With The Immortal Seventh Division | Page 7

the lay brothers; especially one, Brother Sylvester. I hope if these lines
should ever reach his eye, that he will accept the grateful thanks of those who benefited
by the charitable goodness of the Order, and especially his own.
The men were speedily billeted in sweet straw, laid down in the upper dormitories of the
building; whilst the hundred and twenty horses were stalled in the spacious stables; and

beds provided for the officers in the dormitories. But what was better still, after the men
had been attended to (and this is the invariable rule, men first) we regaled ourselves upon
tea and bread and butter in the bakehouse, where, in front of the huge fire, we toasted our
benumbed extremities and dried our sodden clothing. After such a night's rest, as only
comes to fagged-out men, we awoke to a golden-tinted autumn morning, which brought
to us the joy of living; and once more we felt ready for the onward trek. I have since
learned that the Division was originally destined to relieve Antwerp, but the sudden fall
of the city set the enemy free to march on Calais; and so the Seventh Division, with the
Third Cavalry Division, under Sir Julian Byng, the whole commanded by Sir Henry
Rawlinson, was sent post haste to intercept his advance in the neighbourhood of Ypres.
And thus the small force of under thirty thousand men pressed on to the heroic task of
holding up the main body of the enemy; not less than two hundred and forty thousand
men.
Later on I shall have something to say about the prolonged encounter which is
historically known as the 'first battle of Ypres.' But meantime it may be of interest to my
readers to give an outline of our rapid trek through Belgium.
Leaving our hospitable quarters at Bruges, the column, which seemed interminable,
marched to Beernem. At this place I was fortunate enough, with my brother chaplain, Mr.
Jaffray, through the forethought of Mr. Peel, to secure a bed. The accommodation was
rough, and the little estaminet was crowded with officers, who were only too thankful to
sleep on any floor where there was a chance of putting down a valise. I particularly
remember this billet, for I thought that I had a chance of distinguishing myself by
capturing a spy. Orders had been issued, stating that a certain 'Captain Walker,' posing as
a R.A.M.C. officer, was visiting our troops, and picking up stray crumbs of information;
should such a person be encountered he was to be immediately arrested. I had just turned
in, when amid the babel of conversation which came from downstairs, I caught the name
'Walker.' Slipping quietly down the ladder which served as a staircase, I listened for a
moment or two at the door, and from what I heard, gathered that I had spotted my man;
and suddenly appearing as an apparition in pyjamas, I inquired in somewhat stentorian
tones which was Captain Walker? A rosy-cheeked subaltern somewhat sheepishly
admitted that he was Lieut. Walker, and I found my hopes dashed to the ground. This was
not my only encounter with spies, supposed or real, of which more anon.
A morning stay at Beernem enabled me to improvise a Parade Service, it being Sunday;
which was apparently heartily joined in by those attending. The opportunities for such
work by chaplains on the trek are few and far between, and it is a question of
Seizing the current when it serves, Or losing our ventures.
Leaving Beernem, our route led us through Wynghene. It was here I seized the
opportunity of displaying my undoubted ability as mess president, to which post I had
been appointed. At the midday halt in this village, I was anxiously looking about for
bread, eggs, vegetables or any other commodity which would embellish the festal board
of the mess, and thus win the gratitude of my always hungry brother officers, when,
through an open door, I caught sight of fowls in a backyard. I promptly jumped off my

horse, and entered into negotiations with the owners of the chicken run, which speedily
resulted in the decapitated corpses of three plump fowls being slung from my saddle.
Amid the envy of the column, I proudly rode down to the transport of my unit with my
spoil, the result being that in a short time not a fowl remained alive in the village; and
that night every mess was redolent with the delicious scent of roast fowl.
Our next billet was at Eeghem, where a stone kitchen floor was the utmost we could
secure for the officers, after having bedded the men in barns on luxurious beds of sweet
straw. In the early morning, in company with Mr. Peel, I enjoyed a brief stroll in the
neighbourhood.