KHAKI RELIGION.

Hokitika Guardian, 1 June 1918, Page 1

KHAKI RELIGION.

WHAT IT IS, Four “ rookies ” newly enlisted, we were lined up outside the plain brick barrack room. I advanced in my turn. “ Religion ?” A brisk old sergeant shot the query at me from inside the office window. “ Protestant,” I mumbled uncertainly. “C. of E.,” he promptly dotted down with other particulars, and handing me the address of our “civvy billet, dismissed me. I was vexed that I had not stated more exactly my classification, because my family were traditionally Nonconformists. However, I had read that in the Army Church of England men (C. of E.) are best off. So I said nothing during this early introduction to routine.

“Church of England, stand fast! Wo-levans, fall out on the left.” It was Sunday at the training depot, and the sergeant in command was forming parties to march to church or chapel, 1 hesitated. “What are yon?” “ Congregational." “ You go with the Wesleyans. You —next'' man—a Baptist? You do the same. What are you lot ?’ “ Presbyterians,” replied one of a file of Scotsmen who were fading rearward.

As there was no church handy approximating to this denomination, this move was checkmate.

“ All right. ‘ You five dismiss.”

The following Sunday the Scottish sect had trebled its adherents. So they were put on fatigues for the afternoon, which had the effect of shrinking next Sabbath's Presbyterians to two.

You think this is cynical. It conveys correctly the average Army attitude. Listen.

Every night that we four reciuits “ kipped ” together, our jolliest member, kneeling at the bedside, would ask for quiet, quickly conceded, while he prayed.

You will say, Typical of the genuine piety often hidden under a jester’s mask.” Not so .1 have met no other soldier who' did it. And only one soldier, in my hearing, has discussed religion thoroughly. He was Irish, a splendid fellow, and I took him for a Catholic,, which he was not. . .

Is the Army, then, irreligious? Listen again.

In the vacant recreation hut of a village behind the lines an Auzac started playing the piano by candlelight. “ Ozzies,” Imperials, West Indians began to drop in at the hut door. He was playing mainly the Kentucky, Tennessee, Dixie and Swanee River ditties, and sucli-like melodies of home. Men kept creeping in stealthily like associates of some secret union, and soon the room was full. The men sang to the piano’s leading with deep passion.

I was profoundly moved. I knew that in a hundred such rooms along the front khaki exiles were chanting sono-s made sacred because they deaf with heme and homelands overseas. “This is the soldiers’ religion,” I thought “Home! They talk, dream, think every hour about it ; they are genuinely themselves on this topic alone. 1 hey. worship it. Khaki has conventions of its own. The code fits the environment. It is- Be free with- your coin and chattels. Turn a' blind eye to a pal’s shortcomings. The tall talker the “ windy” one, the man who sees double of a night, are freely forgiven. Moral transgres sions are overlooked. But to be mean, to fawn on superiors lor favours, to abuse the power of one s ranks are unpardonable sins. Wliat can be more truly religious than tlie real Christian comradeship existing between man and man under the stress and Hardship of the line ? Here the humane virtues flourish like buds in March. And Life hasirtiever revealed herself nobler than.in men going into ac - tion to-day. Gaining . notlnng, scarcely even recognition, these obscure heroes step toward the abyss of the unknown which is death, not over-anxious, even cheerful, and with the mildness and modesty of .children: . . ■ ...