292 Sportsmen Parsons in Peace and War 



the poor men, who no doubt thought they had been left to die. 

 The ambulance moved off, but Evans could not bear to leave 

 the dead unburied, and begged for permission to remain. The 

 Colonel told him he was mad, it was too late in the afternoon 

 and the shelling was unceasing, and he had not been out of the 

 deadliest danger since early morning." 



The recounter of this little story was a chaplain, and he says 

 he does not know whether Evans' courage received recognition. 

 " But this I know, such men — and their name is legion — are 

 worthy of the highest honours. It was to minister to such men 

 I came out. Was it not worth while ? I trudged back to camp 

 with a song in my heart." 



The stretcher-bearers, who do such untiring and dangerous 

 work, never seem to come in for any recognition, yet many I 

 know have grown jumpy at times after ceaseless work amidst 

 revolting and heartbreaking scenes, carrying the wounded over 

 difficult ground, crossing and recrossing fire-swept centres, 

 while their own insides were empty, their clothes heavy with 

 mud and rain, their nerves all on the jump, and never a word of 

 encouragement. 



A relative of mine, writing in 1915 from the trenches in 

 Flanders, tells me of a soldier commanding a company in the 

 same trench as himself who before the war had been a Non- 

 conformist minister, but the sporting spirit had been too strong 

 in him, he felt he must be doing his bit actively. The letter is 

 long and full of interest, so I will begin where he leaves the 

 trenches after having been in occupation of one end while the 

 Germans held the other, the time having been distinctly lively. 



" It is a great mercy to be in billets again for a bit of a rest. 

 It is always interesting here behind the lines watching the 

 ceaseless industry that goes to keep a great army in being. I 

 cannot understand the foolish people who say that romance has 

 gone out of modern war. They must be the same people who go 

 to London for the first time and declare that the chief things to 

 impress them were the dome of St. Paul's and policemen con- 

 trolling traffic, utterly blind to the real point, which is, of course, 

 that London is like the Garden of Eden, in which the animals are 

 so tame that the birds of the air descend and feed from your 

 hand and the shy waterfowl leave the lakes and waddle at your 



