240 sportsmen Parsons in Peace and War 



His desire to see some active service was gratified at last, for 

 directly he landed in France he went into the firing-line, where 

 he almost at once met his death. 



In a letter to his late vicar which he wrote from the firing-line, 

 he spoke of Donald Hankey, whom in some ways he resembled. 

 He had been reading an article of his in the Spectator entitled 

 " Do not Worry," which he thought very fine and true. Like 

 the writer of whom he spoke, he was without fear and died quite 

 happily and cheerfully at his post, trusting in God's mercy. 



It is heartbreaking to think what it must be to some of our 

 boys straight out from home, where they have been sheltered 

 from all things hurtful and unpleasant, suddenly plunged into 

 scenes of carnage, bloody human shambles, the earth rocking 

 with vibrations of the ceaseless guns, the bursting of shells and 

 the cries of agony all around. Small wonder that it turns the 

 brains of even experienced soldiers who have been in many a 

 battle ; but hitherto the world has never seen battles that are 

 now the daily bill-of-fare for our troops. 



A letter I received from a very young and near relation of 

 mine in 1915, written from one of those stormed trenches, gives 

 some idea of what our boys experience. 



" No one place is safer than another in the trench, as these 

 great shells dig out the entire section of trench they hit, and 

 bury everything and everyone under tons of earth. At the end 

 of the day there are hundreds of yards of trench that could only 

 be traced in the ground. Quite early in the day my pack and 

 equipment were blown to nothingness. 



" So the endless days wear on. Survivors rushing to the 

 places where the last salvos had burst, where the half-buried 

 and crushed were shrieking hoarsely for help, digging frenziedly 

 with tools and hands like dogs, in their efforts to release the men 

 before they were suffocated. 



" If you found legs sticking out of the earth you pulled at 

 them ; if there was any response you tried to pull them out, but 

 if they made none you presumed they were dead, and dug 

 where you could be some use. 



" An oldish grey-looking man near me who had been quietly 

 chuckling to himself and drawing figures in the mud with his 

 finger, suddenly gave yells of laughter and sprang out of the 



