The Richmond palladium and sun-telegram. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1907-1939, 1917-11-12


London street just OF Tottenham
Court road; gray buildings, gray sky,
but on the pavement stream of glor- |
ious dusky-gold-t uniform Of men
in khaki A group of them stopped |
suddenly in front of a tall building on |
which was the sign OF the red triangle. |
They pulled OF their caps. swung
them in wide circle, and shouted:
Good old Y. M! Good old Y Nj"
Their young faces, moment before |
masked with that stole surface |
born of trench life. now spoke elo- |
quently their appreciation. their graft |
tude. They gave that gray Y. NJ. C. |
A. building the look man gives his |!
home.
We'll. 1t is the nearest thing to
home We have out there" one lad re-
piled. when l said something of the
sort to him.
We discovered that we had been
born within 100 miles of each other,
and then he spoke to me freely as SOL
der boys back from the front often
speak to people whom they do not
expect to see again.
These blessed little huts follow
our war lines wherever they go. They
come up under shell fire just as close
as the war office will let them. 1 can
never forget the first time l got into
support trenches. 1t was pretty hard
to sit. there under fire the first time,
and when cur seventy-two hours were
over staggered out of the communi-
cation trench half stupefied. The first
thing saw in meadow just up by
the road was Young Mems Chris
XI<, A S4&l AL lit 1I- 1rr
with hot coffee"
The soldiers eyes filmed over in
misty "reminiscences and / guessed they
must have known real tears when he
saw the Y. M. C. A worker quietly dip
/ sandwiches. That peaceful, normal
occupation must have helped bridge
| for him the chasm between the abnor-
malities of war and the normalities
of civilian life.
Eyes, ma'am," he continued, good
old Y M is about the last thing we
see going into the trenches and the
| first thing we see coming out. Where
can fellow be sure of hot food? The
Y. M. Where can he see cinema to
take his mind off the trenches? Lots
of the Y. M. huts have them. Where
can he hear little music. Good old
Y. M. has monographs. Biggest dis
appointment some of us had once was
| coming back to a hut near billets to
| find that a she'll had gone bang
| through the photograph. Does a
fellow want a quiet hour? He gets it
in the Y. M. Does he want some one
to talk to? Y. NJ. provides. I'm not
'pi,' but l 90 say Lord bless EN-"
This young soldier was quite evil
IDENTIFY not pious, as he said, but his
look showed that out there in the
trenches he had been thinking of the
deep things Of life. There were little
thoughtful lines, fresh-made, grooved
in his face. Therefore, 1t was not
hard to get him to speak further of
what the Y. M. C. A. had meant to
him.
81 used to kind Of shrink from a Y.
NJ. C.. A. man-before the war, I mean.
had silly idea they'd want to talk
to me about going to church, and ask
II I drank and smoked and swore and
ii my feet otherwise took hold on
hell. But they never talk religion to
you unless you start it first. What
they do for you is give you friend
ship and comfort. These Y M. G. A.
workers that go to France seem to be
chosen with a view to their influence
over the boys. Well, they have it, all
right. They seem to know just what
to say and do for us. I've known a
couple of fellows that turned religious
just because of the goodness of these
Y. M. c. A. people.
Som etimes," he went on slowly,
I'VE wonder if the people at home I'M
derstand just how hard it is for us out
| here. 1t isn't that l want to grouse;
we fellows have our bit to do; we
know what it is and how to do it. But
we need every reminder we can get of
home. We need letters and parcels
from our friends and we need these
Y. NJ. C. A. huts and refreshments and
amusements to bring home over here
to us and to remind US that the civil
ians are thinking Of us. Well, when
hear some woman, or an exempted
man saving, But ! gave money to the
T.. M. c. A. last year. feel like say
ing, We'll / gave you my blood last
years, as this gold stripe on my sleeve
shows, and I'll probably give it again
this year, If / don't give my life II
you saw us fellows crowding into the
huts, and those that can't get inside
gaping in through the window, you'd
know we haven't enough Of those huts
and that we appreciate to the full
those we do have. Lots of us fell like
saluting that red triangle almost as
we salute the flag. That's why we
pull off our caps and yell Good old
Y. Nj
Scarcely week afterward, one
Monday afternoon, was walking from
one little country village in Kent to
another when I fell in with a me-
chanic's wife. She had just returned
from doing days washing for a farm
er's wife In the neighborhood.
Il never worked out for any one be-
fore" she said, for | always 'ad all |
could do at 'ome. But my eldest, 'e's
in France, and it's what he wrote me
made me say to meself I'd get up at
'alf past twelve Monday morning and
do my own wash and then do Mrs.
Williams and give the pay earn to
the T. NJ. C. A. Because my boy. e
wrote and said l never could know
| 4t ~ - g.. D..