Part 16 (2/2)

=General Lyttleton's Brigade Formed up for Prayer Before Going into Action.=

One of the most remarkable facts of the campaign is this. Before General Lyttleton's brigade marched out from its camping ground for its desperate task it was formed up in close column--formed up not for an inspection, but for prayer. We have never heard of anything else like it in the history of war. The Bishop of Natal was with the troops, and he suggested to General Lyttleton that the best preparation for the battle was prayer. He himself led in prayer for the other regiments, while at the request of the colonel the Army Scripture Reader attached to the Scottish Rifles offered prayer. With prayer rising for them and following them, they marched to the conflict. It was to many a Sacrament. It was their _Sacramentum_--their oath of allegiance to the King of kings.

Strange things happen in war. Perhaps this is one of the strangest. And yet if there were more prayer there would be less war. May be the voice of prayer rising from our British army to the throne of G.o.d--rising also from friends in the homeland far away, is another Sacrament--a sign and a seal of the blessings foretold when the Prince of Peace shall reign.

=The Struggle for Spion Kop.=

Potgieter's Drift, Spion Kop, Pieter's Hill--these are names that will live in the memory of every British soldier with Sir Redvers Buller. Of all fights Spion Kop was perhaps the most terrible, as it was the most disastrous. It was called Spion Kop, or Spying Mountain, because it was from this eminence the old Boer trekkers spied out the land in the days gone by. It was more than a hill--it was a mountain, and a mountain with a most precipitous ascent. To climb it meant hauling oneself up from one rock to another. It was a task that required all a strong man's strength. Yet up it went our men without a moment's hesitation. It was almost like climbing a house side. But one man helped another, the stronger pulling up the weaker, until they halted for a moment breathless at the top. 'Charge!' and away they went. The bayonets were covered with blood after that awful charge, and then, their work for the moment accomplished, they lay down, for the bullets were whistling around them. In the dense darkness they began to build sangars as best they could. All night long they worked, and never for a moment were they allowed to work in peace. When morning broke they saw that their entrenchments were far too small, and though they held out all day, their position was commanded by the Boers on higher ground, and so became untenable. Sh.e.l.ls burst behind every rock. Bullets like hail rained upon them, and although they fought as all true Britishers can, they were at last withdrawn--withdrawn, perhaps, when victory was almost within their grasp.

It is not our purpose to describe the fight; that we leave to others.

What we have said serves but as a reminder. The question that concerns us is, How did our men hold themselves through that awful day?

=Touching Incidents at Spion Kop.=

We read of one, a Wesleyan local preacher,--Mr. W.F. Low,--wounded by a bullet through his collar bone and shoulder blade; wounded again by a fragment of sh.e.l.l striking his leg, worn out by excitement and fatigue--so worn out that he actually slept, notwithstanding the pain of his wound, until awoke by sharp pain of his second wound. We read of this man crawling over to the wounded lying near him, pa.s.sing water from his water-bottle to one and another, gathering the water-bottles of the dead men round about, and giving them to those yet living. And yet the cry of 'Water,' 'Water!' was heard on every side, and there were many to which he could not respond. He tells how many of the men were praying, how their cries of repentance seemed to him too often cries of cowardice; though who would not fear to enter the presence of G.o.d all unprepared and unforgiven? Well might many of them cry for mercy.

One man spent his last moments in writing a letter to his chum, who had led him to Christ but the day before. 'Dear brother in Christ Jesus,' he wrote, 'I owe my very soul to you. If it had not been for you, I should not have been ready to die now. It seems hard only to give the last few hours of my life to His service, but I must say ”Good-bye.” The angels are calling me home. I can see them and the glorious city. Good-bye, and may G.o.d bless you!'

Says the one who in rough-and-ready fas.h.i.+on had so recently led his chum to Christ, 'It cheered me to know he was all right with the Master. Now I must look out for more work for Him.'

=The Tortures of the Wounded.=

Then started that sad procession to the rear--the procession of ox-waggons containing the poor mangled bodies of our wounded. Oh! the horrors of it! 'How much longer will it be?' 'Will the road soon be smoother?' cried the longsuffering lads. Who shall tell the tale of agony? Aye! who shall tell the heroism then displayed? Who shall describe how rough men became as gentle women, and how those racked with pain themselves yet tried to minister to the wants of others? Oh! war is devil's work; but surely at no time do human love and human sympathy show themselves so often, or prove themselves so helpful, as amidst its horrors.

Of all hospitals that at Mooi River was the best. This is the testimony of one and all. 'You went in there,' said one lad, 'a skeleton. You came out a giant.' And at Mooi at last, many of these poor wounded soldier lads found themselves, and amidst comfort that seemed to them luxury and rest that was heaven itself they were many of them wooed back to life.

But what of the men still at the front? Effort after effort! Retreat followed by advance! Misunderstanding and mistake here and there. And then Pieter's Hill! Ask the soldier who has come back wounded from Pieter's Hill--and how many of them are there?--what he thought of it.

He can give you but a confused picture of the fight. He has no idea of the plan in the general's mind. But ask him of his experiences. His wound was nothing; he will not dwell upon that. But the time spent upon the ground after the wound was received--twenty-four hours, forty-eight, three days, and in one case, at any rate, so the poor fellow told us, four days--before the stretcher party carried them to the rear. It could not be helped. There was no reaching the wounded. They were scattered far and near. They lay where they fell, starving for want of food, dying of thirst under a South African sun. Oh! the horror of it! But your soldier cannot describe it. It will be a nightmare to him for life. You speak to him on the subject 'How long did you lie there?' You want to inquire a little further; but he shakes his head,' Don't ask me, 'twas too awful,' and he turns his head away.

='Men, Christ can Save Me even Now.'=

Seated in the Buckingham Palace Soldiers' Home the other day, some men from Pieter's Hill were chatting together. 'And what was your experience?' said the chaplain. 'Oh! I just realized how G.o.d could save, and G.o.d could keep. It was terribly hard, but all through those fearful battles I had always peace--always joy.'

And then he continued, 'I never think of Pieter's Hill but I think of Armstrong. You did not know Armstrong. He used to be in the orderly room every week--a bad lad was poor old Armstrong. But when we were in India he gave himself to Christ. He was never in the orderly room after that.

One day his major met him. ”Armstrong,” said he, ”what's the matter? we never see you in the orderly room now.”

”No, sir,” he said, ”old Armstrong's gone. A new Armstrong's come.”

”What do you mean?” queried his officer. ”Just this, sir; I've given my heart to G.o.d, and chucked the sin.”

'So he lived until he went to the war, and so he died. He pa.s.sed through Spion Kop unscathed, but on Pieter's Hill a bullet went through his head. As he fell he cried, ”Men, Christ can save me even now! It's all right, I'm going home,” and he died.'

The Guardsmen came thronging round while this man of the Royal Irish Rifles told about his chum They listened with tears in their eyes; they listened to tell the story again to others. And so the good news that Christ can save upon the battle-field is sent flying through the British army.

<script>