One Young Man | Page 7

any time. There was not the slightest fuss; anyone could
enter and do exactly as he wished. There is a genuine Y.M. atmosphere
which makes a fellow feel 'at home.' It says, 'We are here because we
feel we are "kind of wanted" here for your individual comfort: this is
_your show_, and we are happy and anxious to do all we can for you.
Come at any time and bring all your chums.'"
Sydney Baxter's chief saw him once or twice during these camp days.
And he marvelled. The spectacles had gone. The lank,
round-shouldered figure had filled and straightened. Suddenly a man
had been born. A soldier, too. This fellow of the pen and ledger, this
very type of the British clerk who had never handled a rifle in his life
and didn't know the smell of powder from eau de Cologne, who had
never experienced anything of hardship or even discomfort; whose
outlook in life had hitherto never stretched beyond a higher seat at the
office desk, to whom the great passions of life were a sealed book--this
fellow passed his shooting and other tests in record time.
He was in France within sixteen weeks of joining the army.
Those were very dark days in England, but the sight of this one young
man cheered the chief. We were arrayed in battle against men who had
been trained through all the years of their manhood, the whole course
of whose lives had been shaped for this Day. And we had to meet them
with--clerks! It seemed hopeless and a mockery. But when he saw
Sydney Baxter the chief realised that often when the spirit is willing the
flesh becomes strong; that the British fighting breed was not dead,
though the black office coat had misled the German. How many times
have you and I said "he was the last man I should have thought would
have made a soldier." Well, Sydney Baxter was that last man. And he
made a first-class soldier. Let this country never forget it. He, and the
thousands like him, outnumbered and outgunned, fought the Prussian
Guard, the most finished product of the German military machine, and

halted them, held them, beat them. In equal fight they thrashed them.
Think of it in the light of history. The greatest and most wonderfully
equipped and trained army the world has ever known beaten in fair
fight by an army of clerks, schoolmasters, stockbrokers, University
men, street waifs, shopkeepers, labourers, counter-jumpers, most of
whom did not know one end of a rifle from the other when war was
declared. Sydney Baxter was one of that army. That is why I am telling
his story. It will make strange and very salutary reading for Prussian
arrogance--some day.

One Young Man on Active Service

CHAPTER IV
ONE YOUNG MAN ON ACTIVE SERVICE
Sydney Baxter was sent with his unit to Rouen. He writes:
"We were tightly packed in a small tent at Rouen Camp. The following
morning and afternoon we were busily engaged in being fitted out with
extra equipment and ammunition, and so did not have time to look
around. We had great hopes, however, of seeing the city in the evening,
but we had to 'Stand by' and on no account leave camp. This was
horrible. The tents were too dark to play cards, we had no reading
matter or letters to answer, and once more seemed doomed to an
evening of deadly dreariness. However, we decided to patrol the camp,
my chum and I. As we walked off together we little dreamed that
exactly one month from that day he was to be called upon to pay the
supreme sacrifice of all. We walked round that camp, feeling that in
each other we had our only link with home, with past associations. We
did not speak much. Each had his own thoughts, each was
subconsciously leaning on the other for support, for the coming
unknown experiences. It was a cold March evening, and for want of
anything to do, and in the hope of getting a little warmth, we decided to

go back to our tent and turn in. I have tried to give an idea of how we
were feeling; it can be summed up as tired and cold--and a bit
homesick.
"It was just then that we spotted a tent with the sign of 'The Red
Triangle.' We had visions of hot tea. An oasis in the desert could not
have been more welcome. We entered the large tent; it was very full,
and a long line was patiently awaiting the turn for purchasing. There
was no shouting, no pushing or elbowing to get up to the front and be
served first. The tent was really and truly a haven of peace--such