The Rev. J. W. Adams, V.C. 5 



All who have spoken to me of that stirring time have 

 said, " The Padre was as cool as a cucumber the whole 

 day." 



For a shepherd to save three out of his flock in one day was 

 at that time a record anyone might be proud of, especially 

 when we remember he carried no weapon for self-defence — not 

 even a crook. . . . And thus he earned his V.C. 



Until this great war I think Mr. Adams was the only clergy- 

 man with the Victoria Cross, that simple -looking and coveted 

 little medal first bestowed upon soldiers after the Crimea, when 

 on June 26th, 1857, in Hyde Park, Queen Victoria, in the 

 presence of her husband and Lord Colin Campbell, decorated 

 sixty -two heroes with the Cross. The ceremony was over in 

 ten minutes ! 



How strange are the workings of men's minds, that a 

 ceremony taking only a few short moments and the bestowal 

 of a modest small bronze medal " For Valour " should be so 

 prized, so longed for, with a longing almost beyond words to 

 describe ; should so fill them with pride, so recompense them for 

 lost health, lost limbs, and without doubt lost youth. 



Men may be worn out in victory as well as in defeat. Who 

 could ever feel young again after the hardships they had endured, 

 and the scenes they had witnessed ? 



But men think whole worlds of that bit of red ribbon on 

 their breasts that will hve with them all their lives, will ensure 

 them a welcome anywhere. One hero lately expressed himself 

 thus to me, " With my V.C. I can just spit anywhere I like." 

 It was a trifle crude, but I know what he meant. 



In the hearts of those decorated and receiving the thanks of 

 their Queen after the Crimea, must have been the tender 

 memory of others who had been just as brave, but who could 

 never receive any thanks or medal. 



The following verses, written by Mr. Ivan Heald, must have 

 exactly described their feelings. He wrote them when evacuat- 

 ing the Dardanelles, and when I remember the naturally 

 joyous-hearted writer, who was always happy, always cheery, 

 and enjoyed every moment of his life when I knew him in pre- 

 war days, the lines bring home eloquently what men feel when 

 leaving their pals behind. The verses will find an echo in many 

 hearts to-day. 



