14 
LAND ^ WATER 
December 5, 1918 
you did at least admit that he was an interesting-looking 
person. Which would have pleased him enormously to hear. 
He went to France. He had often spoken of the ciiangcs 
in his mental and spiritual attitude which were likely to be 
caused by the battle-fields of France ; but he had never 
wondered, as many so much less introspective have wondered, 
whether he would be afraid. He knew he would not be 
afraid, simply because whatever might come to him would 
only offer him yet another of those spiritual adventures for 
which he hungered. Death least of all he feared. For to 
a man'like Mullins, whose every adventure is an adventure 
of the sou], the ne.xt world was simply an escape from the 
trammels of the body : a communion of spirits unfettered 
by spectacles and such-like matters, in which (I suspect) 
Mullins would do most of the communing. 
But he had another reason for looking upon death with a 
kindly eye. He was already in communication with many 
of those who had begun the adventure of the next world. 
In his actions in this world he was influenced by what they 
of the next world told him — (indeed, that is my story, as will 
be seen)— and now he was eager to join them, and himself 
to get to that great work of helping and guiding the earth- 
bound mortals whom he had left behind, but of whom he 
had never quite been one. 
All this sounds strange, and perhaps a little uncanny, but 
it was Mullins. li I say simply that he was a Spiritualist, 
you will think of table-rappings and other stupidities,, and 
do him an injustice. If I say that he was just a Christian 
who really believed all that the other Christians profess, I may 
be nearer the truth ; save that I do not know at all what 
his religion was. All I do know is that he believed the 
barrier between this world and the next to be a slight one, 
and was himself quite ready to pass it. 
And, of course, still more ready to talk about it. 
To be absolutely without fear is not the only virtue required 
of a Company Commander in France. Mullins was given 
his company, and then taken away from it. He disregarded 
the material too openly. He saw beyond the crown on his 
sergeant-major's arm into the blankness in his sergeant- 
major's soul, and preferred to consult his batman, whose 
arm was devoid of anything but wound-stripeS, but whose 
soul shone with crossed swords and stars. He was wrong 
about the sergeant-major, and wrong about the batman ; 
and, of course, still more wrong about the proper duty of an 
officer. So he was taken from his company and made 
Intelligence Officer instead. 
He did not mind. As Intelligence Officer he had much 
more scope. No soul is so clogged by the material as a 
Company Commander's, whose twin cares must ever be the 
stomachs and the feet of others. True, a Company Com- 
mander is the lord of his Company Mess, and nobody can 
stop him doing all the talking, whereas the Intelligence 
Officer at the H.Q. Mess must let the Colonel get. in a 
remark at times. But it must be remembered that the 
IntelHgence Officer's duties will take him to every part of 
the line, and consequently into all four Company Messes, 
and that if one mess is temporarily alert, another may be 
in tffat peaceful state when the uninterrupted soliloquy of a 
soul contemplating itself is inexpressibly soothing. 
But it was not all soliloquy, of course. He had his argu- 
nients with the unbelievers. The unbelievers were of two 
kinds ; the materialists who held that there was no life 
beyond the grave, and the religious who held that there was 
such a life, and that we should know all about it one day, 
but certainly not to-day. All alike scouted his pret«ice 
that the spirits of the dead could and did communicate with 
the living. Mullins argued earnestly with them, but did not 
resent their attjtude. They were just blind ; they were 
waiting until he could open their eyes with the proof ; possibly 
in this world, but more probably from that next world, when, 
as a spirit of the dead, he would have something to say to 
them. 
It was after Mullins had been out a year, had won the 
Military Cross, and had shown himself as good an Intelligence 
Officer as he was a bad Company Commander, that he came 
into possession of the famous stick. A great friend of his 
had been killed, and Mullins, home on leave, had called on 
that friend's people. He had been asked to choose a memento 
of the dead man, and had chosen-his stick — a short, heavy 
one, with plenty of weight in the head. During that night 
the dead man talked with Mullins, and told him how glad 
he was that Mullins had his stick. "That stick will do 
great things for you," he said; "it will save the Hves of 
many of your battalion." 
Mullins still had four days of leave ; four days in which 
to tell everybody in London of this wonderful communica- 
tion with the dead. Some, perhaps, believed ; some smiled. 
Mullins himself was happy and excited. To the friends who 
saw him off, his last remark was: "Look out for news of 
the old stick," and he waved it gleefully at them. Two 
days later everybody in the battalion had heard that Mullins' 
new stick was going to save their lives, and had indicated 
that he was a silly ass. . . . They also told him that he 
was just in time for the new push'. 
• * * • ' • * 
The battalion was held up, and resented it. The leading 
company on the left licked its wounds in a disused trench — 
God knows what trench or whose, for this bit of country had 
been fought over, backwards and forwards, for two years- — 
and wondered what to do about it. A hundred and fifty 
yards away, a Boche machine-gun was engaged in keeping 
their heads down for ttiem. The Company Commander 
squinted up at it, and squinted again at his watch, and 
cursed all machine-guns. Suppose they charged it ? But 
a hundred and fifty yards was the devil of a way, and that 
damned machine-gun had killed enough of them already. 
Suppose he sent a couple of men out to stalk it ? Slow 
work, but — he looked at his watch again. Why the devil 
had this happened, when everything had been going so well 
before ? , And here they were — stuck — and seemed to have 
lost the swing of it. Momentum — that was the word — 
momentum all gone. Well, something would have to be done. 
He looked along the trench,, considering. . . . 
.And on the extreme right of it a tall, thin figure emerged 
from the ruck, and hoisted itself leisurely over the top. 
Mullins. He carried no revolver. His tin hat was on the 
back of his head, his coat collar, for some reason, turned up. 
Both his hands were in his pockets, and in the crook of his 
left arm lay the famous stick. 
With an air of pleasant briskness he walked towards the 
Boche machine-gunner. He did not hurry, for this was not 
so much an operation against the enemy as a demonstration 
to unbelievers on the home front. Neither did he dawdle. 
He just went to the machine-gun as in peace days he would 
have gone to the post on a fresh spring morning. 
He had a hundred and fifty yards to go. From time to 
time his right hand came out of his pocket, fixed his glasses 
more firmly on his nose, and returned to his pocket again. 
Just in this way he must have walked out of the Great Court 
at Trinity to a lecture many, many times, hands in pockets, 
hunched shoulders, coat collar up, and gown or tooks tucked 
under the left arm. So he walked now . . . and still he 
was not hit. 
I have tried to explain Mullins to you ; I shall not try to 
explain that Boche machine-gunner. He may have thought 
Mullins was coming to surrender. The astonishing spectacle 
of Mullins may have disturbed his aim. The numerous 
heads popping up to gape at the back view of Mullins may 
have kept him too busy to attend to Mullins, ... or there 
may have been other reasons. I do not know. At any 
rate, Mullins was not hit. 
So Mullins walked up to the machine-gunner. A yard 
away from him he took his right hand from his pocket, 
withdrew the stick from the crook of his left arm, and in a 
friendly way hit the machine-gunner over the head with it. 
The man collapsed. Mullins picked him up by the collar, 
shook him to see if he was shamming, dropped him, replaced 
the stick in the crook of his left arm, fixed his glasses on his 
nose, took the man by the collar again, and started to drag 
him back to the British trench. Once or twice he got a 
little entangled between the stick, the prisoner and the 
attention necessary for his glasses, hesitating between drop- 
ping the stick and fixing the glasses with his left hand, and 
dropping the prisoner and fixing them with his right. But 
in the end he arrived safely at the trench with all three 
possessions. Once there, he handed the prisoner over, and 
then stood beaming down at the Company Commander. 
"Well," he said, pushing his glasses firmly on to his nose, 
"and what about the jolly old stick, nowl" 
****** 
If this were not a true story, T should say that Mullins 
got the Victoria Cross. Actually they gave h[m a bar to his 
Military Cross. The real "MuJlins," if he reads this, will 
recognise the incident, though he will protest that I have 
quite misunderstood his personality and have failed alto- 
gether to appreciate his spiritual attitude. Perhaps I have. 
A writer must be allowed his own way in these matters. 
We start with a fact or two, the impression of a face, and in 
a Httle while we do not know how much is reality and how 
much is our day dream. 
Yet, at least, he will admit that I have helped to open 
the eyes of the blind. I have put on record the "proof" 
for which the unbelievers have been waiting. 
But, for myself, I neither believe nor disbelieve. All I 
say is that if to believe is to be as fearless as Mullins, I could 
wish that I believed. 
