The War Romance of the Salvation Army. Evangeline Booth
me.
I’m coming home, I’m coming home,
To live my wasted life anew,
For Mother’s prayers have followed me,
Have followed me, the whole world through.
“O’er desert wild, o’er mountain high,
A wanderer I chose to be---
A wretched soul condemned to die;
Still Mother’s prayers have followed me.
“He turned my darkness into light,
This blessed Christ of Calvary;
I’ll praise His name both day and night,
That Mother’s prayers have followed me!
I’m coming home, I’m coming home---”
Only the last great day will reveal how many hearts echoed those words; but the voices were all husky with emotion as they tried to join in the closing hymn that followed.
There were those who lingered about the speakers and wanted to inquire the way of salvation, and some knelt in a quiet corner and gave themselves to Christ. Over all of them there was a hushed thoughtfulness. When the workers started back to their own hut the crowd went with them, talking eagerly as they went, hovering about wistfully as if here were the first real thing they had found since coming away from home.
Over at the Salvation Army hut another service had been going forward with equal interest, the dedication of the new building. The place was crowded to its utmost capacity, and crowds were standing outside and peering in at the windows. Some of the French people of the neighborhood, women and children and old men, had drifted over, and were listening to the singing in open-eyed wonderment. Among them one of the Salvation Army workers had distributed copies of the French “War Cry” with stories of Christ in their own language, and it began to dawn upon them that these people believed in the same Jesus that was worshipped in their French churches; yet they never had seen services like these. The joyous music thrilled them.
Before they slept that night the majority of the soldiers in that vicinity had lost most of their prejudice against the little band of unselfish workers that had dropped so quietly down into their midst. Word was beginning to filter out from camp to camp that they were a good sort, that they sold their goods at cost and a fellow could even “jawbone” when he was “broke.”
Salvation Army huts gave the soldiers “jawbone,” this being the soldier’s name for credit. No accounts were kept of the amount allowed to each soldier. When a soldier came to the canteen and asked for “jawbone,” he was asked how much he had already been allowed. If the amount owed by him already was large, he was cautioned not to go too deeply into his next pay check; but never was a man refused anything within reason. Frequently one hut would have many thousands of francs outstanding by the end of a month. But, although there was no check against them, soldiers always squared their accounts at pay-day and very little indeed was lost.
One man came in and threw 300 francs on the counter, saying: “I owe you 285 francs. Put the change in the coffee fund.”
One Salvation Army Ensign frequently loaned sums of money out of his own pocket to soldiers, asking that, when they were in a position to return it, they hand it in to any Salvation Army hut, saying that it was for him. He says that he has never lost by doing this.
One day as he was driving from Havre to Paris he met six American soldiers whose big truck had broken down. They asked him where there was a Salvation Army hut; but there was none in that particular section. They had no food, no money, and no place to sleep. He handed them seventy francs and told them to leave it at any Salvation Army hut for him when they were able. Five months passed and then the money was turned in to a Salvation Army hut and forwarded to him. With it was a note stating that the men had been with the French troops and had not been able to reach a Salvation Army establishment. They were very grateful for the trust reposed in them by the Salvationist. Undoubtedly there are many such instances.
The Salvation Army officer who with his wife was put in charge of the hut at Demange, soon became one of the most popular men in camp. His generous spirit, no less than his rough-and-ready good nature, manful, soldier-like disposition, coupled with a sturdy self-respect and a ready humor, made him blood brother to those hard-bitten old regulars and National Guardsmen of the first American Expeditionary Force.
The Salvation Army quickly became popular. Meetings were held almost every night at that time with an average attendance of not less than five hundred. Meetings as a rule were confined to wonderful song services and brief, snappy talks. At first there were very few conversions, but there have been more since the great drives in which the Americans have taken so large a share. The Masons, the Moose and a Jewish fraternity used the hut for fraternal gatherings. Catholic priests held mass in it upon various occasions. The school for officers and the school for “non-coms” met in it. The band practiced in it every morning. Because of its popularity among the men it was known among the officers as “the soldiers’ hut.” General Duncan once addressed his staff officers in it upon some important matters.
It rained every day for three months. The hut was on rather low ground and in back of it ran the river, considerably swollen by the rains. One night the river rose suddenly, carried away one tent and flooded the other two and the hut. The Salvation Army men spent a wild, wet, sleepless night trying to salvage their scanty personal belongings and their stock of supplies. When the river retreated it left the hut floor covered with slimy black mud which the two men had to shovel out. This was a back-breaking task occupying the better part of two days.
The first snow fell on the bitterest night of the year. It was preceded by the rain and was damp and heavy. The soldiers suffered terribly, especially the men on guard duty who had perforce to endure the full blast of the storm. During the earlier hours of the night the girls served all comers with steaming coffee and filled the canteens of the men on guard (free). When they saw how severe the night would be they remained up to keep a supply of coffee ready for the Salvation Army men who went the rounds through the storm every half hour, serving the sentries with the warming fluid.
That first Expeditionary Force wanted for many things, and endured hardships unthought of by troops arriving later, after the war industries at home had swung into full production. It was almost impossible to secure stoves, and firewood was scarce. For every load that went to the Salvation Army Hut, men of the American Expeditionary Force had to do without, and yet wood was always supplied to the Salvationists (it could not be bought).
At St. Joire, the wood pile had entirely given out and it looked as if there was to be no heat at the Salvation Army hut that night. The sergeant promised them half a load, but the wood wagon lost a wheel about a hundred yards out of town.
“Never mind,” said the sergeant to the girls, “the boys will see that you get some to-night.”
So he requested every man going up to the Salvation Army hut that evening to carry a stick of wood with him ("a stick” may weigh anywhere from 10 to 100 pounds). By eight o’clock there was over a wagon load and a half stacked in back of the hut.
Two small stoves cast circles of heat in the big hut at Demange. Around them the men crowded with their wet garments steaming so profusely that the hut often took on the appearance of a steam-room in a Turkish bath. The rest of the hut was cold; but compared to the weather outside, it was heaven-like. For all of its size, the hut was frail, and the winter wind blew coldly through its many cracks; but compared with the soldier’s billets, it was a cozy palace. The Salvationists spent hours each week sitting on the roof in the driving rain patching leaks with tar-paper and tacks.
The life was a hard one for the girls. They nearly froze during the days, and at nights they usually shivered themselves to sleep, only sleeping when sheer exhaustion overcame them. There were no baths at all. The experience was most trying for women and only the spirit of the great enterprise in which they were engaged carried them through the winter. Even soldiers were at times seen weeping with cold and misery.
One night the gasoline tank which supplied