OVERVIEW:
YOUR BOYS by Gipsy Smith is a heartfelt
collection of reflections and experiences from the author's time as a chaplain
during World War I, written in the early 20th century. The book focuses on the
valor and spirit of the soldiers, often referred to as "your boys,"
emphasizing their struggles, camaraderie, and the deep connections forged in
the face of adversity. Smith aims to convey a unifying message of love for both
the soldiers and the teachings of Jesus, highlighting the spiritual sustenance
that can be found even amidst the horrors of war. In "Your Boys,"
Gipsy Smith shares anecdotes from his time working with soldiers on the front
lines, revealing their thoughts, feelings, and struggles as they combat the
challenges of war. He recounts moments of compassion, bravery, and humor that
exemplify the spirit of the men he encountered, such as a colonel who insisted
on serving the troops before himself, and the spontaneous singing of hymns amid
the chaos of battle. Throughout the narrative, Smith illustrates how faith
plays a significant role in the lives of these soldiers, showing that despite
the tragic circumstances, they find strength in their relationships with one
another and in their belief in Christ. The book serves as a tribute to these
brave individuals, encouraging readers to appreciate their sacrifices and the
love that binds humanity together.
The following excerpt from YOUR BOYS is titled YOUR
BOYS, Page 23:
YOUR BOYS - Page 23
At one of my meetings, the boys were four
thousand strong and the commandant of the camp was to preside. As they say in
the army, he had got the wind-up. He did not know me. When he saw the crowd
there, he began to wonder what was going to happen. He called one of the
officers to him and said, “I don’t know what he’s going to do. I hope he’s not
going to give us a revival meeting or something of that sort. I hope he knows
that one-third of these fellows are Roman Catholics.”
Well, of course, I knew, and I was laying my
plans accordingly. What right have you or me when we have got a mixed crowd
like that to try to cram our preconceived program down everybody’s throat? The
officer, who was one of my friends, said to the Colonel, “I don’t think you
need trouble, sir. He’s all right and knows his job.”
When we were ready, I went to the
Colonel and said, “We are quite ready to begin, sir.”
The Colonel rose and announced,
“Officers, noncommissioned officers, and men; I now introduce to you Gipsy
Smith, who will perform.”
Now, the first thing I wanted to do
was to disarm all prejudice in the minds of both officers and men. So I said,
“Are you ready, boys?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, we’ll have our opening hymn,
‘Keep the Home Fires Burning.’”
And didn’t those boys sing that?
Some of them were smoking, and I wasn’t going to tell them not to smoke. That
would have put their backs up. They were British boys and they knew what to do
when the right moment came. And so I said, “Boys, you sang that very well, but all of you were not singing. Now,
if we have another, will you all sing?” And they answered, “Yes.” I knew if
they sang, they couldn’t smoke. So we had “Pack
up Your Troubles,” and this time every smoke was out and every boy was
singing. “We’ll have another,” I said when they had finished; “we’ll have—
‘Way
down in Tennessee
Just
try to think of me
Right
on my mother’s knee.’”
I knew if I got them around their
mothers’ knees, I would be all right. “Now, boys,” I said, “what am I to talk
to you about?” I often let them choose their subject.
“Tell us the story of the gipsy
tent,” they called out.
And there I was at home, and it was
all right, and for an hour I told them the story of how grace came to that
gipsy tent—the old romance of love.
“Now, boys, I’m through,” I said
when I had spoken for an hour—and they gave me an encore. When I finished my
encore, the dear old Colonel got up to thank the “performer,” but he couldn’t
do it; there was a lump in his throat and big tears were rolling down his
cheeks.
“Boys, I can’t say what I want to,
but,” he said. “We have all got to be better men.”
The Gospel was preached in that hut
in a different way from what we have it preached at home, but we got it in, and
the thing is to get it in.
************************************************
I was talking behind the lines to
some of your boys. Every boy in front of me was going up to the trenches that
night. There were five or six hundred of them. They had got their
equipment—they were going on parade as soon as they left me. It wasn’t easy to
talk. All I said was accompanied by the roar of the guns, the crack of rifles,
and the rattle of the machine guns, and once in a while, our faces were lit up
by the flashes. It was a weird sight. I looked at those boys. I couldn’t preach
to them in an ordinary way. I knew and they knew that for many, it was the last
service they would attend on earth. I said,
“Boys, you are going up to the
trenches. Anything may happen there. I wish I could go with you. God knows I
do. I would if they would let me, and if any of you fall, I would like to hold
your hand and say something to you for mother, for wife, for a lover, and for a little child.
I’d like to be a link between you and home for just that moment—God’s
messenger for you. They won’t let me go, but there is somebody who will go with
you. You know Who that is.”
You should have heard the boys all
over that hut whisper, “Yes, sir—Jesus.”
“Well,” I said, “I want every man
that is anxious to take Jesus with him into the trench to stand.”
Instantly and quietly, every man in
that hut stood up. And we prayed as men can pray only under those conditions.
We sang together, “Forever with the Lord.”
I shall never sing that hymn again without a lump in my throat. My mind will
always go back to those dear boys.
We shook hands and I watched them
go, and then on my way to the little cottage where I was billeted, I heard feet
coming behind me, and presently felt a hand lay upon my shoulder. Two grand
handsome fellows stood beside me. One of them said, “We didn’t manage to get
into the hut, but we stood at the window to your right. We heard all you said.
We want you to pray for us. We are going into the trenches, too. We can’t go
until it is settled.”
We prayed together, and then I shook
hands with them and bade them goodbye. They did not come back. Some of their
comrades came—those two, with others, were left behind. But they had settled
it—they had settled it!
You can find the complete eBook YOUR BOYS by Gipsy Smith at: https://tinyurl.com/43pu8buu
Next time: ONE YOUNG MAN
by Sir J. E. Hodder-Williams . . . . .
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