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Stories from the Trenches: Funny Tales the Soldiers Tell

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[57] <h2>HARRY LAUDER DOES HIS BIT</h2> THE Y. M. C. A. and Harry Lauder are two social forces that one does not spontaneously connect up. But the former was the agency that brought the singer into the fighting camps of France, not only to hearten the soldiers there, but to pay a touching tribute to the sacrifice of his only son. Dr. George Adam, of Edinburgh, who went with him, gives an account of the trip in Association Men (New York), the official organ of the Y. M. C. A. He also speaks of service under the banner of the Red Triangle that Mr. Lauder has rendered which brings the singing comedian before us in a manner hitherto unsuspected: “On a recent Sunday, although working at full pressure during the week in the play ‘Three Cheers’ at the Shaftesbury Theater, he gave up his rest day gladly to go away down to two of the great Canadian camps with me. “Some one in London asked the little man why he was going down to the camps. Why not join them in a quiet week-end on the river? Lauder’s reply was as quaint as usual: ‘The boys can’t get up to town to see me, so I am off to the camps to see them.’ A right royal time he gave them, too. Picture ten thousand men in a dell on the rolling downs with a little platform in the center and there Lauder singing the old favorites you have heard so often and the soldiers love so much—‘Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep,’ ‘Bantry Bay,’ ‘The[58] Laddies Who Fought and Won,’ ‘Children’s Home,’ and many more. “This was not all; his soul must have been stirred by the sight of so many dear, brave men, for when the meeting seemed over, Lauder began to speak to the soldiers. And a real speech he made, full of imagery, poetry, and fire. May I just tell you how he closed? ‘One evening in the gloaming in a northern town I was sitting by my parlor window when I saw an old man with a pole on his shoulder come along. He was a lamp-lighter, and made the lamp opposite my window dance into brightness. Interested in his work, I watched him pass along until the gloaming gathered round and I could see him no more. However, I knew just where he was, for other lamps flashed into flame. Having completed his task, he disappeared into a side street. Those lamps burned on through the night, making it bright and safe for those who should come behind him. An avenue of lights through the traffic and dangers of the city.’ “With passionate earnestness Lauder cried: ‘Boys, think of that man who lit the lamp, for you are his successors, only in a much nobler and grander way. You are not lighting for a few hours the darkness of passing night. You are lighting an avenue of lights that will make it safe for the generations of all time. Therefore, you must be earnest to do the right. Fight well and hard against every enemy without and within, and those of your blood who come after you will look up proudly in that light of freedom and say, “The sire that went before me lit a lamp in those heroic days when Britain warred for right.” The first burst of illumination that[59] the world had was in the lamp lit by Jesus, or rather he was the Light himself. He said truly, “I am the Light of the world.” You are in his succession. Be careful how you bear yourselves. Quit ye like men! Be strong!’” The story of the effort made to induce the singing comedian to go “out there” touches on his well-known human frailty, in this case triumphantly overcome: “During a visit to France, and in conversation with one in high command in the army, talk turned to the high place Lauder had in the affections of his countrymen, for we were both Scots. A strong desire was expressed that he should be got out among the soldiers in the battle line just to give them the cheer he knows so well how to impart. I promised to endeavor to arrange it, with trepidation, you may be sure, for you know what is so often said of Lauder and his money. However, with courage in both hands I asked him to give up the week that meant many thousands of dollars to go out to the boys. “The request seemed to stagger him, and for a minute I felt I was to fail, but it was the good fortune to receive such a request that took his breath away. ‘Give me a week’s notice and I go with you, and glad to go.’ I replied, ‘I give you notice now.’ Whereupon he called to his manager, ‘Tom, I quit in a week’; and he did, and off to the war zone he went. My pen is unequal to the task of describing that wonderful tour and the amazing results of it. The men went wild with enthusiasm and joy wherever he went. One great meeting was apparently seen by some German airmen, who communicated the information to one of their batteries[60] of artillery. In the middle of a song—whiz, bang!—went a big shell very close at hand—so close, in fact, that pieces struck but a foot or two from where we both stood. There was a scatter and a scamper for cover, and for three-quarters of an hour the Huns hammered the position with two hundred big ones. When the bombardment ended, Lauder of the big-hearted Scotch courage must needs finish his concert.” Another incident shows the heart of Harry Lauder as those who have only heard his rollicking songs will rejoice in. “One day during our visit I was taking Harry to see the grave of his only child, Capt. John Lauder, of the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders, as fine a lad as ever wore a kilt, and as good and brave a son as ever a father loved. As we were motoring swiftly along we turned into the town of Albert and the first sharp glance at the cathedral showed the falling Madonna and Child. It was a startling and arresting sight, and we got out to have a good look. The building is crowned by a statue of Mary holding out the child Jesus to the world; a German shell had struck its base and it fell over, not to the ground, however, but at an acute angle out over the street. “While we lingered, a bunch of soldiers came marching through, dusty and tired. Lauder asked the officer to halt his men for a rest and he would sing to them. I could see that they were loath to believe it was the real Lauder until he began to sing. “Then the doubts vanished and they abandoned themselves to the full enjoyment of this very unexpected pleasure. When the singsong began the audience would[61] number about two hundred; at the finish of it easily more than two thousand soldiers cheered him on his way. “It was a strange send-off on the way that led to a grave—the grave of a father’s fondest hopes—but so it was. A little way up the Bapaume road the car stopped and we clambered the embankment and away over the shell-torn field of Courcelette. Here and there we passed a little cross which marked the grave of some unknown hero; all that was written was ‘A British Soldier.’ He spoke in a low voice of the hope-hungry hearts behind all those at home. Now we climbed a little ridge and here a cemetery and in the first row facing the battlefield the cross on Lauder’s boy’s resting-place. “The father leaned over the grave to read what was written there. He knelt down; indeed, he lay upon the grave and clutched it, the while his body shook with the grief he felt. “When the storm had spent itself he rose and prayed: ‘O God, that I could have but one request. It would be that I might embrace my laddie just this once and thank him for what he has done for his country and humanity.’ “That was all, not a word of bitterness or complaint. “On the way down the hill I suggested gently that the stress of such an hour made further song that day impossible. “But Lauder’s heart is big and British. Turning to me with a flash in his eye he said: ‘George, I must be brave; my boy is watching and all the other boys are waiting. I will sing to them this afternoon though my[62] heart break!’ Off we went again to another division of Scottish troops. “There, within the hour, he sang again the sweet old songs of love and home and country, bringing all very near and helping the men to realize the deeper what victory for the enemy would mean. Grim and determined men they were that went back to their dugouts and trenches, heartened for the task of war for human freedom by Harry Lauder. Harry’s little kilted figure came and went from the war zone, but his influence remains, the influence of a heroic heart.” <hr class="tb" /> <h3>CAUSE FOR GRIEVANCE</h3> A wounded soldier explained his grievance to his nurse: “You see, old Smith was next to me in the trenches. Now, the bullet that took me in the shoulder and laid me out went into ’im and made a bit of a flesh-wound in his arm. Of course I’m glad he wasn’t ’urt bad. But he’s stuck to my bullet and given it his girl. Now, I don’t think that’s fair. I’d a right to it. I’d never give a girl ’o mine a second-’and bullet.” <hr class="tb" /> <h3>DOUBLY ANNOYING</h3> A German spy caught redhanded was on his way to be shot. “I think you English are brutes,” he growled, “to march me through this rain and slush.” “Well,” said the “Tommy” who was escorting him, “what about me? I have to go back in it.” <hr class="chap" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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