the kilt did so knowing that he might be +tried for his life for doing so, since death had been the penalty +appointed for that "crime." + +Aye, it is peace and friendship now between Scot and Englishman. But +that is not to say that there is no a friendly rivalry between them +still. English regiments and Scots regiments have a lot of fun with +one another, and a bit rough it gets, too, at times. But it is all in +fun, and there is no harm done. I have in mind a tale an officer told +me--though the men of whom he told it did not know that an officer +had any inkling of the story. + +The English soldiers are very fond of harping on the old idea of the +difficulty of making a Scotsman see a joke. That is a base slander, +I'll say, but no matter. There were two regiments in rest close to +one another, one English and one Scots. They met at the estaminet or +pub in the nearby town. And one day the Englishman put up a great +joke on some of the Scots, and did get a little proof of that pet +idea of theirs, for the Scots were slow to see the joke. + +Ah, weel, that was enough! For days the English rang the changes on +that joke, teasing the Hielanders and making sport of them. But at +last, when the worst of the tormentors were all assembled together, +two of the Scots came into the room where they were havin' a wee +drappie. + +"Mon, Sandy," said one of them, shaking his head, "I've been thinking +what a sad thing that would be! I hope it will no come to pass." + +"Aye, that would be a sore business, indeed, Tam," said Sandy, and +he, too, shook his head. + +And so they went on. The Englishmen stood it as long as they could +and then one turned to Sandy. + +"What is it would be such a bad business?" he asked. + +"Mon-mon," said Sandy. "We've been thinking, Tam and I, what would +become of England, should Scotland make a separate peace?" + +And it was generally conceded that the last laugh was with the Scots +in that affair! + +My boy, John, had the same love for the kilt that I had. He was proud +and glad to wear the kilt, and to lead men who did the same. While he +was in training at Bedford he organized a corps of cyclists for +dispatch-bearing work. He was a crack cyclist himself, and it was a +sport of which he was passionately fond. So he took a great interest +in the corps, and it soon gained wide fame for its efficiency. So +true was that that the authorities took note of the corps, and of +John, who was responsible for it, and he was asked to go to France to +take charge of organizing a similar corps behind the front. But that +would have involved a transfer to a different branch of the army, and +detachment from his regiment. And--it would have meant that he must +doff his kilt. Since he had the chance to decline--it was an offer, +not an order, that had come to him--he did, that he might keep his +kilt and stay with his own men. + +To my eyes there is no spectacle that begins to be so imposing as the +sight of a parade of Scottish troops in full uniform. And it is the +unanimous testimony of German prisoners that this war has brought +them no more terrifying sight than the charge of a kilted regiment. +The Highlanders come leaping forward, their bayonets gleaming, +shouting old battle cries that rang through the glens years and +centuries ago, and that have come down to the descendants of the +warriors of an ancient time. The Highlanders love to use cold steel; +the claymore was their old weapon, and the bayonet is its nearest +equivalent in modern war. They are master hands with that, too--and +the bayonet is the one thing the Hun has no stomach for at all. + +Fritz is brave enough when he is under such cover and shelter as the +trenches give. And he has shown a sort of stubborn courage when +attacking in massed formations--the Germans have made terrible +sacrifices, at times, in their offensive efforts. But his blood turns +to water in his veins when he sees the big braw laddies from the +Hielands come swooping toward him, their kilts flapping and their +bayonets shining in whatever light there is. Then he is mighty quick +to throw up his hands and shout: "Kamerad! Kamerad!" + +I might go on all night telling you some of the stories I heard along +the front about the Scottish soldiers. They illustrate and explain +every phase of his character. They exploit his humor, despite that +base slander to which I have already referred, his courage, his +stoicism. And, of course, a vast fund of stories has sprung up that +deals with the proverbial thrift of the Scot! There was one tale that +will bear repeating, perhaps. + +Two Highlanders had captured a chicken--a live chicken, not +particularly fat, it may be, even a bit scrawny, but still, a live +chicken. That was a prize, since the bird seemed to have no owner who +might get them into trouble with the military police. One was for +killing and eating the fowl at once. But the other would have none of +such a summary plan. + +"No, no, Jimmy," he said, pleadingly, holding the chicken +protectingly. "Let's keep her until morning, and may be we will ha' +an egg as well!" + +[ILLUSTRATION: "'Make us laugh again, Harry!' Though I remember my +son and want to join the ranks, I have obeyed." LAUDER ADDRESSING +BRITISH TROOPS BEHIND THE LINES IN FRANCE (See Lauder08.jpg)] + +The other British soldiers call the Scots Jock, invariably. The +Englishman, or a soldier from Wales or Ireland, as a rule, is called +Tommy--after the well-known M. Thomas Atkins. Sometimes, an Irishman +will be Paddy and a Welshman Taffy. But the Scot is always Jock. + +Jock gave us a grand welcome at Aubigny. We were all pretty tired, +but when they told me I could have an audience of seven thousand +Scots soldiers I forgot my weariness, and Hogge, Adam and I, to say +nothing of Johnson and the wee piano, cleared for action, as you +might say. The concert was given in the picturesque grounds of the +chateau, which had been less harshly treated by the war than many +such beautiful old places. It was a great experience to sing to so +many men; it was far and away the largest house we had had since we +had landed at Boulogne. + +After we left Aubigny, the chateau and that great audience, we drove +on as quickly as we could, since it was now late, to the headquarters +of General Mac----, commanding the Fifteenth Division--to which, of +course, the men whom we had just been entertaining belonged. I was to +meet the general upon my arrival. + +That was a strange ride. It was pitch dark, and we had some distance +to go. There were mighty few lights in evidence; you do not advertise +a road to Fritz's airplanes when you are traveling roads anywhere +near the front, for he has guns of long range, that can at times +manage to strafe a road that is supposed to be beyond the zone of +fire with a good deal of effect I have seldom seen a blacker night +than that. Objects along the side of the road were nothing but +shapeless lumps, and I did not see how our drivers could manage at +all to find their way. + +They seemed to have no difficulty, however, but got along swimmingly. +Indeed, they traveled faster than they had in daylight. Perhaps that +was because we were not meeting troops to hold us up along this road; +I believe that, if we had, we should have stopped and given them a +concert, even though Johnson could not have seen the keys of his piano! + +It was just as well, however. I was delighted at the reception that +had been given to the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour all through +our first day in France. But I was also extremely tired, and the +dinner and bed that loomed up ahead of us, at the end of our long +ride through the dark, took on an aspect of enchantment as we neared +them. My voice, used as I was to doing a great deal of singing, was +fagged, and Hogge and Dr. Adam were so hoarse that they could +scarcely speak at all. Even Johnson was pretty well done up; he was +still, theoretically, at least, on the sick list, of course. And I +ha' no doot that the wee piano felt it was entitled to its rest, too! + +So we were all mighty glad when the cars stopped at last. + +"Well, here we are!" said Captain Godfrey, who was the freshest of us +all. "This is Tramecourt--General Headquarters for the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour while you are in France, gentlemen. They have +special facilities for visitors here, and unless one of Fritz's +airplanes feels disposed to drop a bomb or two, you won't be under +fire, at night at least. Of course, in the daytime. . ." + +He shrugged his shoulders. For our plans did not involve a search for +safe places. Still, it was pleasant to know that we might sleep in +fair comfort. + +General Mac---- was waiting to welcome us, and told us that dinner +was ready and waiting, which we were all glad to hear. It had been a +long, hard day, although the most interesting one, by far, that I had +ever spent. + +We made short work of dinner, and soon afterward they took us to our +rooms. I don't know what Hogge and Dr. Adam did, but I know I looked +happily at the comfortable bed that was in my room. And I slept +easily and without being rocked to sleep that nicht! + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Though we were out of the zone of fire--except for stray activities +in which Boche airplanes might indulge themselves, as our hosts were +frequently likely to remind us, lest we fancy ourselves too secure, I +suppose--we were by no means out of hearing of the grim work that was +going on a few miles away. The big guns, of course, are placed well +behind the front line trenches, and we could hear their sullen, +constant quarreling with Fritz and his artillery. The rumble of the +Hun guns came to us, too. But that is a sound to which you soon get +used, out there in France. You pay no more heed to it than you do to +the noise the 'buses make in London or the trams in Glasgow. + +In the morning I got my first chance really to see Tramecourt. The +chateau is a lovely one, a fine example of such places. It had not +been knocked about at all, and it looked much as it must have done in +times of peace. Practically all the old furniture was still in the +rooms, and there were some fine old pictures on the walls that it +gave me great delight to see. Indeed, the rare old atmosphere of the +chateau was restful and delightful in a way that surprised me. + +I had been in the presence of real war for just one day. And yet I +took pleasure in seeing again the comforts and some of the luxuries +of peace! That gave me an idea of what this sort of place must mean +to men from the trenches. It must seem like a bit of heaven to them +to come back to Aubigny or Tramecourt! Think of the contrast. + +The chateau, which had been taken over by the British army, belonged +to the Comte de Chabot, or, rather, to his wife, who had been +Marquise de Tramecourt, one of the French families of the old regime. +Although the old nobility of France has ceased to have any legal +existence under the Republic the old titles are still used as a +matter of courtesy, and they have a real meaning and value. This was +a pleasant place, this chateau of Tramecourt; I should like to see it +again in days of peace, for then it must be even more delightful than +it was when I came to know it so well. + +Tramecourt was to be our home, the headquarters of the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour, during the rest of our stay at the front. We were +to start out each morning, in the cars, to cover the ground appointed +for that day, and to return at night. But it was understood that +there would be days when we would get too far away to return at night, +and other sleeping quarters would be provided on such occasions. + +I grew very fond of the place while I was there. The steady pounding +of the guns did not disturb my peace of nights, as a rule. But there +was one night when I did lie awake for hours, listening. Even to my +unpracticed ear there was a different quality in the sound of the +cannon that night. It had a fury, an intensity, that went beyond +anything I had heard. And later I learned that I had made no mistake +in thinking that there was something unusual and portentous about the +fire that night. What I had listened to was the preliminary drum fire +and bombardment that prepared the way for the great attack at +Messines, near Ypres--the most terrific bombardment recorded in all +history, up to that time. + +The fire that night was like a guttural chant. It had a real rhythm; +the beat of the guns could almost be counted. And at dawn there came +the terrific explosion of the great mine that had been prepared, +which was the signal for the charge. Mr. Lloyd-George, I am told, +knowing the exact moment at which the mine was to be exploded, was +awake, at home in England, and heard it, across the channel, and so +did many folk who did not have his exceptional sources of +information. I was one of them! And I wondered greatly until I was +told what had been done. That was one of the most brilliantly and +successfully executed attacks of the whole war, and vastly important +in its results, although it was, compared to the great battles on the +Somme and up north, near Arras, only a small and minor operation. + +We settled down, very quickly indeed, into a regular routine. Captain +Godfrey was, for all the world, like the manager of a traveling +company in America. He mapped out our routes, and he took care of all +the details. No troupe, covering a long route of one night stands in +the Western or Southern United States, ever worked harder than did +Hogge, Adam and I--to say nothing of Godfrey and our soldier +chauffeurs. We did not lie abed late in the mornings, but were up +soon after daylight. Breakfast out of the way, we would find the cars +waiting and be off. + +We had, always, a definite route mapped out for the day, but we never +adhered to it exactly. I was still particularly pleased with the idea +of giving a roadside concert whenever an audience appeared, and there +was no lack of willing listeners. Soon after we had set out from +Tramecourt, no matter in which direction we happened to be going, we +were sure to run into some body of soldiers. + +There was no longer any need of orders. As soon as the chauffeur of +the leading car spied a blotch of khaki against the road, on went his +brakes, and we would come sliding into the midst of the troops and +stop. Johnson would be out before his car had fairly stopped, and at +work upon the lashings of the little piano, with me to help him. And +Hogge would already be clearing his throat to begin his speech. + +The Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour, employed no press agent, and +it could not boast of a bill poster. No hoardings were covered with +great colored sheets advertising its coming. And yet the whole front +seemed to know that we were about. The soldiers we met along the +roads welcomed us gladly, but they were no longer, after the first +day or two, surprised to see us. They acted, rather, as if they had +been expecting us. Our advent was like that of a circus, coming to a +country town for a long heralded and advertised engagement. Yet all +the puffing that we got was by word of mouth. + +There were some wonderful choruses along those war-worn roads we +traveled. "Roamin' in the Gloamin'" was still my featured song, and +all the soldiers seemed to know the tune and the words, and to take a +particular delight in coming in with me as I swung into the chorus. +We never passed a detachment of soldiers without stopping to give +them a concert, no matter how it disarranged Captain Godfrey's plans. +But he was entirely willing. It was these men, on their way to the +trenches, or on the way out of them, bound for rest billets, whom, of +course, I was most anxious to reach, since I felt that they were the +ones I was most likely to be able to help and cheer up. + +The scheduled concerts were practically all at the various rest +billets we visited. These were, in the main, at chateaux. Always, at +such a place, I had a double audience. The soldiers would make a +great ring, as close to me as they could get, and around them, again, +in a sort of outer circle, were French villagers and peasants, vastly +puzzled and mystified, but eager to be pleased, and very ready with +their applause. + +It must have been hard for them to make up their minds about me, if +they gave me much thought. My kilt confused them; most of them +thought I was a soldier from some regiment they had not yet seen, +wearing a new and strange uniform. For my kilt, I need not say, was +not military, nor was the rest of my garb warlike! + +I gave, during that time, as many as seven concerts in a day. I have +sung as often as thirty-five times in one day, and on such occasions +I was thankful that I had a strong and durable voice, not easily worn +out, as well as a stout physique. Hogge and Dr. Adam appeared as +often as I did, but they didn't have to sing! + +Nearly all the songs I gave them were ditties they had known for a +long time. The one exception was the tune that had been so popular in +"Three Cheers"--the one called "The Laddies Who Fought and Won." Few +of the boys had been home since I had been singing that song, but it +has a catching lilt, and they were soon able to join in the chorus +and send it thundering along. They took to it, too--and well they +might! It was of such as they that it was written. + +We covered perhaps a hundred miles a day during this period. That +does not sound like a great distance for high-powered motor cars, but +we did a good deal of stopping, you see, here and there and +everywhere. We were roaming around in the backwater of war, you might +say. We were out of the main stream of carnage, but it was not out of +our minds and our hearts. Evidences of it in plenty came to us each +day. And each day we were a little nearer to the front line trenches +than we had come the day before. We were working gradually toward +that climax that I had been promised. + +I was always eager to talk to officers and men, and I found many +chances to do so. It seemed to me that I could never learn enough +about the soldiers. I listened avidly to every story that was told +to me, and was always asking for more. The younger officers, +especially, it interested me to talk with. One day I was talking +to such a lieutenant. + +"How is the spirit of your men?" I asked him. I am going to tell you +his answer, just as he made it. + +"Their spirit?" he said, musingly. "Well, just before we came to this +billet to rest we were in a tightish corner on the Somme. One of my +youngest men was hit--a shell came near to taking his arm clean off, +so that it was left just hanging to his shoulders. He was only about +eighteen years old, poor chap. It was a bad wound, but, as sometimes +happens, it didn't make him unconscious--then. And when he realized +what had happened to him, and saw his arm hanging limp, so that he +could know he was bound to lose it, he began to cry. + +"'What's the trouble?' I asked him, hurrying over to him. I was sorry +enough for him, but you've got to keep up the morale of your men. +'Soldiers don't cry when they're wounded, my lad.' + +"'I'm not crying because I'm wounded, sir!' he fired back at me. And +I won't say he was quite as respectful as a private is supposed to be +when he's talking to an officer! 'Just take a look at that, sir!' And +he pointed to his wound. And then he cried out: + +"'And I haven't killed a German yet!' he said, bitterly. 'Isn't that +hard lines, sir?' + +"That is the spirit of my men!" + +I made many good friends while I was roaming around the country just +behind the front. I wonder how many of them I shall keep--how many of +them death will spare to shake my hand again when peace is restored! +There was a Gordon Highlander, a fine young officer, of whom I became +particularly fond while I was at Tramecourt. I had a very long talk +with him, and I thought of him often, afterward, because he made me +think of John. He was just such a fine young type of Briton as my boy +had been. + +Months later, when I was back in Britain, and giving a performance at +Manchester, there was a knock at the door of my dressing-room. + +"Come in!" I called. + +The door was pushed open and a man came in with great blue glasses +covering his eyes. He had a stick, and he groped his way toward me. I +did not know him at all at first--and then, suddenly, with a shock, I +recognized him as my fine young Gordon Highlander of the rest billet +near Tramecourt. + +"My God--it's you, Mac!" I said, deeply shocked. + +"Yes," he said, quietly. His voice had changed, greatly. "Yes, it's +I, Harry." + +He was almost totally blind, and he did not know whether his eyes +would get better or worse. + +"Do you remember all the lads you met at the billet where you came to +sing for us the first time I met you, Harry?" he asked me. "Well, +they're all gone--I'm the only one who's left--the only one!" + +There was grief in his voice. But there was nothing like complaint, +nor was there, nor self-pity, either, when he told me about his eyes +and his doubts as to whether he would ever really see again. He +passed his own troubles off lightly, as if they did not matter at +all. He preferred to tell me about those of his friends whom I had +met, and to give me the story of how this one and that one had gone. +And he is like many another. I know a great many men who have been +maimed in the war, but I have still to hear one of them complain. +They were brave enough, God knows, in battle, but I think they are +far braver when they come home, shattered and smashed, and do naught +but smile at their troubles. + +The only sort of complaining you hear from British soldiers is over +minor discomforts in the field. Tommy and Jock will grouse when they +are so disposed. They will growl about the food and about this +trivial trouble and that. But it is never about a really serious +matter that you hear them talking! + +I have never yet met a man who had been permanently disabled who was +not grieving because he could not go back. And it is strange but true +that men on leave get homesick for the trenches sometimes. They miss +the companionships they have had in the trenches. I think it must be +because all the best men in the world are in France that they feel +so. But it is true, I know, because I have not heard it once, but a +dozen times. + +Men will dream of home and Blighty for weeks and months. They will +grouse because they cannot get leave--though, half the time, they +have not even asked for it, because they feel that their place is +where the fighting is! And then, when they do get that longed-for +leave, they are half sorry to go--and they come back like boys coming +home from school! + +A great reward awaits the men who fight through this war and emerge +alive and triumphant at its end. They will dictate the conduct of the +world for many a year. The men who stayed at home when they should +have gone may as well prepare to drop their voices to a very low +whisper in the affairs of mankind. For the men who will be heard, who +will make themselves heard, are out there in France. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +It was seven o'clock in the morning of a Godly and a beautiful day +when we set out from Tramecourt for Arras. Arras, that town so famous +now in British history and in the annals of this war, had been one of +our principal objectives from the outset, but we had not known when +we were to see it. Arras had been the pivot of the great northern +drive in the spring--the drive that Hindenburg had fondly supposed he +had spoiled by his "strategic" retreat in the region of the Somme, +begun just before the British and the French were ready to attack. + +What a bonnie morning that was, to be sure! The sun was out, after +some rainy days, and glad we all were to see it. The land was sprayed +with silver light; the air was as sweet and as soft and as warm as a +baby's breath. And the cars seemed to leap forward, as if they, too, +loved the day and the air. They ate up the road. They seemed to take +hold of its long, smooth surface--they are grand roads, over you, in +France--and reel it up in underneath their wheels as if it were a tape. + +This time we did little stopping, no matter how good the reason looked. +We went hurtling through villages and towns we had not seen before. +Our horn and our siren shrieked a warning as we shot through. And it +seemed wrong. They looked so peaceful and so quiet, did those French +towns, on that summer's morning! Peaceful, aye, and languorous, after +all the bustle and haste we had been seeing. The houses were set in +pretty encasements of bright foliage and they looked as though they had +been painted against the background of the landscape with water colors. + +It was hard to believe that war had passed that way. It had; there +were traces everywhere of its grim visitation. But here its heavy +hand had been laid lightly upon town and village. It was as if a wave +of poison gas of the sort the Germans brought into war had been +turned aside by a friendly breeze, arising in the very nick of time. +Little harm had been done along the road we traveled. But the thunder +of the guns was always in our ears; we could hear the steady, +throbbing rhythm of the cannon, muttering away to the north and east. + +It was very warm, and so, after a time, as we passed through a +village, someone--Hogge, I think--suggested that a bottle of ginger +beer all around would not be amiss. The idea seemed to be regarded as +an excellent one, so Godfrey spoke to the chauffeur beside him, and +we stopped. We had not known, at first, that there were troops in +town. But there were--Highlanders. And they came swarming out. I was +recognized at once. + +"Well, here's old Harry Lauder!" cried one braw laddie. + +"Come on, Harry--gie us a song!" they shouted. "Let's have 'Roamin' in +the Gloamin', Harry! Gie us the Bonnie Lassie! We ha' na' heard 'The +Laddies Who Fought and Won,' Harry. They tell us that's a braw song!" + +We were not really supposed to give any roadside concerts that day, +but how was I to resist them? So we pulled up into a tiny side +street, just off the market square, and I sang several songs for +them. We saved time by not unlimbering the wee piano, and I sang, +without accompaniment, standing up in the car. But they seemed to be +as well pleased as though I had had the orchestra of a big theater to +support me, and all the accompaniments and trappings of the stage. +They were very loath to let me go, and I don't know how much time we +really saved by not giving our full and regular programme. For, +before I had done, they had me telling stories, too. Captain Godfrey +was smiling, but he was glancing at his watch too, and he nudged me, +at last, and made me realize that it was time for us to go on, no +matter how interesting it might be to stay. + +"I'll be good," I promised, with a grin, as we drove on. "We shall go +straight on to Arras now!" + +But we did not. We met a bunch of engineers on the road, after a +space, and they looked so wistful when we told them we maun be +getting right along, without stopping to sing for them, that I had +not the heart to disappoint them. So we got out the wee piano and I +sang them a few songs. It seemed to mean so much to those boys along +the roads! I think they enjoyed the concerts even more than did the +great gatherings that were assembled for me at the rest camps. A +concert was more of a surprise for them, more of a treat. The other +laddies liked them, too--aye, they liked them fine. But they would +have been prepared, sometimes; they would have been looking forward +to the fun. And the laddies along the roads took them as a man takes +a grand bit of scenery, coming before his eyes, suddenly, as he turns +a bend in a road he does not ken. + +As for myself, I felt that I was becoming quite a proficient open-air +performer by now. My voice was standing the strain of singing under +such novel and difficult conditions much better than I had thought it +could. And I saw that I must be at heart and by nature a minstrel! I +know I got more pleasure from those concerts I gave as a minstrel +wandering in France than did the soldiers or any of those who heard me! + +I have been before the public for many years. Applause has always +been sweet to me. It is to any artist, and when one tells you it is +not you may set it down in your hearts that he or she is telling less +than the truth. It is the breath of life to us to know that folks are +pleased by what we do for them. Why else would we go on about our +tasks? I have had much applause. I have had many honors. I have told +you about that great and overwhelming reception that greeted me when +I sailed into Sydney Harbor. In Britain, in America, I have had +greetings that have brought tears into my eye and such a lump into +my throat that until it had gone down I could not sing or say a word +of thanks. + +But never has applause sounded so sweet to me as it did along those +dusty roads in France, with the poppies gleaming red and the +cornflowers blue through the yellow fields of grain beside the roads! +They cheered me, do you ken--those tired and dusty heroes of Britain +along the French roads! They cheered as they squatted down in a +circle about us, me in my kilt, and Johnson tinkling away as if his +very life depended upon it, at his wee piano! Ah, those wonderful, +wonderful soldiers! The tears come into my eyes, and my heart is sore +and heavy within me when I think that mine was the last voice many of +them ever heard lifted in song! They were on their way to the +trenches, so many of those laddies who stopped for a song along the +road. And when men are going into the trenches they know, and all who +see them passing know, that some there are who will never come out. + +Despite all the interruptions, though, it was not much after noon +when we reached Blangy. Here, in that suburb of Arras, were the +headquarters of the Ninth Division, and as I stepped out of the car I +thrilled to the knowledge that I was treading ground forever to be +famous as the starting-point of the Highland Brigade in the attack of +April 9, 1917. + +And now I saw Arras, and, for the first time, a town that had been +systematically and ruthlessly shelled. There are no words in any +tongue I know to give you a fitting picture of the devastation of +Arras. "Awful" is a puny word, a thin one, a feeble one. I pick +impotently at the cover-lid of my imagination when I try to frame +language to make you understand what it was I saw when I came to +Arras on that bright June day. + +I think the old city of Arras should never be rebuilt. I doubt if it +can be rebuilt, indeed. But I think that, whether or no, a golden +fence should be built around it, and it should forever and for all +time be preserved as a monument to the wanton wickedness of the Hun. +It should serve and stand, in its stark desolation, as a tribute, +dedicated to the Kultur of Germany. No painter could depict the +frightfulness of that city of the dead. No camera could make you see +as it is. Only your eyes can do that for you. And even then you +cannot realize it all at once. Your eyes are more merciful than the +truth and the Hun. + +The Germans shelled Arras long after there was any military reason +for doing so. The sheer, wanton love of destruction must have moved +them. They had destroyed its military usefulness, but still they +poured shot and shell into the town. I went through its streets--the +Germans had been pushed back so far by then that the city was no +longer under steady fire. But they had done their work! + +Nobody was living in Arras. No one could have lived there. The houses +had been smashed to pieces. The pavements were dust and rubble. But +there was life in the city. Through the ruins our men moved as +ceaselessly and as restlessly as the tenants of an ant hill suddenly +upturned by a plowshare. Soldiers were everywhere, and guns--guns, +guns! For Arras had a new importance now. It was a center for many +roads. Some of the most important supply roads of this sector of the +front converged in Arras. + +Trains of ammunition trucks, supply carts and wagons of all sorts, +great trucks laden with jam and meat and flour, all were passing +every moment. There was an incessant din of horses' feet and the +steady crunch--crunch of heavy boots as the soldiers marched through +the rubble and the brickdust. And I knew that all this had gone on +while the town was still under fire. Indeed, even now, an occasional +shell from some huge gun came crashing into the town, and there would +be a new cloud of dust arising to mark its landing, a new collapse of +some weakened wall. Warning signs were everywhere about, bidding all +who saw them to beware of the imminent collapse of some heap of masonry. + +I saw what the Germans had left of the stately old Cathedral, and of +the famous Cloth Hall--one of the very finest examples of the guild +halls of medieval times. Goths--Vandals--no, it is unfair to seek +such names for the Germans. They have established themselves as the +masters of all time in brutality and in destruction. There is no need +to call them anything but Germans. The Cloth Hall was almost human in +its pitiful appeal to the senses and the imagination. The German fire +had picked it to pieces, so that it stood in a stark outline, like +some carcase picked bare by a vulture. + +Our soldiers who were quartered nearby lived outside the town in +huts. They were the men of the Highland Brigade, and the ones I had +hoped and wished, above all others, to meet when I came to France. +They received our party with the greatest enthusiasm, and they were +especially flattering when they greeted me. One of the Highland +officers took me in hand immediately, to show me the battlefield. + +The ground over which we moved had literally been churned by +shell-fire. It was neither dirt nor mud that we walked upon; it was a +sort of powder. The very soil had been decomposed into a fine dust by +the terrific pounding it had received. The dust rose and got into our +eyes and mouths and nostrils. There was a lot of sneezing among the +members of the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour that day at Arras! +And the wire! It was strewn in every direction, with seeming +aimlessness. Heavily barbed it was, and bad stuff to get caught in. +One of the great reasons for the preliminary bombardment that usually +precedes an attack is to cut this wire. If charging men are caught in +a bad tangle of wire they can be wiped out by machine gun-fire before +they can get clear. + +I asked a Highlander, one day, how long he thought the war would last. + +"Forty years," he said, never batting an eyelid. "We'll be fighting +another year, and then it'll tak us thirty-nine years more to wind up +all the wire!" + +Off to my right there was a network of steel strands, and as I gazed +at it I saw a small dark object hanging from it and fluttering in the +breeze. I was curious enough to go over, and I picked my way +carefully through the maze-like network of wire to see what it might +be. When I came close I saw it was a bit of cloth, and immediately I +recognized the tartan of the Black Watch--the famous Forty-second. +Mud and blood held that bit of cloth fastened to the wire, as if by a +cement. Plainly, it had been torn from a kilt. + +I stood for a moment, looking down at that bit of tartan, flapping in +the soft summer breeze. And as I stood I could look out and over the +landscape, dotted with a very forest of little wooden crosses, that +marked the last resting-place of the men who had charged across this +maze of wire and died within it. They rose, did those rough crosses, +like sheathed swords out of the wild, luxurious jungle of grass that +had grown up in that blood-drenched soil. I wondered if the owner of +the bit of tartan were still safe or if he lay under one of the +crosses that I saw. + +There was room for sad speculation here! Who had he been? Had he +swept on, leaving that bit of his kilt as evidence of his passing? +Had he been one of those who had come through the attack, gloriously, +to victory, so that he could look back upon that day so long as he +lived? Or was he dead--perhaps within a hundred yards of where I +stood and gazed down at that relic of him? Had he folks at hame in +Scotland who had gone through days of anguish on his account--such +days of anguish as I had known? + + +[ILLUSTRATION: Berlin struck off this medal when the "Lusitania" was +sunk: on one side the brutal catastrophe, on the other the grinning +death's head Teutonically exultant. "And so now I preach the war on +the Hun my own way," says Harry Lauder. (See Lauder09.jpg)] + +[ILLUSTRATION: HARRY LAUDER "Laird of Dunoon." (See Lauder10.jpg)] + + +I asked a soldier for some wire clippers, and I cut the wire on +either side of that bit of tartan, and took it, just as it was. And +as I put the wee bit of a brave man's kilt away I kissed the +blood-stained tartan, for Auld Lang Syne, and thought of what a tale +it could tell if it could only speak! + + "Ha' ye seen a' the men frae the braes and the glen, + Ha' ye seen them a' marchin' awa'? + Ha' ye seen a' the men frae the wee but-an'-ben, + And the gallants frae mansion and ha'?" + +I have said before that I do not want to tell you of the tales of +atrocities that I heard in France. I heard plenty--ayes and terrible +they were! But I dinna wish to harrow the feelings of those who read +more than I need, and I will leave that task to those who saw for +themselves with their eyes, when I had but my ears to serve me. Yet +there was one blood-chilling story that my boy John told to me, and +that the finding of that bit of Black Watch tartan brings to my mind. +He told it to me as we sat before the fire in my wee hoose at Dunoon, +just a few nights before he went back to the front for the last time. +We were talking of the war--what else was there to talk aboot? + +It was seldom that John touched on the harsher things he knew about +the war. He preferred, as a rule, to tell me stories of the courage +and the devotion of his men, and of the light way that they turned +things when there was so much chance for grief and care. + +"One night, Dad," he said, "we had a battalion of the Black Watch on +our right, and they made a pretty big raid on the German trenches. It +developed into a sizable action for any other war, but one trifling +enough and unimportant in this one. The Germans had been readier than +the Black Watch had supposed, and had reinforcements ready, and sixty +of the Highlanders were captured. The Germans took them back into +their trenches, and stripped them to the skin. Not a stitch or a rag +of clothing did they leave them, and, though it was April, it was a +bitter night, with a wind to cut even a man warmly clad to the bone. + +"All night they kept them there, standing at attention, stark naked, +so that they were half-frozen when the gray, cold light of the dawn +began to show behind them in the east. And then the Germans laughed, +and told their prisoners to go. + +"'Go on--go back to your own trenches, as you are!' they said. + +"The laddies of the Black Watch could scarcely believe their ears. +There was about seventy-five yards between the two trench lines at +that point, and the No Man's Land was rough going--all shell-pitted +as it was. By that time, too, of course, German repair parties had +mended all the wire before their trenches. So they faced a rough +journey, all naked as they were. But they started. + +"They got through the wire, with the Germans laughing fit to kill +themselves at the sight of the streaks of blood showing on their +white skins as the wire got in its work. They laughed at them, Dad! +And then, when they were halfway across the No Man's Land they +understood, at last, why the Germans had let them go. For fire was +opened on them with machine guns. Everyone was mowed down--everyone +of those poor, naked, bleeding lads was killed--murdered by that +treacherous fire from behind! + +"We heard all the details of that dirty bit of treachery later. We +captured some German prisoners from that very trench. Fritz is a +decent enough sort, sometimes, and there were men there whose +stomachs were turned by that sight, so that they were glad to creep +over, later, and surrender. They told us, with tears in their eyes. +But we had known, before that. We had needed no witnesses except the +bodies of the boys. It had been too dark for the men in our trenches +to see what was going on--and a burst of machine gun-fire, along the +trenches, is nothing to get curious or excited about. But those naked +bodies, lying there in the No Man's Land, had told us a good deal. + +"Dad--that was an awful sight! I was in command of one of the burying +parties we had to send out." + +That was the tale I thought of when I found that bit of the Black +Watch tartan. And I remembered, too, that it was with the Black Watch +that John Poe, the famous American football player from Princeton, +met his death in a charge. He had been offered a commission, but he +preferred to stay with the boys in the ranks. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +We left our motor cars behind us in Arras, for to-day we were to go +to a front-line trench, and the climax of my whole trip, so far as I +could foresee, was at hand. Johnson and the wee piano had to stay +behind, too--we could not expect to carry even so tiny an instrument +as that into a front-line trench! Once more we had to don steel +helmets, but there was a great difference between these and the ones +we had had at Vimy Ridge. Mine fitted badly, and kept sliding down +over my ears, or else slipping way down to the back of my head. It +must have given me a grotesque look, and it was most uncomfortable. +So I decided I would take it off and carry it for a while. + +"You'd better keep it on, Harry," Captain Godfrey advised me. "This +district is none too safe, even right here, and it gets worse as we go +along. A whistling Percy may come along looking for you any minute." + +That is the name of a shell that is good enough to advertise its +coming by a whistling, shrieking sound. I could hear Percies +whistling all around, and see them spattering up the ground as they +struck, not so far away, but they did not seem to be coming in our +direction. So I decided I would take a chance. + +"Well," I said, as I took the steel hat off, "I'll just keep this +bonnet handy and slip it on if I see Percy coming." + +But later I was mighty glad of even an ill-fitting steel helmet! + +Several staff officers from the Highland Brigade had joined the +Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour by now. Affable, pleasant gentlemen +they were, and very eager to show us all there was to be seen. And +they had more sights to show their visitors than most hosts have! + +We were on ground now that had been held by the Germans before the +British had surged forward all along this line in the April battle. +Their old trenches, abandoned now, ran like deep fissures through the +soil. They had been pretty well blasted to pieces by the British +bombardment, but a good many of their deep, concrete dugouts had +survived. These were not being used by the British here, but were +saved in good repair as show places, and the officers who were our +guides took us down into some of them. + +Rarely comfortable they must have been, too! They had been the homes +of German officers, and the Hun officers did themselves very well +indeed when they had the chance. They had electric light in their +cave houses. To be sure they had used German wall paper, and +atrociously ugly stuff it was, too. But it pleased their taste, no +doubt. Mightily amazed some of Fritz's officers must have been, back +in April, as they sat and took their ease in these luxurious +quarters, to have Jock come tumbling in upon them, a grenade in each +hand! + +Our men might have used these dugouts, and been snug enough in them, +but they preferred air and ventilation, and lived in little huts +above the ground. I left our party and went around among them and, to +my great satisfaction, found, as I had been pretty sure I would, a +number of old acquaintances and old admirers who came crowding around +me to shake hands. I made a great collection of souvenirs here, for +they insisted on pressing trophies upon me. + +"Tak them, Harry," said one after another. "We can get plenty more +where they came from!" + +One laddie gave me a helmet with a bullet hole through the skip, and +another presented me with one of the most interesting souvenirs of +all I carried home from France. That was a German sniper's outfit. It +consisted of a suit of overalls, waterproofed. If a man had it on he +would be completely covered, from head to foot, with just a pair of +slits for his eyes to peep out of, and another for his mouth, so that +he could breathe. It was cleverly painted the color of a tree--part +of it like the bark, part green, like leaves sprouting from it. + +"Eh, Jock," I asked the laddie who gave it to me. "A thing like yon's +hard to be getting, I'm thinking?" + +"Oh, not so very hard," he answered, carelessly. "You've got to be a +good shot." And he wore medals that showed he was! "All you've got to +do, Harry, is to kill the chap inside it before he kills you! The +fellow who used to own that outfit you've got hid himself in the fork +of a tree, and, as you may guess, he looked like a branch of the tree +itself. He was pretty hard to spot. But I got suspicious of him, from +the way bullets were coming over steadily, and I decided that that +tree hid a sniper. + +"After that it was just a question of being patient. It was no so +long before I was sure, and then I waited--until I saw that branch +move as no branch of a tree ever did move. I fired then--and got him! +He was away outside of his lines, and that nicht I slipped out and +brought back this outfit. I wanted to see how it was made." + +An old, grizzled sergeant of the Black Watch gave me a German revolver. + +"How came you to get this?" I asked him. + +"It was an acceedent, Harry," he said. "We were raiding a trench, do +you ken, and I was in a sap when a German officer came along, and we +bumped into one another. He looked at me, and I at him. I think he +was goin' to say something, but I dinna ken what it was he had on his +mind. That _was_ his revolver you've got in your hand now." + +And then he thrust his hand into his pocket. + +"Here's the watch he used to carry, too," he said. It was a thick, +fat-bellied affair, of solid gold. "It's a bit too big, but it's a +rare good timekeeper." + +Soon after that an officer gave me another trophy that is, perhaps, +even more interesting than the sniper's suit. It is rarer, at least. +It is a small, sweet-toned bell that used to hang in a wee church in +the small village of Athies, on the Scarpe, about a mile and a half +from Arras. The Germans wiped out church and village, but in some odd +way they found the bell and saved it. They hung it in their trenches, +and it was used to sound a gas alarm. On both sides a signal is given +when the sentry sees that there is to be a gas attack, in order that +the men may have time to don the clumsy gas masks that are the only +protection against the deadly fumes. The wee bell is eight inches +high, maybe, and I have never heard a lovelier tone. + +"That bell has rung men to worship, and it has rung them to death," +said the officer who gave it to me. + +Presently I was called back to my party, after I had spent some time +with the lads in their huts. A general had joined the party now, and +he told me, with a smile, that I was to go up to the trenches, if I +cared to do so. I will not say I was not a bit nervous, but I was +glad to go, for a' that! It was the thing that had brought me to +France, after a'. + +So we started, and by now I was glad to wear my steel hat, fit or no +fit. I was to give an entertainment in the trenches, and so we set +out. Pretty soon I was climbing a steep railroad embankment, and when +we slid down on the other side we found the trenches--wide, deep gaps +in the earth, and all alive with men. We got into the trenches +themselves by means of ladders, and the soldiers came swarming about +me with yells of "Hello, Harry! Welcome, Harry!" + +They were told that I had come to sing for them, and so, with no +further preliminaries, I began my concert. I started with my favorite +opening song, as usual--"Roamin' in the Gloamin'," and then went on +with the other old favorites. I told a lot of stories, too, and then +I came to "The Laddies Who Fought and Won." None of the men had heard +it, but there were officers there who had seen "Three Cheers" during +the winter when they had had a short leave to run over to London. + +I got through the first verse all right, and was just swinging into +the first chorus when, without the least warning, hell popped open in +that trench. A missile came in that some officer at once hailed as a +whizz bang. It is called that, for that is just exactly the sound it +makes. It is like a giant firecracker, and it would be amusing if one +did not know it was deadly. These missiles are not fired by the big +guns behind the lines, but by the small trench cannon--worked, as a +rule, by compressed air. The range is very short, but they are +capable of great execution at that range. + +Was I frightened? I must have been! I know I felt a good deal as I +have done when I have been seasick. And I began to think at once of +all sorts of places where I would rather have been than in that +trench! I was standing on a slight elevation at the back, or parados, +of the trench, so that I was raised a bit above my audience, and I +had a fine view of that deadly thing, wandering about, spitting fire +and metal parts. It traveled so that the men could dodge it, but it +was throwing oft slugs that you could neither see nor dodge, and it +was a poor place to be! + +And the one whizz bang was not enough to suit Fritz. It was followed +immediately by a lot more, that came popping in and making themselves +as unpleasant as you could imagine. I watched the men about me, and +they seemed to be unconcerned, and to be thinking much more of me and +my singing than of the whizz bangs. So, no matter how I felt, there +was nothing for me to do but to keep on with my song. I decided that +I must really be safe enough, no matter how I felt. But I had certain +misgivings on the subject. Still, I managed to go on with my song, +and I think I was calm enough to look at--though, if I was, my +appearance wholly belied my true inward feelings. + +I struggled through to the end of the chorus--and I think I sang +pretty badly, although I don't know. But I was pretty sure the end of +the world had come for me, and that these laddies were taking things +as calmly as they were simply because they were used to it, and it +was all in the day's work for them. The Germans were fairly sluicing +that trench by now. The whizz bangs were popping over us like giant +fire-crackers, going off one and two and three at a time. And the +trench was full of flying slugs and chunks of dirt, striking against +our faces and hurtling all about us. + +There I was. I had a good "house." I wanted to please my audience. +Was it no a trying situation? I thought Fritz might have had manners +enough to wait until I had finished my concert, at least! But the Hun +has no manners, as all the world knows. + +Along that embankment we had climbed to reach the trenches, and not +very far from the bit of trench in which I was singing, there was a +railroad bridge of some strategic importance. And now a shell hit +that bridge--not a whizz bang, but a real, big shell. It exploded +with a hideous screech, as if the bridge were some human thing being +struck, and screaming out its agony. The soldiers looked at me, and I +saw some of them winking. They seemed to be mighty interested in the +way I was taking all this. I looked back at them, and then at a +Highland colonel who was listening to my singing as quietly and as +carefully as if he had been at a stall in Covent Garden during the +opera season. He caught my glance. + +"I think they're coming it a bit thick, Lauder, old chap," he +remarked, quietly. + +"I quite agree with you, colonel," I said. I tried to ape his voice +and manner, but I wasn't so quiet as he. + +Now there came a ripping, tearing sound in the air, and a veritable +cloudburst of the damnable whizz bangs broke over us. That settled +matters. There were no orders, but everyone turned, just as if it +were a meeting, and a motion to adjourn had been put and carried +unanimously. We all ran for the safety holes or dugouts in the side +of the embankment. And I can tell ye that the Reverend Harry Lauder, +M.P., Tour were no the last ones to reach those shelters! No, we were +by no means the last! + +I ha' no doot that I might have improved upon the shelter that I +found, had I had time to pick and choose. But any shelter was good +just then, and I was glad of mine, and of a chance to catch my +breath. Afterward, I saw a picture by Captain Bairnsfather that made +me laugh a good deal, because it represented so exactly the way I +felt. He had made a drawing of two Tommies in a wee bit of a hole in +a field that was being swept by shells and missiles of every sort. +One was grousing to his mate, and the other said to him: + +"If you know a better 'ole go 'ide in it!" + +I said we all turned and ran for cover. But there was one braw laddie +who did nothing of the sort. He would not run--such tricks were not +for him! + +He was a big Hie'land laddie, and he wore naught but his kilt and his +semmet--his undershirt. He had on his steel helmet, and it shaded a +face that had not been shaved or washed for days. His great, brawny +arms were folded across his chest, and he was smoking his pipe. And +he stood there as quiet and unconcerned as if he had been a village +smith gazing down a quiet country road. I watched him, and he saw me, +and grinned at me. And now and then he glanced at me, quizzically. + +"It's all right, Harry," he said, several times. "Dinna fash +yoursel', man. I'll tell ye in time for ye to duck if I see one +coming your way!" + +We crouched in our holes until there came a brief lull in the +bombardment. Probably the Germans thought they had killed us all and +cleared the trench, or maybe it had been only that they hadn't liked +my singing, and had been satisfied when they had stopped it. So we +came out, but the firing was not over at all, as we found out at +once. So we went down a bit deeper, into concrete dugouts. + +This trench had been a part of the intricate German defensive system +far back of their old front line, and they had had the pains of +building and hollowing out the fine dugout into which I now went for +shelter. Here they had lived, deep under the earth, like animals--and +with animals, too. For when I reached the bottom a dog came to meet +me, sticking out his red tongue to lick my hand, and wagging his tail +as friendly as you please. + +He was a German dog--one of the prisoners of war taken in the great +attack. His old masters hadn't bothered to call him and take him with +them when the Highlanders came along, and so he had stayed behind as +part of the spoils of the attack. + +That wasn't much of a dog, as dogs go. He was a mongrel-looking +creature, but he couldn't have been friendlier. The Highlanders had +adopted him and called him Fritz, and they were very fond of him, and +he of them. He had no thought of war. He behaved just as dogs do at hame. + +But above us the horrid din was still going on, and bits of shells +were flying everywhere--anyone of them enough to kill you, if it +struck you in the right spot. I was glad, I can tell ye, that I was +so snug and safe beneath the ground, and I had no mind at all to go +out until the bombardment was well over. I knew now what it was +really to be under fire. The casual sort of shelling I had had to +fear at Vimy Ridge was nothing to this. This was the real thing. + +And then I thought that what I was experiencing for a few minutes was +the daily portion of these laddies who were all aboot me--not for a +few minutes, but for days and weeks and months at a time. And it came +home to me again, and stronger than ever, what they were doing for us +folks at hame, and how we ought to be feeling for them. + +The heavy firing went on for three-quarters of an hour, at least. We +could hear the chugging of the big guns, and the sorrowful swishing +of the shells, as if they were mournful because they were not +wreaking more destruction than they were. It all moved me greatly, +but I could see that the soldiers thought nothing of it, and were +quite unperturbed by the fearful demonstration that was going on +above. They smoked and chatted, and my own nerves grew calmer. + +Finally there seemed to come a real lull in the row above, and I +turned to the general. + +"Isn't it near time for me to be finishing my concert, sir?" I asked +him. + +"Very good," he said, jumping up. "Just as you say, Lauder." + +So back we went to where I had begun to sing. My audience +reassembled, and I struck up "The Laddies Who Fought and Won" again. +It seemed, somehow, the most appropriate song I could have picked to +sing in that spot! I finished, this time, but there was some discord +in the closing bars, for the Germans were still at their shelling, +sporadically. + +So I finished, and I said good-by to the men who were to stay in the +trench, guarding that bit of Britain's far flung battleline. And then +the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour was ready to go back--not to +safety, at once, but to a region far less infested by the Hun than +this one where we had been such warmly received visitors! + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +I was sorry to be leaving the Highland laddies in that trench. Aye! +But for the trench itself I had nae regrets--nae, none whatever! I +know no spot on the surface of this earth, of all that I have +visited, and I have been in many climes, that struck me as less +salubrious than you bit o' trench. There were too many other visitors +there that day, along with the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour. +They were braw laddies, yo, but no what you might call +over-particular about the company they kept! I'd thank them, if they'd +be havin' me to veesit them again, to let me come by my ain! + +Getting away was not the safest business in the world, either, +although it was better than staying in yon trench. We had to make our +way back to the railway embankment, and along it for a space, and the +embankment was being heavily shelled. It was really a trench line +itself, full of dugouts, and as we made our way along heads popped in +all directions, topped by steel helmets. I was eager to be on the +other side of you embankment, although I knew well enough that there +was no sanctuary on either side of it, nor for a long space behind it. + +That was what they called the Frenchy railway cutting, and it +overlooked the ruined village of Athies. And not until after I had +crossed it was I breathing properly. I began, then, to feel more like +myself, and my heart and all my functions began to be more normal. + +All this region we had to cross now was still under fire, but the +fire was nothing to what it had been. The evidences of the terrific +bombardments there had been were plainly to be seen. Every scrap of +exposed ground had been nicked by shells; the holes were as close +together as those in a honeycomb. I could not see how any living +thing had come through that hell of fire, but many men had. Now the +embankment fairly buzzed with activity. The dugouts were everywhere, +and the way the helmeted heads popped out as we passed, inquiringly, +made me think of the prairie dog towns I had seen in Canada and the +western United States. + +The river Scarpe flowed close by. It was a narrow, sluggish stream, +and it did not look to me worthy of its famous name. But often, that +spring, its slow-moving waters had been flecked by a bloody froth, +and the bodies of brave men had been hidden by them, and washed clean +of the trench mud. Now, uninviting as its aspect was, and sinister as +were the memories it must have evoked in other hearts beside my own, +it was water. And on so hot a day water was a precious thing to men +who had been working as the laddies hereabout had worked and labored. + +So either bank was dotted with naked bodies, and the stream itself +showed head after head, and flashing white arms as men went swimming. +Some were scrubbing themselves, taking a Briton's keen delight in a +bath, no matter what the circumstances in which he gets it; others +were washing their clothes, slapping and pounding the soaked garments +in a way to have wrung the hearts of their wives, had they seen them +at it. The British soldier, in the field, does many things for +himself that folks at hame never think of! But many of the men were +just lying on the bank, sprawled out and sunning themselves like +alligators, basking in the warm sunshine and soaking up rest and +good cheer. + +It looked like a good place for a concert, and so I quickly gathered +an audience of about a thousand men from the dugouts in the +embankment and obeyed their injunctions to "Go it, Harry! Gie us a +song, do now!" + +As I finished my first song my audience applauded me and cheered me +most heartily, and the laddies along the banks of the Scarpe heard +them, and came running up to see what was afoot. There were no ladies +thereabout, and they did not stand on a small matter like getting +dressed! Not they! They came running just as they were, and Adam, +garbed in his fig leaf, was fully clad compared to most of them. It +was the barest gallery I ever saw, and the noisiest, too, and the +most truly appreciative. + +High up above us airplanes were circling, so high that we could not +tell from which side they came, except when we saw some of them being +shelled, and so knew that they belonged to Fritz. They looked like +black pinheads against the blue cushion of the sky, and no doubt that +they were vastly puzzled as to the reason of this gathering of naked +men. What new tricks were the damned English up to now? So I have no +doubt, they were wondering! It was the business of their observers, +of course, to spot just such gatherings as ours, although I did not +think of that just then--except to think that they might drop a bomb +or two, maybe. + +But scouting airplanes, such as those were, do not go in for bomb +dropping. There are three sorts of airplanes. First come the scouting +planes--fairly fast, good climbers, able to stay in the air a long +time. Their business is just to spy out the lay of the land over the +enemy's trenches--not to fight or drop bombs. Then come the swift, +powerful bombing planes, which make raids, flying long distances to +do so. The Huns use such planes to bomb unprotected towns and kill +women and babies; ours go in for bombing ammunition dumps and trains +and railway stations and other places of military importance, +although, by now, they may be indulging in reprisals for some of +Fritz's murderous raids, as so many folk at hame in Britain have +prayed they would. + +Both scouting and bombing planes are protected by the fastest flyers +of all--the battle planes, as they are called. These fight other +planes in the air, and it is the men who steer them and fight their +guns who perform the heroic exploits that you may read of every day. +But much of the great work in the air is done by the scouting planes, +which take desperate chances, and find it hard to fight back when +they are attacked. And it was scouts who were above us now--and, +doubtless, sending word back by wireless of a new and mysterious +concentration of British forces along the Scarpe, which it might be a +good thing for the Hun artillery to strafe a bit! + +So, before very long, a rude interruption came to my songs, in the +way of shells dropped unpleasantly close. The men so far above us had +given their guns the range, and so, although the gunners could not +see us, they could make their presence felt. + +I have never been booed or hissed by an audience, since I have been +on the stage. I understand that it is a terrible and a disconcerting +experience, and one calculated to play havoc with the stoutest of +nerves. It is an experience I am by no means anxious to have, I can +tell you! But I doubt if it could seem worse to me than the +interruption of a shell. The Germans, that day, showed no ear for +music, and no appreciation of art--my art, at least! + +And so it seemed well to me to cut my programme, to a certain extent, +at least, and bid farewell to my audience, dressed and undressed. It +was a performance at which it did not seem to me a good idea to take +any curtain calls. I did not miss them, nor feel slighted because +they were absent. I was too glad to get away with a whole skin! + +The shelling became very furious now. Plainly the Germans meant to +take no chances. They couldn't guess what the gathering their +airplanes had observed might portend, but, if they could, they meant +to defeat its object, whatever that might be. Well, they did not +succeed, but they probably had the satisfaction of thinking that they +had, and I, for one, do not begrudge them that. They forced the +Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour to make a pretty wide detour, away +from the river, to get back to the main road. But they fired a power +of shells to do so! + +When we finally reached the road I heard a mad sputtering behind. I +looked around in alarm, because it sounded, for all the world, like +one of those infernal whizz bangs, chasing me. But it was not. The +noise came from a motor cycle, and its rider dashed up to me and +dropped one foot to the ground. + +"Here's a letter for you, Harry," he said. + +It was a package that he handed me. I was surprised--I was not +expecting to have a post delivered to me on the battlefield of Arras! +It turned out that the package contained a couple of ugly-looking +bits of shell, and a letter from my friends the Highlanders on the +other side of the railway embankment. They wrote to thank me for +singing for them, and said they hoped I was none the worse for the +bombardment I had undergone. + +"These bits of metal are from the shell that was closest to you when +it burst," their spokesman wrote. "They nearly got you, and we +thought you'd like to have them to keep for souvenirs." + +It seemed to me that that was a singularly calm and phlegmatic +letter! My nerves were a good deal overwrought, as I can see now. + +Now we made our way slowly back to division headquarters, and there I +found that preparations had been made for very much the most +ambitious and pretentious concert that I had yet had a chance to give +in France. There was a very large audience, and a stage or platform +had been set up, with plenty of room on it for Johnson and his piano. +It had been built in a great field, and all around me, when I mounted +it, I could see kilted soldiers--almost as far as my eye could reach. +There were many thousands of them there--indeed, all of the Highland +Brigade that was not actually on duty at the moment was present, and +a good many other men beside, for good measure. + +Here was a sight to make a Scots heart leap with pride! Here, before +me, was the flower of Scottish manhood. These regiments had been +through a series of battles, not so long since, that had sadly +thinned their ranks. Many a Scottish grave had been filled that +spring; many a Scottish heart at hame had been broken by sad news +from this spot. But there they were now, before me--their ranks +filled up again, splendid as they stretched out, eager to welcome me +and cheer me. There were tears in my eyes as I looked around at them. + +Massed before me were all the best men Scotland had had to offer! All +these men had breathed deep of the hellish air of war. All had +marched shoulder to shoulder and skirt to skirt with death. All were +of my country and my people. My heart was big within me with pride of +them, and that I was of their race, as I stood up to sing for them. + +Johnson was waiting for me to be ready. Little "Tinkle Tom," as we +called the wee piano, was not very large, but there were times when +he had to be left behind. I think he was glad to have us back again, +and to be doing his part, instead of leaving me to sing alone, +without his stout help. + +Many distinguished officers were in that great assemblage. They all +turned out to hear me, as well as the men, and among them I saw many +familiar faces and old friends from hame. But there were many faces, +too, alas, that I did not see. And when I inquired for them later I +learned that many of them I had seen for the last time. Oh, the sad +news I learned, day after day, oot there in France! Friend after +friend of whom I made inquiry was known, to be sure. They could tell +me where, and when, and how, they had been killed. + +Up above us, as I began to sing, our airplanes were circling. No +Boche planes were in sight now, I had been told, but there were many +of ours. And sometimes one came swooping down, its occupants curious, +no doubt, as to what might be going on, and the hum of its huge +propeller would make me falter a bit in my song. And once or twice +one flew so low and so close that I was almost afraid it would strike +me, and I would dodge in what I think was mock alarm, much to the +amusement of the soldiers. + +I had given them two songs when a big man arose, far back in the +crowd. He was a long way from me, but his great voice carried to me +easily, so that I could hear every word he said. + +"Harry," he shouted, "sing us 'The Wee Hoose Amang the Heather' and +we'll a' join in the chorus!" + +For a moment I could only stare out at them. Between that sea of +faces, upraised to mine, and my eyes, there came another face--the +smiling, bonnie face of my boy John, that I should never see again +with mortal eyes. That had been one of his favorite songs for many +years. I hesitated. It was as if a gentle hand had plucked at my very +heart strings, and played upon them. Memory--memories of my boy, +swept over me in a flood. I felt a choking in my throat, and the +tears welled into my eyes. + +But then I began to sing, making a signal to Johnson to let me sing +alone. And when I came to the chorus, true to the big Highlander's +promise, they all did join in the chorus! And what a chorus that was! +Thousands of men were singing. + + "There's a wee hoose amang the heather, + There's a wee hoose o'er the sea. + There's a lassie in that wee hoose + Waiting patiently for me. + She's the picture of perfection-- + I would na tell a lee + If ye saw her ye would love her + Just the same as me!" + +My voice was very shaky when I came to the end of that chorus, but +the great wave of sound from the kilted laddies rolled out, true and +full, unshaken, unbroken. They carried the air as steadily as a ship +is carried upon a rolling sea. + +I could sing no more for them, and then, as I made my way, unsteadily +enough, from the platform, music struck up that was the sweetest I +could have heard. Some pipers had come together, from twa or three +regiments, unknown to me, and now, very softly, their pipes began to +skirl. They played the tune that I love best, "The Drunken Piper." I +could scarcely see to pick my way, for the tears that blinded me, but +in my ears, as I passed away from them, there came, gently wailing on +the pipes, the plaintive plea-- + + "Will ye no come back again?" + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Now it was time to take to the motor cars again, and I was glad of +the thought that we would have a bracing ride. I needed something of +the sort, I thought. My emotions had been deeply stirred, in many +ways, that day. I felt tired and quite exhausted. This was by all +odds the most strenuous day the Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour had +put in yet in France. So I welcomed the idea of sitting back +comfortably in the car and feeling the cool wind against my cheeks. + +First, however, the entertainers were to be entertained. They took +us, the officers of the divisional staff, to a hut, where we were +offered our choice of tea or a wee hauf yin. There was good Scots +whisky there, but it was the tea I wanted. It was very hot in the +sun, and I had done a deal of clambering about. So I was glad, after +all, to stay in the shade a while and rest my limbs. + +Getting out through Arras turned out to be a ticklish business. The +Germans were verra wasteful o' their shells that day, considering how +much siller they cost! They were pounding away, and more shells, by a +good many, were falling in Arras than had been the case when we +arrived at noon. So I got a chance to see how the ruin that had been +wrought had been accomplished. + +Arras is a wonderful sight, noble and impressive even in its +destruction. But it was a sight that depressed me. It had angered me, +at first, but now I began to think, at each ruined house that I saw: +"Suppose this were at hame in Scotland!" And when such thoughts came +to me I thanked God for the brave lads I had seen that day who stood, +out here, holding the line, and so formed a bulwark between Scotland +and such black ruin as this. + +We were to start for Tramecourt now, but on the way we were to make a +couple of stops. Our way was to take us through St. Pol and Hesdin, +and, going so, we came to the town of Le Quesnoy. Here some of the +11th Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders were stationed. My heart +leaped at the sight of them. That had been my boy's regiment, +although he had belonged to a different battalion, and it was with +the best will in the world that I called a halt and gave them a +concert. + +I gave two more concerts, both brief ones, on the rest of the +journey, and so it was quite dark when we approached the chateau at +Tramecourt. As we came up I became aware of a great stir and movement +that was quite out of the ordinary routine there. In the grounds I +could see tiny lights moving about, like fireflies--lights that came, +I thought, from electric torches. + +"Something extraordinary must be going on here," I remarked to Captain +Godfrey. "I wonder if General Haig has arrived, by any chance?" + +"We'll soon know what it's all about," he said, philosophically. But +I expect he knew already. + +Before the chateau there was a brilliant spot of light, standing out +vividly against the surrounding darkness. I could not account for +that brilliantly lighted spot then. But we came into it as the car +stopped; it was a sort of oasis of light in an inky desert of +surrounding gloom. And as we came full into it and I stood up to +descend from the car, stretching my tired, stiff legs, the silence +and the darkness were split by three tremendous cheers. + +It wasn't General Haig who was arriving! It was Harry Lauder! + +"What's the matter here?" I called, as loudly as I could. + +"Been waitin' for ye a couple of 'ours, 'Arry," called a loud cockney +voice in answer. "Go it now! Get it off your chest!" Then came +explanations. It seemed that a lot of soldiers, about four hundred +strong, who were working on a big road job about ten miles from +Tramecourt, had heard of my being there, and had decided to come over +in a body and beg for a concert. They got to the chateau early, and +were told it might be eleven o'clock before I got back. But they didn't +care--they said they'd wait all night, if they had to, to get a chance +to hear me. And they made some use of the time they had to wait. + +They took three big acetylene headlights from motor cars, and +connected them up. There was a little porch at the entrance of the +chateau, with a short flight of steps leading up to it, and then we +decided that that would make an excellent makeshift theater. Since it +would be dark they decided they must have lights, so that they could +see me--just as in a regular theater at hame! That was where the +headlights they borrowed from motor cars came in. They put one on +each side of the porch and one off in front, so that all the light +was centered right on the porch itself, and it was bathed in as +strong a glare as ever I sang in on the stage. It was almost +blinding, indeed, as I found when I turned to face them and to sing +for them. Needless to say, late though it was and tired as I was, I +never thought of refusing to give them the concert they wanted! + +I should have liked to eat my dinner first, but I couldn't think of +suggesting it. These boys had done a long, hard day's work. Then they +had marched ten miles, and, on top of all that, had waited two hours +for me and fixed up a stage and a lighting system. They were quite as +tired as I, I decided--and they had done a lot more. And so I told +the faithful Johnson to bring wee Tinkle Tom along, and get him up to +the little stage, and I faced my audience in the midst of a storm of +the ghostliest applause I ever hope to hear! + +I could hear them, do you ken, but I could no see a face before me! +In the theater, bright though the footlights are, and greatly as they +dim what lies beyond them, you can still see the white faces of your +audience. At least, you do see something--your eyes help you to know +the audience is there, and, gradually, you can see perfectly, and +pick out a face, maybe, and sing to some one person in the audience, +that you may be sure of your effects. + +It was utter, Stygian darkness that lay beyond the pool of blinding +light in which I stood. Gradually I did make out a little of what lay +beyond, very close to me. I could see dim outlines of human bodies +moving around. And now I was sure there were fireflies about. But +then they stayed so still that I realized, suddenly, with a smile, +just what they were--the glowing ends of cigarettes, of course! + +There were many tall poplar trees around the chateau. I knew where to +look for them, but that night I could scarcely see them. I tried to +find them, for it was a strange, weird sensation to be there as I +was, and I wanted all the help fixed objects could give me. I managed +to pick out their feathery lines in the black distance--the darkness +made them seem more remote than they were, really. Their branches, +when I found them, waved like spirit arms, and I could hear the wind +whispering and sighing among the topmost branches. + +Now and then what we call in Scotland a "batty bird" skimmed past my +face, attracted, I suppose, by the bright light. I suppose that bats +that have not been disturbed before for generations have been aroused +by the blast of war through all that region and have come out of dark +cavernous hiding-places, as those that night must have done, to see +what it is all about, the tumult and the shouting! + +They were verra disconcertin', those bats! They bothered me almost as +much as the whizz bangs had done, earlier in the day! They swished +suddenly out of the darkness against my face, and I would start back, +and hear a ripple of laughter run through that unseen audience of +mine. Aye, it was verra funny for them, but I did not like that part +of it a bit! No man likes to have a bat touch his skin. And I had to +duck quickly to evade those winged cousins of the mouse--and then +hear a soft guffaw arising as I did it. + +I have appeared, sometimes, in theaters in which it was pretty +difficult to find the audience. And such audiences have been nearly +impossible to trace, later, in the box-office reports. But that is +the first time in my life, and, up to now, the last, that I ever sang +to a totally invisible audience! I did not know then how many men +there might have been forty, or four hundred, or four thousand. And, +save for the titters that greeted my encounters with the bats, they +were amazingly quiet as they waited for me to sing. + +It was just about ten minutes before eleven when I began to sing, and +the concert wasn't over until after midnight. I was distinctly +nervous as I began the verse of my first song. It was a great relief +when there was a round of applause; that helped to place my audience +and give me its measure, at once. + +But I was almost as disconcerted a bit later as I had been by the +first incursion of the bats. I came to the chorus, and suddenly, out +of the darkness, there came a perfect gale of sound. It was the men +taking up the chorus, thundering it out. They took the song clean +away from me--I could only gasp and listen. The roar from that unseen +chorus almost took my feet from under me, so amazing was it, and so +unexpected, somehow, used as I was to having soldiers join in a +chorus with me, and disappointed as I should have been had they ever +failed to do so. + +But after that first song, when I knew what to expect, I soon grew +used to the strange surroundings. The weirdness and the mystery wore +off, and I began to enjoy myself tremendously. The conditions were +simply ideal; indeed, they were perfect, for the sentimental songs +that soldiers always like best. Imagine how "Roamin' in the Gloamin'" +went that nicht! + +I had meant to sing three or four songs. But instead I sang nearly +every song I knew. It was one of the longest programmes I gave during +the whole tour, and I enjoyed the concert, myself, better than any I +had yet given. + +My audience was growing all the time, although I did not know that. +The singing brought up crowds from the French village, who gathered +in the outskirts of the throng to listen--and, I make no doubt, to +pass amazed comments on these queer English! + +At last I was too tired to go on. And so I bade the lads good-nicht, +and they gave me a great cheer, and faded away into the blackness. +And I went inside, rubbing my eyes, and wondering if it was no all +a dream! + +"It wasn't Sir Douglas Haig who arrived, was it, Harry?" Godfrey +said, slyly. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The next morning I was tired, as you may believe. I ached in every +limb when I went to my room that night, but a hot bath and a good +sleep did wonders for me. No bombardment could have kept me awake +that nicht! I would no ha' cared had the Hun begun shelling +Tramecourt itself, so long as he did not shell me clear out of my +bed. + +Still, in the morning, though I had not had so much sleep as I would +have liked, I was ready to go when we got the word. We made about as +early a start as usual--breakfast soon after daylight, and then out +the motor cars and to wee Tinkle Tom. Our destination that day, our +first, at least, was Albert--a town as badly smashed and battered as +Arras or Ypres. These towns were long thinly held by the British-- +that is, they were just within our lines, and the Hun could rake them +with his fire at his own evil will. + +It did him no good to batter them to pieces as he did. He wasted +shells upon them that must have been precious to him. His treatment +of them was but a part of his wicked, wanton spirit of +destructiveness. He could not see a place standing that he did not +want to destroy, I think. It was not war he made, as the world had +known war; it was a savage raid against every sign and evidence of +civilization, and comfort and happiness. But always, as I think I +have said before, one thing eluded him. It was the soul of that which +he destroyed. That was beyond his reach, and sore it must have +grieved him to come to know it--for come to know it he has, in +France, and in Belgium, too. + +We passed through a wee town called Doullens on our way from +Tramecourt to Albert. And there, that morn, I saw an old French nun; +an aged woman, a woman old beyond all belief or reckoning. I think +she is still there, where I saw her that day. Indeed, it has seemed +to me, often, as I have thought upon her, that she will always be +there, gliding silently through the deserted streets of that wee +toon, on through all the ages that are to come, and always a cowled, +veiled figure of reproach and hatred for the German race. + +There is some life in that wee place now. There are no more Germans, +and no more shells come there. The battle line has been carried on. +to the East by the British; here they have redeemed a bit of France +from the German yoke. And so we could stop there, in the heat of the +morning, for a bit of refreshment at a cafe that was once, I suppose, +quite a place in that sma' toon. It does but little business now; +passing soldiers bring it some trade, but nothing like what it used +to have. For this is not a town much frequented by troops--or was +not, just at that time. + +There was some trouble, too, with one of the cars, so we went for a +short walk through the town. It was then that we met that old French +nun. Her face and her hands were withered, and deeply graven with the +lines of the years that had bowed her head. Her back was bent, and +she walked slowly and with difficulty. But in her eyes was a soft, +young light that I have often seen in the eyes of priests and nuns, +and that their comforting religion gives them. But as we talked I +spoke of the Germans. + +Gone from her eyes was all their softness. They flashed a bitter and +contemptuous hatred. + +"The Germans!" she said. She spat upon the ground, scornfully, and +with a gesture of infinite loathing. And every time she uttered that +hated word she spat again. It was a ceremony she used; she felt, I +know, that her mouth was defiled by that word, and she wished to +cleanse it. It was no affectation, as, with some folk, you might have +thought it. It was not a studied act. She did it, I do believe, +unconsciously. And it was a gesture marvelously expressive. It spoke +more eloquently of her feelings than many words could have done. + +She had seen the Germans! Aye! She had seen them come, in 1914, in +the first days of the war, rolling past in great, gray waves, for +days and days, as if the flood would never cease to roll. She had +seen them passing, with their guns, in those first proud days of the +war, when they had reckoned themselves invincible, and been so sure +of victory. She knew what cruelties, what indignities, they had put +upon the helpless people the war had swept into their clutch. She +knew the defilements of which they had been guilty. + +Nor was that the first time she had seen Germans. They had come +before she was so old, though even then she had not been a young +girl--in the war of 1870, when Europe left brave France to her fate, +because the German spirit and the German plan were not appreciated or +understood. Thank God the world had learned its lesson by 1914, when +the Hun challenged it again, so that the challenge was met and taken +up, and France was not left alone to bear the brunt of German greed +and German hate. + +She hated the Germans, that old French nun. She was religious; she +knew the teachings of her church. She knew that God says we must love +our enemies. But He could not expect us to love His enemies. + +Albert, when we came to it, we found a ruin indeed. The German guns +had beaten upon it until it was like a rubbish heap in the backyard +of hell. Their malice had wrought a ruin here almost worse than that +at Arras. Only one building had survived although it was crumbling to +ruin. That was a church, and, as we approached it, we could see, from +the great way off, a great gilded figure of the Holy Virgin, holding +in her arms the infant Christ. + +The figure leaned at such an angle, high up against the tottering +wall of the church, that it seemed that it must fall at the next +moment, even as we stared at it. But--it does not fall. Every breath +of wind that comes sets it to swaying, gently. When the wind rises to +a storm it must rock perilously indeed. But still it stays there, +hanging like an inspiration straight from Heaven to all who see it. +The peasants who gaze upon it each day in reverent awe whisper to +you, if you ask them, that when it falls at last the war will be +over, and France will be victorious. + +That is rank superstition, you say? Aye, it may be! But in the region +of the front everyone you meet has become superstitious, if that is +the word you choose. That is especially true of the soldiers. Every +man at the front, it seemed to me, was a fatalist. What is to be will +be, they say. It is certain that this feeling has helped to make them +indifferent to danger, almost, indeed, contemptuous of it. And in +France, I was told, almost everywhere there were shrines in which +figures of Christ or of His Mother had survived the most furious +shelling. All the world knows, too, how, at Rheims, where the great +Cathedral has been shattered in the wickedest and most wanton of all +the crimes of that sort that the Germans have to their account, the +statue of Jeanne d'Arc, who saved France long ago, stands untouched. + +How is a man to account for such things as that? Is he to put them +down to chance, to luck, to a blind fate? I, for one, cannot do so, +nor will I try to learn to do it. + +Fate, to be sure, is a strange thing, as my friends the soldiers know +so well. But there is a difference between fate, or chance, and the +sort of force that preserves statues like those I have named. A man +never knows his luck; he does well not to brood upon it. I remember +the case of a chap I knew, who was out for nearly three years, taking +part in great battles from Mons to Arras. He was scratched once or +twice, but was never even really wounded badly enough to go to +hospital. He went to London, at last, on leave, and within an hour of +the time when he stepped from his train at Charing Cross he was +struck by a 'bus and killed. And there was the strange ease of my +friend, Tamson, the baker, of which I told you earlier. No--a man +never knows his fate! + +So it seemed to me, as we drove toward Arras, and watched that +mysterious figure, that God Himself had chosen to leave it there, as +a sign and a warning and a promise all at once. There was no sign of +life, at first, when we came into the town. Silence brooded over the +ruins. We stopped to have a look around in that scene of desolation, +and as the motors throbbed beneath the hoods it seemed to me the +noise they made was close to being blasphemous. We were right under +that hanging figure of the Virgin and of Christ, and to have left the +silence unbroken would have been more seemly. + +But it was not long before the silence of the town was broken by +another sound. It was marching men we heard, but they were scuffling +with their feet as they came; they had not the rhythmic tread of most +of the British troops we had encountered. Nor were these men, when +they swung into sight, coming around a pile of ruins, just like any +British troops we had seen. I recognized them as once as Australians-- +Kangaroos, as their mates in other divisions called them--by the way +their campaign hats were looped up at one side. These were the first +Australian troops I had seen since I had sailed from Sydney, in the +early days of the war, nearly three years before. Three years! To +think of it--and of what those years had seen! + +"Here's a rare chance to give a concert!" I said, and held up my hand +to the officer in command. + +"Halt!" he cried, and then: "Stand at ease!" I was about to tell him +why I had stopped them, and make myself known to them when I saw a +grin rippling its way over all those bronzed faces--a grin of +recognition. And I saw that the officer knew me, too, even before a +loud voice cried out: + +"Good old Harry Lauder!" + +That was a good Scots voice--even though its owner wore the +Australian uniform. + +"Would the boys like to hear a concert?" I asked the officer. + +"That they would! By all means!" he said. "Glad of the chance! And +so'm I! I've heard you just once before--in Sydney, away back in the +summer of 1914." + +Then the big fellow who had called my name spoke up again. + +"Sing us 'Calligan,'" he begged. "Sing us 'Calligan,' Harry! I heard +you sing it twenty-three years agone, in Motherwell Toon Hall!" + +"Calligan!" The request for that song took me back indeed, through +all the years that I have been before the public. It must have been +at least twenty-three years since he had heard me sing that song--all +of twenty-three years. "Calligan" had been one of the very earliest +of my successes on the stage. I had not thought of the song, much +less sung it, for years and years. In fact, though I racked my +brains, I could not remember the words. And so, much as I should have +liked to do so, I could not sing it for him. But if he was +disappointed, he took it in good part, and he seemed to like some of +the newer songs I had to sing for them as well as he could ever have +liked old "Calligan." + +I sang for these Kangaroos a song I had not sung before in France, +because it seemed to be an especially auspicious time to try it. I +wrote it while I was in Australia, with a view, particularly, to +pleasing Australian audiences, and so repaying them, in some measure, +for the kindly way in which they treated me while I was there. I call +it "Australia Is the Land for Me," and this is the way it goes: + + There's a land I'd like to tell you all about + It's a land in the far South Sea. + It's a land where the sun shines nearly every day + It's the land for you and me. + It's the land for the man with the big strong arm + It's the land for big hearts, too. + It's a land we'll fight for, everything that's right for + Australia is the real true blue! + + Refrain: + + It's the land where the sun shines nearly every day + Where the skies are ever blue. + Where the folks are as happy as the day is long + And there's lots of work to do. + Where the soft winds blow and the gum trees grow + As far as the eye can see, + Where the magpie chaffs and the cuckoo-burra laughs + Australia is the land for me! + +Those Kangaroos took to that song as a duck takes to water! They +raised the chorus with me in a swelling roar as soon as they had +heard it once, to learn it, and their voices roared through the ruins +like vocal shrapnel. You could hear them whoop "Australia Is the Land +for Me!" a mile away. And if anything could have brought down that +tottering statue above us it would have been the way they sang. They +put body and soul, as well as voice, into that final patriotic +declaration of the song. + +We had thought--I speak for Hogge and Adam and myself, and not for +Godfrey, who did not have to think and guess, but know--we had +thought, when we rolled into Albert, that it was a city of the dead, +utterly deserted and forlorn. But now, as I went on singing, we found +that that idea had been all wrong. For as the Australians whooped up +their choruses other soldiers popped into sight. They came pouring +from all directions. + +I have seen few sights more amazing. They came from cracks and +crevices, as it seemed; from under tumbled heaps of ruins, and +dropping down from shells of houses where there were certainly no +stairs. As I live, before I had finished my audience had been swollen +to a great one of two thousand men! When they were all roaring out in +a chorus you could scarce hear Johnson's wee piano at all--it sounded +only like a feeble tinkle when there was a part for it alone. + +I began shaking hands, when I had finished singing. That was a +verrainjudeecious thing for me to attempt there! I had not reckoned +with the strength of the grip of those laddies from the underside of +the world. But I had been there, and I should have known. + +Soon came the order to the Kangaroos: "Fall in!" + +At once the habit of stern discipline prevailed. They swung off +again, and the last we saw of them they were just brown men, +disappearing along a brown road, bound for the trenches. + +Swiftly the mole-like dwellers in Albert melted away, until only a +few officers were left beside the members of the Reverend Harry +Lauder, M.P., Tour. And I grew grave and distraught myself. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +One of the officers at Albert was looking at me in a curiously intent +fashion. I noticed that. And soon he came over to me. "Where do you +go next, Harry?" he asked me. His voice was keenly sympathetic, and +his eyes and his manner were very grave. + +"To a place called Ovilliers," I said. + +"So I thought," he said. He put out his hand, and I gripped it, hard. +"I know, Harry. I know exactly where you are going, and I will send a +man with you to act as your guide, who knows the spot you want to reach." + +I couldn't answer him. I was too deeply moved. For Ovilliers is the +spot where my son, Captain John Lauder, lies in his soldier's grave. +That grave had been, of course, from the very first, the final, the +ultimate objective of my journey. And that morning, as we set out +from Tramecourt, Captain Godfrey had told me, with grave sympathy, +that at last we were coming to the spot that had been so constantly +in my thoughts ever since we had sailed from Folkestone. + +And so a private soldier joined our party as guide, and we took to +the road again. The Bapaume road it was--a famous highway, bitterly +contested, savagely fought for. It was one of the strategic roads of +that whole region, and the Hun had made a desperate fight to keep +control of it. But he had failed--as he has failed, and is failing +still, in all his major efforts in France. + +There was no talking in our car, which, this morning, was the second +in the line. I certainly was not disposed to chat, and I suppose that +sympathy for my feelings, and my glumness, stilled the tongues of my +companions. And, at any rate, we had not traveled far when the car +ahead of us stopped, and the soldier from Albert stepped into the +road and waited for me. I got out when our car stopped, and joined +him. + +"I will show you the place now, Mr. Lauder," he said, quietly. So we +left the cars standing in the road, and set out across a field that, +like all the fields in that vicinity, had been ripped and torn by +shell-fire. All about us, as we crossed that tragic field, there were +little brown mounds, each with a white wooden cross upon it. June was +out that day in full bloom. All over the valley, thickly sown with +those white crosses, wild flowers in rare profusion, and thickly +matted, luxuriant grasses, and all the little shrubs that God Himself +looks after were growing bravely in the sunlight, as though they were +trying to hide the work of the Hun. + +It was a mournful journey, but, in some strange way, the peaceful +beauty of the day brought comfort to me. And my own grief was altered +by the vision of the grief that had come to so many others. Those +crosses, stretching away as far as my eye could reach, attested to +the fact that it was not I alone who had suffered and lost and laid a +sacrifice upon the altar of my country. And, in the presence of so +many evidences of grief and desolation a private grief sank into its +true proportions. It was no less keen, the agony of the thought of my +boy was as sharp as ever. But I knew that he was only one, and that I +was only one father. And there were so many like him--and so many +like me, God help us all! Well, He did help me, as I have told, and I +hope and pray that He has helped many another. I believe He has; +indeed, I know it. + +Hogge and Dr. Adam, my two good friends, walked with me on that sad +pilgrimage. I was acutely conscious of their sympathy; it was sweet +and precious to have it. But I do not think we exchanged a word as we +crossed that field. There was no need of words. I knew, without +speech from them, how they felt, and they knew that I knew. So we +came, when we were, perhaps, half a mile from the Bapaume road, to a +slight eminence, a tiny hill that rose from the field. A little +military cemetery crowned it. Here the graves were set in ordered +rows, and there was a fence set around them, to keep them apart, and +to mark that spot as holy ground, until the end of time. Five hundred +British boys lie sleeping in that small acre of silence, and among +them is my own laddie. There the fondest hopes of my life, the hopes +that sustained and cheered me through many years, lie buried. + +No one spoke. But the soldier pointed, silently and eloquently, to +one brown mound in a row of brown mounds that looked alike, each like +the other. Then he drew away. And Hogge and Adam stopped, and stood +together, quiet and grave. And so I went alone to my boy's grave, and +flung myself down upon the warm, friendly earth. My memories of that +moment are not very clear, but I think that for a few minutes I was +utterly spent, that my collapse was complete. + +He was such a good boy! + +I hope you will not think, those of you, my friends, who may read +what I am writing here, that I am exalting my lad above all the other +Britons who died for King and country--or, and aye, above the brave +laddies of other races who died to stop the Hun. But he was such a +good boy! + +As I lay there on that brown mound, under the June sun that day, all +that he had been, and all that he had meant to me and to his mother +came rushing back afresh to my memory, opening anew my wounds of +grief. I thought of him as a baby, and as a wee laddie beginning to +run around and talk to us. I thought of him in every phase and bit of +his life, and of the friends that we had been, he and I! Such chums +we were, always! + +And as I lay there, as I look back upon it now, I can think of but +the one desire that ruled and moved me. I wanted to reach my arms +down into that dark grave, and clasp my boy tightly to my breast, and +kiss him. And I wanted to thank him for what he had done for his +country, and his mother, and for me. + +Again there came to me, as I lay there, the same gracious solace that +God had given me after I heard of his glorious death. And I knew that +this dark grave, so sad and lonely and forlorn, was but the temporary +bivouac of my boy. I knew that it was no more than a trench of refuge +against the storm of battle, in which he was resting until that hour +shall sound when we shall all be reunited beyond the shadowy +borderland of Death. + +How long did I lie there? I do not know. And how I found the strength +at last to drag myself to my feet and away from that spot, the +dearest and the saddest spot on earth to me, God only knows. It was +an hour of very great anguish for me; an hour of an anguish +different, but only less keen, than that which I had known when they +had told me first that I should never see my laddie in the flesh +again. But as I took up the melancholy journey across that field, +with its brown mounds and its white crosses stretching so far away, +they seemed to bring me a sort of tragic consolation. + +I thought of all the broken-hearted ones at home, in Britain. How +many were waiting, as I had waited, until they, too,--they, too,-- +might come to France, and cast themselves down, as I had done, upon +some brown mound, sacred in their thoughts? How many were praying for +the day to come when they might gaze upon a white cross, as I had +done, and from the brown mound out of which it rose gather a few +crumbs of that brown earth, to be deposited in a sacred corner of a +sacred place yonder in Britain? + +While I was in America, on my last tour, a woman wrote to me from a +town in the state of Maine. She was a stranger to me when she sat +down to write that letter, but I count her now, although I have never +seen her, among my very dearest friends. + +"I have a friend in France," she wrote. "He is there with our +American army, and we had a letter from him the other day. I think +you would like to hear what he wrote to us. + +"'I was walking in the gloaming here in France the other evening,' he +wrote. 'You know, I have always been very fond of that old song of +Harry Lauder's, 'Roamin' in the Gloamin'.' + +"'Well, I was roamin' in the gloamin' myself, and as I went I hummed +that very song, under my breath. And I came, in my walk to a little +cemetery, on a tiny hill. There were many mounds there and many small +white crosses. About one of them a Union Jack was wrapped so tightly +that I could not read the inscription upon it. And something led me +to unfurl that weather-worn flag, so that I could read. And what do +you think? It was the grave of Harry Lauder's son, Captain John +Lauder, of the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders, and his little +family crest was upon the cross. + +"'I stood there, looking down at that grave, and I said a little +prayer, all by myself. And then I rewound the Union Jack about the +cross. I went over to some ruins nearby, and there I found a red rose +growing. I do believe it was the last rose of summer. And I took it +up, very carefully, roots and all, and carried it over to Captain +Lauder's grave, and planted it there.'" + +What a world of comfort those words brought me! + +It was about eight o'clock one morning that Captain Lauder was +killed, between Courcellete and Poizieres, on the Ancre, in the +region that is known as the Somme battlefield. It was soon after +breakfast, and John was going about, seeing to his men. His company +was to be relieved that day, and to go back from the trenches to rest +billets, behind the lines. We had sent our laddie a braw lot of +Christmas packages not long before, but he had had them kept at the +rest billet, so that he might have the pleasure of opening them when +he was out of the trenches, and had a little leisure, even though it +made his Christmas presents a wee bit late. + +There had been a little mist upon the ground, as, at that damp and +chilly season of the year, there nearly always was along the river +Ancre. At that time, on that morning, it was just beginning to rise +as the sun grew strong enough to banish it. I think John trusted too +much to the mist, perhaps. He stepped for just a moment into the +open; for just a moment he exposed himself, as he had to do, no +doubt, to do his duty. And a German sniper, watching for just such +chances, caught a glimpse of him. His rifle spoke; its bullet pierced +John's brave and gentle heart. + +Tate, John's body-servant, a man from our own town, was the first +to reach him. Tate was never far from John's side, and he was +heart-broken when he reached him that morning and found that there +was nothing he could do for him. + +Many of the soldiers who served with John and under him have written +to me, and come to me. And all of them have told me the same thing: +that there was not a man in his company who did not feel his death as +a personal loss and bereavement. And his superior officers have told +me the same thing. In so far as such reports could comfort us his +mother and I have taken solace in them. All that we have heard of +John's life in the trenches, and of his death, was such a report as +we or any parents should want to have of their boy. + +John never lost his rare good nature. There were times when things +were going very badly indeed, but at such times he could always be +counted upon to raise a laugh and uplift the spirits of his men. He +knew them all; he knew them well. Nearly all of them came from his +home region near the Clyde, and so they were his neighbors and his +friends. + +I have told you earlier that John was a good musician. He played the +piano rarely well, for an amateur, and he had a grand singing voice. +And one of his fellow-officers told me that, after the fight at +Beaumont-Hamul, one of the phases of the great Battle of the Somme, +John's company found itself, toward evening, near the ruins of an old +chateau. After that fight, by the way, dire news, sad news, came to +our village of the men of the Argyle and Sutherland regiment, and +there were many stricken homes that mourned brave lads who would +never come home again. + +John's men were near to exhaustion that night. They had done terrible +work that day, and their losses had been heavy. Now that there was an +interlude they lay about, tired and bruised and battered. Many had +been killed; many had been so badly wounded that they lay somewhere +behind, or had been picked up already by the Red Cross men who +followed them across the field of the attack. But there were many +more who had been slightly hurt, and whose wounds began to pain them +grievously now. The spirit of the men was dashed. + +John's friend and fellow-officer told me of the scene. + +"There we were, sir," he said. "We were pretty well done in, I can +tell you. And then Lauder came along. I suppose he was just as tired +and worn out as the rest of us--God knows he had as much reason to +be, and more! But he was as cocky as a little bantam. And he was +smiling. He looked about. + +"'Here--this won't do!' he said. 'We've got to get these lads feeling +better!' He was talking more to himself than to anyone else, I think. +And he went exploring around. He got into what was left of that +chateau--and I can tell you it wasn't much! The Germans had been +using it as a point d'appui--a sort of rallying-place, sir--and our +guns had smashed it up pretty thoroughly. I've no doubt the Fritzies +had taken a hack at it, too, when they found they couldn't hold it +any longer--they usually did. + +"But, by a sort of miracle, there was a piano inside that had come +through all the trouble. The building and all the rest of the +furniture had been knocked to bits, but the piano was all right, +although, as I say, I don't know how that had happened. Lauder spied +it, and went clambering over all the debris and wreckage to reach it. +He tried the keys, and found that the action was all right. So he +began picking out a tune, and the rest of us began to sit up a bit. +And pretty soon he lifted his voice in a rollicking tune--one of your +songs it was, sir--and in no time the men were all sitting up to +listen to him. Then they joined in the chorus--and pretty soon you'd +never have known they'd been tired or worn out! If there'd been a +chance they'd have gone at Fritz and done the day's work all over +again!" + +After John was killed his brother officers sent us all his personal +belongings. We have his field-glasses, with the mud of the trenches +dried upon them. We have a little gold locket that he always wore +around his neck. His mother's picture is in it, and that of the +lassie he was to have married had he come home, after New Year's. And +we have his rings, and his boots, and his watch, and all the other +small possessions that were a part of his daily life out there in +France. + +Many soldiers and officers of the Argyle and Sutherlanders pass the +hoose at Dunoon on the Clyde. None ever passes the hoose, though, +without dropping in, for a bite and sup if he has time to stop, and +to tell us stories of our beloved boy. + +No, I would no have you think that I would exalt my boy above all the +others who have lived and died in France in the way of duty. But he +was such a good boy! We have heard so many tales like those I have +told you, to make us proud of him, and glad that he bore his part as +a man should. + +He will stay there, in that small grave on that tiny hill. I shall +not bring his body back to rest in Scotland, even if the time comes +when I might do so. It is a soldier's grave, and an honorable place +for him to be, and I feel it is there that he would wish to lie, with +his men lying close about him, until the time comes for the great +reunion. + +But I am going back to France to visit again and again that grave +where he lies buried. So long as I live myself that hill will be the +shrine to which my many pilgrimages will be directed. The time will +come again when I may take his mother with me, and when we may kneel +together at that spot. + +And meanwhile the wild flowers and the long grasses and all the +little shrubs will keep watch and ward over him there, and over all +the other brave soldiers who lie hard by, who died for God and for +their flag. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +So at last, I turned back toward the road, and very slowly, with +bowed head and shoulders that felt very old, all at once, I walked +back toward the Bapaume highway. I was still silent, and when we +reached the road again, and the waiting cars, I turned, and looked +back, long and sorrowfully, at that tiny hill, and the grave it +sheltered. Godfrey and Hogge and Adam, Johnson and the soldiers of +our party, followed my gaze. But we looked in silence; not one of us +had a word to say. There are moments, as I suppose we have all had to +learn, that are beyond words and speech. + +And then at last we stepped back into the cars, and resumed our +journey on the Bapaume road. We started slowly, and I looked back +until a turn in the road hid that field with its mounds and its +crosses, and that tiny cemetery on the wee hill. So I said good-by to +my boy again, for a little space. + +Our road was by way of Poizieres, and this part of our journey took +us through an area of fearful desolation. It was the country that was +most bitterly fought over in the summer long battle of the Somme in +1916, when the new armies of Britain had their baptism of fire and +sounded the knell of doom for the Hun. It was then he learned that +Britain had had time, after all, to train troops who, man for man, +outmatched his best. + +Here war had passed like a consuming flame, leaving no living thing +in its path. The trees were mown down, clean to the ground. The very +earth was blasted out of all semblance to its normal kindly look. The +scene was like a picture of Hell from Dante's Inferno; there is nothing +upon this earth that may be compared with it. Death and pain and agony +had ruled this whole countryside, once so smiling and fair to see. + +After we had driven for a space we came to something that lay by the +roadside that was a fitting occupant of such a spot. It was like the +skeleton of some giant creature of a prehistoric age, incredibly +savage even in its stark, unlovely death. It might have been the +frame of some vast, metallic tumble bug, that, crawling ominously +along this road of death, had come into the path of a Colossus, and +been stepped upon, and then kicked aside from the road to die. + +"That's what's left of one of our first tanks," said Godfrey. "We +used them first in this battle of the Somme, you remember. And that +must have been one of the very earliest ones. They've been improved +and perfected since that time." + +"How came it like this?" I asked, gazing at it, curiously. + +"A direct hit from a big German shell--a lucky hit, of course. That's +about the only thing that could put even one of the first tanks out +of action that way. Ordinary shells from field pieces, machine-gun +fire, that sort of thing, made no impression on the tanks. But, of +course----" + +I could see for myself. The in'ards of the monster had been pretty +thoroughly knocked out. Well, that tank had done its bit, I have no +doubt. And, since its heyday, the brain of Mars has spawned so many +new ideas that this vast creature would have been obsolete, and ready +for the scrap heap, even had the Hun not put it there before its +time. + +At the Butte de Marlincourt, one of the most bitterly contested bits +of the battlefield, we passed a huge mine crater, and I made an +inspection of it. It was like the crater of an old volcano, a huge +old mountain with a hole in its center. Here were elaborate dugouts, +too, and many graves. + +Soon we came to Bapaume. Bapaume was one of the objectives the +British failed to reach in the action of 1916. But early in 1917 the +Germans, seeing they had come to the end of their tether there, +retreated, and gave the town up. But what a town they left! Bapaume +was nearly as complete a ruin as Arras and Albert. But it had not +been wrecked by shell-fire. The Hun had done the work in cold blood. +The houses had been wrecked by human hands. Pictures still hung +crazily upon the walls. Grates were falling out of fire-places. Beds +stood on end. Tables and chairs were wantonly smashed and there was +black ruin everywhere. + +We drove on then to a small town where the skirling of pipes heralded +our coming. It was the headquarters of General Willoughby and the +Fortieth Division. Highlanders came flocking around to greet us +warmly, and they all begged me to sing to them. But the officer in +command called them to attention. + +"Men," he said, "Harry Lauder comes to us fresh from the saddest +mission of his life. We have no right to expect him to sing for us +to-day, but if it is God's will that he should, nothing could give us +greater pleasure." + +My heart was very heavy within me, and never, even on the night when +I went back to the Shaftesbury Theater, have I felt less like +singing. But I saw the warm sympathy on the faces of the boys. + +"If you'll take me as I am," I told them, "I will try to sing for +you. I will do my best, anyway. When a man is killed, or a battalion +is killed, or a regiment is killed, the war goes on, just the same. +And if it is possible for you to fight with broken ranks, I'll try to +sing for you with a broken heart." + +And so I did, and, although God knows it must have been a feeble +effort, the lads gave me a beautiful reception. I sang my older songs +for them--the songs my own laddie had loved. + +They gave us tea after I had sung for them, with chocolate eclairs as +a rare treat! We were surprised to get such fare upon the +battlefield, but it was a welcome surprise. + +We turned back from Bapaume, traveling along another road on the +return journey. And on the way we met about two hundred German +prisoners--the first we had seen in any numbers. They were working on +the road, under guard of British soldiers. They looked sleek and +well-fed, and they were not working very hard, certainly. Yet I +thought there was something about their expression like that of +neglected animals. I got out of the car and spoke to an intelligent- +looking little chap, perhaps about twenty-five years old--a sergeant. +He looked rather suspicious when I spoke to him, but he saluted +smartly, and stood at attention while we talked, and he gave me ready +and civil answers. + +"You speak English?" I asked. "Fluently?" + +"Yes, sir!" + +"How do you like being a prisoner?" + +"I don't like it. It's very degrading." + +"Your companions look pretty happy. Any complaints?" + +"No, sir! None!" + +"What are the Germans fighting for? What do you hope to gain?" + +"The freedom of the seas!" + +"But you had that before the war broke out!" + +"We haven't got it now." + +I laughed at that. + +"Certainly not," I said. "Give us credit for doing something! But how +are you going to get it again?" + +"Our submarines will get it for us." + +"Still," I said, "you must be fighting for something else, too?" + +"No," he said, doggedly. "Just for the freedom of the seas." + +I couldn't resist telling him a bit of news that the censor was +keeping very carefully from his fellow-Germans at home. + +"We sank seven of your submarines last week," I said. + +He probably didn't believe that. But his face paled a bit, and his +lips puckered, and he scowled. Then, as I turned away, he whipped his +hand to his forehead in a stiff salute, but I felt that it was not +the most gracious salute I had ever seen! Still, I didn't blame him +much! + +Captain Godfrey meant to show us another village that day. + +"Rather an interesting spot," he said. "They differ, these French +villages. They're not all alike, by any means." + +Then, before long, he began to look puzzled. And finally he called +a halt. + +"It ought to be right here," he said. "It was, not so long ago." + +But there was no village! The Hun had passed that way. And the +village for which Godfrey was seeking had been utterly wiped off the +face of the earth! Not a trace of it remained. Where men and women +and little children had lived and worked and played in quiet +happiness the abominable desolation that is the work of the Hun +had come. There was nothing to show that they or their village +had ever been. + +The Hun knows no mercy! + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +There had been, originally, a perfectly definite route for the +Reverend Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour--as definite a route as is mapped +out for me when I am touring the United States. Our route had called +for a fairly steady progress from Vimy Ridge to Peronne--like +Bapaume, one of the great unreached objectives of the Somme +offensive, and, again like Bapaume, ruined and abandoned by the +Germans in the retreat of the spring of 1917. But we made many side +trips and gave many and many an unplanned, extemporaneous roadside +concert, as I have told. + +For all of us it had been a labor of love. I will always believe that +I sang a little better on that tour than I have ever sung before or +ever shall again, and I am sure, too, that Hogge and Dr. Adam spoke +more eloquently to their soldier hearers than they ever did in +parliament or church. My wee piano, Tinkle Tom, held out staunchly. +He never wavered in tune, though he got some sad jouncings as he +clung to the grid of a swift-moving car. As for Johnson, my +Yorkshireman, he was as good an accompanist before the tour ended as +I could ever want, and he took the keenest interest and delight in +his work, from start to finish. + +Captain Godfrey, our manager, must have been proud indeed of the +"business" his troupe did. The weather was splendid; the "houses" +everywhere were so big that if there had been Standing Room Only +signs they would have been called into use every day. And his company +got a wonderful reception wherever it showed! He had everything a +manager could have to make his heart rejoice. And he did not, like +many managers, have to be continually trying to patch up quarrels in +the company! He had no petty professional jealousies with which to +contend; such things were unknown in our troupe! + +All the time while I was singing in France I was elaborating an idea +that had for some time possessed me, and that was coming now to +dominate me utterly. I was thinking of the maimed soldiers, the boys +who had not died, but had given a leg, or an arm, or their sight to +the cause, and who were doomed to go through the rest of their lives +broken and shattered and incomplete. They were never out of my +thoughts. I had seen them before I ever came to France, as I traveled +the length and breadth of the United Kingdom, singing for the men in +the camps and the hospitals, and doing what I could to help in the +recruiting. And I used to lie awake of nights, wondering what would +become of those poor broken laddies when the war was over and we were +all setting to work again to rebuild our lives. + +And especially I thought of the brave laddies of my ain Scotland. +They must have thought often of their future. They must have wondered +what was to become of them, when they had to take up the struggle +with the world anew--no longer on even terms with their mates, but +handicapped by grievous injuries that had come to them in the noblest +of ways. I remembered crippled soldiers, victims of other wars, whom +I had seen selling papers and matches on street corners, objects of +charity, almost, to a generation that had forgotten the service to +the country that had put them in the way of having to make their +living so. And I had made a great resolution that, if I could do +aught to prevent it, no man of Scotland who had served in this war +should ever have to seek a livelihood in such a manner. + +So I conceived the idea of raising a great fund to be used for giving +the maimed Scots soldiers a fresh start in life. They would be +pensioned by the government. I knew that. But I knew, too, that a +pension is rarely more than enough to keep body and soul together. +What these crippled men would need, I felt, was enough money to set +them up in some little business of their own, that they could see to +despite their wounds, or to enable them to make a new start in some +old business or trade, if they could do so. + +A man might need a hundred pounds, I thought, or two hundred pounds, +to get him started properly again. And I wanted to be able to hand a +man what money he might require. I did not want to lend it to him, +taking his note or his promise to pay. Nor did I want to give it to +him as charity. I wanted to hand it to him as a freewill offering, as +a partial payment of the debt Scotland owed him for what he had done +for her. + +And I thought, too, of men stricken by shell-shock, or paralyzed in +the war--there are pitifully many of both sorts! I did not want them +to stay in bare and cold and lonely institutions. I wanted to take +them out of such places, and back to their homes; home to the village +and the glen. I wanted to get them a wheel-chair, with an old, +neighborly man or an old neighborly woman, maybe, to take them for an +airing in the forenoon, and the afternoon, that they might breathe +the good Scots air, and see the wild flowers growing, and hear the +song of the birds. + +That was the plan that had for a long time been taking form in my mind. +I had talked it over with some of my friends, and the newspapers had +heard of it, somehow, and printed a few paragraphs about it. It was +still very much in embryo when I went to France, but, to my surprise, +the Scots soldiers nearly always spoke of it when I was talking with +them. They had seen the paragraphs in the papers, and I soon realized +that it loomed up as a great thing for them. + +"Aye, it's a grand thing you're thinking of, Harry," they said, again +and again. "Now we know we'll no be beggars in the street, now that +we've got a champion like you, Harry." + +I heard such words as that first from a Highlander at Arras, and from +that moment I have thought of little else. Many of the laddies told +me that the thought of being killed did not bother them, but that +they did worry a bit about their future in case they went home maimed +and helpless. + +"We're here to stay until there's no more work to do, if it takes +twenty years, Harry," they said. "But it'll be a big relief to know +we will be cared for if we must go back crippled." + +I set the sum I would have to raise to accomplish the work I had in +mind at a million pounds sterling--five million dollars. It may seem +a great sum to some, but to me, knowing the purpose for which it is +to be used, it seems small enough. And my friends agree with me. When +I returned from France I talked to some Scots friends, and a meeting +was called, in Glasgow, of the St. Andrews Society. I addressed it, +and it declared itself in cordial sympathy with the idea. Then I went +to Edinburgh, and down to London, and back north to Manchester. +Everywhere my plan was greeted with the greatest enthusiasm, and the +real organization of the fund was begun on September 17 and 18, 1917. + +This fund of mine is known officially as "The Harry Lauder Million +Pound Fund for Maimed Men, Scottish Soldiers and Sailors." It does +not in any way conflict with nor overlap, any other work already +being done. I made sure of that, because I talked to the Pension +Minister, and his colleagues, in London, before I went ahead with my +plans, and they fully and warmly approved everything that I planned +to do. + +The Earl of Rosebery, former Prime Minister of Britain, is Honorary +President of the Fund, and Lord Balfour of Burleigh is its treasurer. +And as I write we have raised an amount well into six figures in +pounds sterling. One of the things that made me most willing to +undertake my last tour of America was my feeling that I could secure +the support and cooperation of the Scottish people in America for my +fund better by personal appeals than in any other way. At the end of +every performance I gave during the tour, I told my audience what I +was doing and the object of the fund, and, although I addressed +myself chiefly to the Scots, there has been a most generous and +touching response from Americans as well. + +We distributed little plaid-bordered envelopes, in which folk were +invited to send contributions to the bank in New York that was the +American depository. And after each performance Mrs. Lauder stood in +the lobby and sold little envelopes full of stamps, "sticky backs," +as she called them, like the Red Cross seals that have been sold so +long in America at Christmas time. She sold them for a quarter, or +for whatever they would bring, and all the money went to the fund. + +I had a novel experience sometimes. Often I would no sooner have +explained what I was doing than I would feel myself the target of a +sort of bombardment. At first I thought Germans were shooting at me, +but I soon learned that it was money that was being thrown! And every +day my dressing-table would be piled high with checks and money +orders and paper money sent direct to me instead of to the bank. But +I had to ask the guid folk to cease firing--the money was too apt to +be lost! + +Folk of all races gave liberally. I was deeply touched at Hot +Springs, Arkansas, where the stage hands gave me the money they had +received for their work during my engagement. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +I have stopped for a wee digression about my fund. I saw many +interesting things in France, and dreadful things. And it was +impressed upon me more and more that the Hun knows no mercy. The +wicked, wanton things he did in France, and that I saw! + +There was Mont St. Quentin, one of the very strongest of the +positions out of which the British turned him. There was a chateau +there, a bonnie place. And hard by was a wee cemetery. The Hun had +smashed its pretty monuments, and he had reached into that sacred +soil with his filthy claws, and dragged out the dead from their +resting-place, and scattered their helpless bones about. + +He ruined Peronne in wanton fury because it was passing from his +grip. He wrecked its old cathedral, once one of the loveliest sights +in France. He took away the old fleurs-de-lis from the great gates of +Peronne. He stole and carried away the statues that used to stand in +the old square. He left the great statue of St. Peter, still standing +in the churchyard, but its thumb was broken off. I found it, as I +rummaged about idly in the debris at the statue's foot. + +It was no casual looting that the Huns did. They did their work +methodically, systematically. It was a sight to make the angels weep. + +As I left the ruined cathedral I met a couple of French poilus, and +tried to talk with them. But they spoke "very leetle" English, and I +fired all my French words at them in one sentence. + +"Oui, oui, madame," I said. "Encore pomme du terre. Fini!" + +They laughed, but we did no get far with our talk! Not in French. + +"You can't love the Hun much, after this," I said. + +"Ze Hun? Ze bloody Boche?" cried one of them. "I keel heem all my +life!" + +I was glad to quit Peronne. The rape of that lovely church saddened +me more than almost any sight I saw in France. I did not care to look +at it. So I was glad when we motored on to the headquarters of the +Fourth Army, where I had the honor of meeting one of Britain's +greatest soldiers, General Sir Henry Rawlinson, who greeted us most +cordially, and invited us to dinner. + +After dinner we drove on toward Amiens. We were swinging back now, +toward Boulogne, and were scheduled to sleep that night at Amiens-- +which the Germans held for a few days, during their first rush toward +Paris, before the Marne, but did not have time to destroy. + +Adam knew Amiens, and was made welcome, with the rest of us, at an +excellent hotel. Von Kluck had made its headquarters when he swung +that way from Brussels, and it was there he planned the dinner he +meant to eat in Paris with the Kaiser. Von Kluck demanded an +indemnity of a million dollars from Amiens to spare its famous old +cathedral. + +It was late when we arrived, but before I slept I called for the +boots and ordered a bottle of ginger ale. I tried to get him to tell +me about old von Kluck and his stay but he couldn't talk English, and +was busy, anyway, trying to open the bottle without cutting the wire. +Adam and Hogge are fond, to this day, of telling how I shouted at +him, finally: + +"Well, how do you expect to open that bottle when you can't even talk +the English language?" + +Next day was Sunday, and we went to church in the cathedral, which +von Kluck didn't destroy, after all. There were signs of war; the +windows and the fine carved doors were banked with sand bags as a +measure of protection from bombing airplanes. + +I gave my last roadside concert on the road from Amiens to Boulogne. +It was at a little place called Ouef, and we had some trouble in +finding it and more in pronouncing its name. Some of us called it +Off, some Owf! I knew I had heard the name somewhere, and I was +racking my brains to think as Johnson set up our wee piano and I +began to sing. Just as I finished my first song a rooster set up a +violent crowing, in competition with me, and I remembered! + +"I know where I am!" I cried. "I'm at Egg!" + +And that is what Oeuf means, in English! + +The soldiers were vastly amused. They were Gordon Highlanders, and I +found a lot of chaps among them frae far awa' Aberdeen. Not many of +them are alive to-day! But that day they were a gay lot and a bonnie +lot. There was a big Highlander who said to me, very gravely: + +"Harry, the only good thing I ever saw in a German was a British +bayonet! If you ever hear anyone at hame talking peace--cut off their +heads! Or send them out to us, and we'll show them. There's a job to +do here, and we'll do it. + +"Look!" he said, sweeping his arm as if to include all France. "Look +at yon ruins! How would you like old England or auld Scotland to be +looking like that? We're not only going to break and scatter the Hun +rule, Harry. If we do no more than that, it will surely be reassembled +again. We're going to destroy it." + +On the way from Oeuf to Boulogne we visited a small, out of the way +hospital, and I sang for the lads there. And I was going around, +afterward, talking to the boys on their cots, and came to a young +chap whose head and face were swathed in bandages. + +"How came you to be hurt, lad?" I asked. + +"Well, sir," he said, "we were attacking one morning. I went over the +parapet with the rest, and got to the German trench all right. I +wasn't hurt. And I went down, thirty feet deep, into one of their +dugouts. You wouldn't think men could live so--but, of course, +they're not men--they're animals! There was a lighted candle on a +shelf, and beside it a fountain pen. It was just an ordinary-looking +pen, and it was fair loot--I thought some chap had meant to write a +letter, and forgotten his pen when our attack came. So I slipped it +in my pocket. + +"Two days later I was going to write a few lines to my mother and +tell her I was all right, so I thought I'd try my new pen. And when I +unscrewed the cap it exploded--and, well, you see me, Harry! It blew +half of my face away!" + +The Hun knows no mercy. + +I was glad to see Boulogne again--the white buildings on the white +hills, and the harbor beyond. Here the itinerary of the Reverend +Harry Lauder, M.P., Tour, came to its formal end. But, since there +were many new arrivals in the hospitals--the population of a base +shifts quickly--we were asked to give a couple more concerts in the +hospitals where we had first appeared on French soil. + +A good many thousand Canadians had just come in, so I sang at Base +Hospital No. 1, and then gave another and farewell concert at the +great convalescent camp on the hill. And then we said good-by to +Captain Godfrey, and the chauffeurs, and to Johnson, my accompanist, +ready to go back to his regiment now. I told them all I hoped that +when I came to France again to sing we could reassemble all the +original cast, and I pray that we may! + +On Monday we took boat again for Folkestone. The boat was crowded +with men going home on leave, and I wandered among them. I heard many +a tale of heroism and courage, of splendid sacrifice and suffering +nobly borne. Destroyers, as before, circled about us, and there was +no hint of trouble from a Hun submarine. + +On our boat was Lord Dalmeny, a King's Messenger, carrying dispatches +from the front. He asked me how I had liked the "show." It is so that +nearly all British soldiers refer to the war. + +They had earned their rest, those laddies who were going home to +Britain. But some of them were half sorry to be going! I talked to +one of them. + +"I don't know, Harry," he said. "I was looking forward to this leave +for a long time. I've been oot twa years. My heart jumped with joy at +first at the thought of seeing my mother and the auld hame. But now +that I'm started, and in a fair way to get there, I'm no so happy. +You see--every young fellow frae my toon is awa'. I'm the only one +going back. Many are dead. It won't be the same. I've a mind just to +stay on London till my leave is up, and then go back. If I went home +my mother would but burst out greetin', an' I think I could no stand +that." + +But, as for me, I was glad, though I was sorry, too, to be going +home. I wanted to go back again. But I wanted to hurry to my wife, +and tell her what I had seen at our boy's grave. And so I did, so +soon as I landed on British ground once more. + +I felt that I was bearing a message to her. A message from our boy. I +felt--and I still feel--that I could tell her that all was well with +him, and with all the other soldiers of Britain, who sleep, like him, +in the land of the bleeding lily. They died for humanity, and God +will not forget. + +And I think there is something for me to say to all those who are to +know a grief such as I knew. Every mother and father who loves a son +in this war must have a strong, unbreakable faith in the future life, +in the world beyond, where you will see your son again. Do not give +way to grief. Instead, keep your gaze and your faith firmly fixed on +the world beyond, and regard your boy's absence as though he were but +on a journey. By keeping your faith you will help to win this war. +For if you lose it, the war and your personal self are lost. + +My whole perspective was changed by my visit to the front. Never +again shall I know those moments of black despair that used to come +to me. In my thoughts I shall never be far away from the little +cemetery hard by the Bapaume road. And life would not be worth the +living for me did I not believe that each day brings me nearer to +seeing him again. + +I found a belief among the soldiers in France that was almost +universal. I found it among all classes of men at the front; among +men who had, before the war, been regularly religious, along +well-ordered lines, and among men who had lived just according to +their own lights. Before the war, before the Hun went mad, the young +men of Britain thought little of death or what might come after death. +They were gay and careless, living for to-day. Then war came, and with +it death, astride of every minute, every hour. And the young men began +to think of spiritual things and of God. + +Their faces, their deportments, may not have shown the change. But it +was in their hearts. They would not show it. Not they! But I have +talked with hundreds of men along the front. And it is my conviction +that they believe, one and all, that if they fall in battle they only +pass on to another. And what a comforting belief that is! + +"It is that belief that makes us indifferent to danger and to death," +a soldier said to me. "We fight in a righteous cause and a holy war. +God is not going to let everything end for us just because the mortal +life quits the shell we call the body. You may be sure of that." + +And I am sure of it, indeed! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Minstrel In France, by Harry Lauder + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MINSTREL IN FRANCE *** + +***** This file should be named 11211.txt or 11211.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/2/1/11211/ + +Produced by Geoff Palmer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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