OUR BLINDED SOLDIERS

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3080, 10 May 1917, Page 6

OUR BLINDED SOLDIERS

ST. DUNSTAN'S HOSTEL ITS WONDERFUL WORK ITho accompanying articlo on St. 'Dunstan's Hostel for ljlinded Soldiers and {jailors was written for ' The Dominion by Trooper Oiutha Mackenzie, son of isir Thomas High Commissioner lor iSew Zealand Jh London. Trooper ■Mackenzie, who lost his sight in an engagement on tiie tiaUipoli Peninsula, is at present on a visit to Wellington.] 1 had not iong beoii in our hospital at \Yalion-oii-Thanies hetore 1 hoard or St. Jjunstan's. I arrived at Walton in those days when A'mv Zealand soldiers wore still objects of great interest, and naturally, as a hliuded Now Zealander, 1 attracted a great deal of attention. iily mails were large aud "deeply sympathetic. "Some letters were dreadfully lugubrious, and 'indicated that I might just as well bo. dead as in my present condition. Others were more cheerful, and told me so much concerning a gentleman named Fawcett, who had lost his sight, and' later ' become Postmaster-General of .Britain, that I was almost inspired to write his Jife. 1 heard, too, all about their particular friend who had lost his sight, and how simply wonderful he was, etc., etc. Scyoial dear souls kindly offered to guide mo in the path of Christian Science, or to bring me into communication with the spirits of the next world so that I might not pine for company. I received many gifts of sweets and fruits, so fhat the rest of the ward rejoiced gladly and grew fat. Dear ladies offered me pets, mostly in the form of Pekinese dogs, to comfort me in my distress.

Visitors came and went in long procession. Some hold my hand for long weary minutes, and wept mournfully, while I felt a fool and longed to laugh. Others made valiant efforts to raise me from that gloom into which they imagined 1 was cast, while I grew steadily more bored and poison-faced' with each long-winded repetition of Fa-w----cett's life, and of the wonderful, simply I wonderful, dueds performed by the particular blind friendl of each. Newspaper interviewers called, and described me later as a. "pathetic sight," "a distressing figure, , ' "haggard and drawn, and with an expression of resigned hopelessness," etc. Press agency people snapped mo in characteristic atxitudes, and designated the' results with sentimental and heroic alliterations. ■ • It was all well meant, and, if some of my kindly visitors were a trittc dull, Uio whole business was highly amusing, aud, at-times, most entertaining. And certainly, many were so interesting and jolly that 1 should have sadly missed their visits. But amongst thorn all there was one person whose iiret visit 1 enjoyed above all others, aud whoso future oomings wejo the milestones of my new life. That was Air. (J. Arthur Pearson, who had not theu received his baronetcy. It was he, as everyone in England knows, who organised, and now controls, that splendid place for soldiers who have been wounded so regrettably— one cannot put it otherwise. It is some years since he lost his own sight, a calamity which has done much for the blind world, for since then he Ids devoted the whole of his energies and his power with the Press to the development of the full faculties ind capabilities of blind people. So novr it is that, with already 500 of the Empire's soldiers blinded in the war, he works night and day, so that these- men may feel lightly their disadvantage. He vehemently deprecates the point of view that a blind person is. suffering from an "affliction," the disadvantage of which oan never be overcome, and seeks to make all of us as useful citizens as we would havo boen had no war intervened in our lives.

In the normal course of events, i>is wounds healed, a blind soldier .would be turned out of hospital with a suit of mufti and a scanty pittance from a generous Government. In most oases he would go to his home, there to be wept over, lamented with, and to nave his future regarded as an utter blank, and ho himself as a useless burden both to himself and his family. Indeed, many would beconre'so. He might not be allowed to do anything ior himself, his sympathetic relatives going, perhaps, even to the length of washing, dressing, and feeding him. Ho would become dependent, bored with bf* through lack of occupation, the first essential of blind life, and would eventually gravitate in the direction of tho nearest publichouse, there to find solace in the usual manner. Educated by his associates to his miserable and useless state, with no prospect of useful occupation, home, aud happiness, he would sink into deepondency. Some pensions might be eked out by the sale of matches, papers, or postcards, or; with tho assistance of a large notice, "Blinded in the war," and a hurdy-gurdy.

Sir Arthur Pearson has seen to it that such is not to be our fate. All this I learned from Sir Arthur during his visits to me at Walton, where ho came every Saturday afternoon dunng the months I was there.

Later, after convalescence, I .iveni to live with Sir Arthur, and took my lessons daily at St. Dunstan's, which is a, line large property in Regent's Park. The house Btands in many acres of beautiful grounds, and. round it clusters almost a small village of yorkshops, dormitories, smoke-rooms,' and the like. There are in residence nowadays about 150 fellows, in hospital about 60, , and another 50 at the two convalescent hemes on the south coast, in all of which preliminary lessons are taught, and the mind occupied with handiwork, games, and reading, not to mention plenty of exercise in the'way of walking. At St. Dunstan's a fellow soon finds hi) is not tho only blind pebble on tho beach, and learns that there is not always a sister or a fond mother waiting at his beck and sail to guide every step he wishes to take. Now he must move about by himself, and soon he is shooting round at a rate prejudicial to tho safety of any sighted persons should they not keep their eyes open. All paths, passages, and stairs are ingeniously laid out with rail and carpet guides. Keen competition grows amongst tho men as to who can £,et cbout farthest and most quickly. A London fog brings their greatest delight, for then they can put lost Londoners ou their way.

Consideration is taken of each man's capabilities, former occupations, and future desires in placing him to a trade. First of all, of course, a man is tborouglily grounded in Braille reading and writing and typewriting. At the same time lie is started in whatever trade is likely to he most suitable. Should he aspire to an open lifo, poul-try-farming and markot-gardening are open to him, and it ie marvellous how astute the fellows become in telling; tlio various breeds of fowls by 'touch only. Thero is much variety of handiwork—boot repairing, basket malting, mat making, carpentry, and netting. Often one of theso is learned as a "hobby by some of those who are following mental work. One occupation which has proved most successful, one in' Which blind men even surpass sighted peoplo, is massage, and even' now about fifteen of the soldiers aro making excellent progress in military and civilian hospitals in England. One of our . own fel-

lows, Scrgt. Woods, Otago Battalion, lias been installed for almost a year at JMiuuner Sanatorium, where he is doing splendid work. Another one, .Rifleman Campbell, is now at his course. Secretarial work is another good opening; and. if a fellow has been thoroughly trained in typing and business methods, good business positions as advertising and insurance agents are open. Law, tho church, and journalisrii, are other selections.

Sporting and recreation are greatly encouraged at St. Dunstau's. Four hours daily are prescribed for work, though the fellows may, and usually do, work longer hours. At twelve o'clock the entrance is crowded with a chattering bevy of the fair sex, gathered to take the boys for their morning wnlk, or for a row on the kke hard by. Rowing is tho most popular form of exercise, and some of the crows have already earned reputations. Weird and wonderful sounds float round the buildings from every variety of musical instrument, and times were when in the quiet room, one might hear half a dozen gramophones and a. pianola in wild competition. The boys are rather blase, tor all the leading artists of London give of their best at the many concerts in the' large lounge. The most popular institution is the weekly dance, when a pretty . crowd whirls enthusiastically round the I )'oom and Cupid has his "say at St. I Dunstan's. Many of the boys are get- . ting married, and a fine stamp of jolly, capable wivt'S they are getting, too. So life- goes merrily in this cheery home, and when tho time comes, as como it must, and a man, fully .equipped for his now life, stands ready to leave, he is lo.ath to go. Those were jolly days; but he goes to a pleasant I home which has been found for him in : the locality lie has selected, and where his poultry farm, his boot repairing i business or his what-n.ot has been prepared. And there he settles down I with a. comfortable home, usually a liappy wife, and with a prosperous 'business. His future comfort and prosperity are watched over by the After Care Department of St. Dunstan's. So n.ow, instead of the rather gloomy picture I presented towards the beginning of this article of the probable future of a sightless soldier, there now lies before him a life of utility and happiness, and there is no reason, why, under these circumstances, a blind soldier should not make ae good a husband as any other. Indeed, just that small amount of assistance which must always be required by a blind man must surely make'connubial life run more smoothly than usual; Half a dozen New Zealanders have been through the hostel, and we are all deeply grateful for the good we have 'derived from our training, and ■wo must express our deepest and sincerest gratitude to Bir Arthur Pearson and tho generous contributors, both in Now Zealand and elsewhere, who have enabled him to carry out his splendid work. Were all wounded soldiers treated in the Bame manner as we who have lost our. sight, the social and labour problems which must prevail after this war, eoiild not, assume the proportions they promise at present.