NEAR THE FIRING LINE.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 1751, 13 November 1917, Page 1

NEAR THE FIRING LINE.

TRIALS OF A Y-.M.C.A. WORKER. The folloAving article describes in a whimsical way some of the demands made upon the leaders of that amazing movement, the Y.M.C.A., in their advanced positions in France and Flanders. It is a someAvbat quaint business being almost the only permanent British resident in a place —one becomes a sort of Lost Dog’s Home. During the course of a recent day I was interviewed and assisted by information ( or otherwise) the folloAving:— (a) A chaplain who sought two other chaplains said vaguely to be billeted “somewhere about here.” (b) An officer in quest of signal cable. (c) Someone attached to a gas school who wanted a Strombos Horn. (cl) A captain running a cinema, and searching for missing films. (e) Two men searching for the senior medical officer of the district. 1 (f) A complete sanitary section looking for their billet, i (g) Three somewhat drunk Highlanders Avho had'nowhere to sleep, and did not know hoAV to get there if they had. Finally.— (h) Late at night, knocked up by a cyclist Avho wanted to borrow a map. One becomes also a repository for oddments of luggage, a postbox for letters, and an information bureau. It is quite easy to become one of the “oldest inhabitants” in a twn or village inhabited by the floating population of Avar; one has only to stop in one place a feAV Aveeks and the male population (British) changes as if by magic—sometimes lilterally in a night. At times one feels “disgruntled” and disorganised. But, of course, everyone lives in that condition out here, and orders to move may reach anyone at any time, in an estaminet, in their bath, in their sleep, during a service, or, worst of all, just before a meal. There arc also things which one cannot possibly do. Among them one remembers requests to — (a) Take charge of a monkey. (b) Send cablegrams to Australia. (c) Provide food for fifty men in half-an-hour. (d) Produce tAventy bottles of soda water in a dug-out miles from a toAvn. (e) Look after a lunatic. (f) Lecture on Russian music; and (g) Explain (briefly, on a high road) the prophecies in the Book of Revelation. From this it may be inferred that one’s duties are numerous and varied. “Admiral Crichton” Avould be soraeAvhat at a loss in places, I fancy. The acquirements of peacetime, such as an extensive fcnoAvledge of London, a close acquaintance Avith Bradshaw, and a slight idea of County Council by-IaAVS hardly help one out here. True, the regulations are plentiful —so plentiful, indeed, that one knows them all —but they seem to deal largely with offences against other regulations, and do not provide instructions as to methods of dealing with lunatics or refractory Scotchmen, or give any hint of hoAV to make a palatable meal out of cold “Maconehie” and biscuits, or even give a hint as to repairing ancient pianos or making a bed out of biscuit tins. It is curious to speculate Avhat we ■ shall all do when peace is declared, and avc get out of. the hideous mus-tard-coloured garments that we all affect, and are clothed again in dim coloured gloom. Shall Ave, for instance, be unable to Avalk about our native toAvn Avithout consulting a map? Shall we rename our native toAvn Avithout consulting a map. Shall avc rename our houses in irench fashion—“ Vermin Villa,” “Rats Retreat,” and the like? Shall we find ourselves unable to sleep in sheets or to use more than one knife and fork for our meals? Shall avg all forget to stamp our letters or to order our meals ? I do not knoAV. EAmryone is, however, entirely and absolutely determined, apres la guerre—(a) Never to talk of the war. (b) Never to eat anything out of a tin. (e) Never to grumble at anything at home.