A SOLDIER I would be, and a soldier I became, and having enlisted, my whole heart was bent on soldiering.
I well remember the time when I was ordered to India, when a Christian friend came up, offering to purchase me out of the army. I declined his kind offer, for I like the idea of going abroad, so I said, I preferred taking my chance.
Two days afterward we sailed, and, after most enjoyable and prosperous voyage, duly arrived at our destination. Shortly afterwards being promoted sergeant, I could have my fling, and took every advantage of the position. As you well know, men, some people give soldiers a bad name, and I do not altogether wonder at it, for too many of us―myself among the number―have, like the prodigal wasted our substance in riotous living. How much better it had been for me, when a young sergeant, if I had remembered the words “Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes, but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment.”
Perhaps in no other sphere of life as amongst soldiers and sailors do we find suffered to pass unheeded, so many and such repeated warnings as to the uncertainty of life. In India especially, it is no uncommon thing to find that your most intimate comrade with whom but a moment ago you were conversing, has been carried into hospital, and the very next thing you hear is that he is dead! Funerals are of frequent occurrence and surely each one should, speak loudly to the survivors, “Prepare to meet. thy God.” But you know how it is, comrades; time wears off such impressions, and soon we forget all about the dear fellow whose vacant place is quickly filled When the Afghan war broke out my battery was ordered to the front, and the monotonous daily routine of Indian barrack life gave place to bustle and commotion, and the wildest excitement at the thought of winning for ourselves name and glory. Perhaps, men most of you will remember that on the conclusion of peace between us and the Afghans, in May, 1879, Sir Louis Cavagnari was sent as the British Envoy to the city of Kabul; also that he was foully murdered in cold blood, in September of the same year. This occasioned the renewal of hostilities, and an army, under General Roberts, was speedily dispatched across the Shutargardan Pass, (eleven thousand feet high) into Afghanistan, through the Logar Valley, to avenge the death of our envoy.
The whole of the little army being assembled, we marched on Kabul, which city is six days distant from the foot of the Shutargardan Pass. On October 6th 1879, we encountered the Afghan Army at Charasiab, before Kabul, they being posted on the heights which surround that city. Having defeated them, we forced our’ way into Kabul, which we occupied October 7th, 1679.
This day will ever be a memorable one to me, because on it I was very near losing my life. Having become separated from my battery, and whilst seeking the shortest route to rejoin it, I found I had to cross a water-course. I urged my over-tired horse to jump it, but, owing to its width, he failed to clear it, and rolling back we, both fell into the gully, he falling upon me. A Highlander, seeing the predicament, hurried to my assistance, and helped me up, thus saving me from death by drowning. “Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!” But I did not then know Him who had in the riches of His goodness, both preserved my life in the battle, and also from a watery grave. Do listen now, every man, of you, to His words, and “Acquaint now thyself with Him, and be at peace; thereby good shall come unto thee.”
On October 7th and 8th our cavalry brigade pursued the Afghan army, and completely dispersed it. Quiet was pretty well maintained from that time until December, on the ninth day of which month a brigade was ordered out. The environs of Kabul were now the scene of several operations, which continued until December 13th, when there was a serious engagement.
In the thick of the fight, with brave fellows lying killed or wounded on all sides, very solemn and serious thoughts crowded into my mind. Above the sound of voices which shouted for the mastery, louder than the shrill blast of trumpets and the ceaseless thunder of artillery, more terrible even than the shrieks of the wounded and dying, constantly there sounded in my ears one word, “Eternity!” I repeatedly sought to drive it away, yet would it ever return, repeating itself with truly awful distinctness, “Eternity! eternity”
As I looked around for a moment upon the blanched faces of the dead and the dying, I wondered where their souls had gone, or would go; then the thought returned, with a force perfectly irresistible, “If you are called away, where will you spend eternity?” I tell you, my dear comrades, it was not death I feared. I could have rushed to the cannon’s mouth, and faced instant death, but I knew that the word of God states that after death comes the judgment. It was this judgment I feared, realizing that I was not prepared to meet my God.
After the battle had ceased for the day, I tried to forget the warning voice. How we that had come out of the fight scatheless congratulated one another But not one did I see go down upon his knees to thank God for our preservation.
When the morrow came the fighting was renewed, and again many a brave comrade was stricken down, and He, who so mercifully preserved me, again spoke to my soul.
We had to retire into our cantonments, being invested by an Afghan army, numbering many thousands. This state of things continued until December 24th when we beat off the enemy.
On December 25th what a sight met our gaze! We had ourselves been for days standing at the very gate of hell, and in the jaws of death, but now we found the Afghan dead and wounded lying about in all directions, many wounded having succumbed to the severe frost. Where had the souls of these poor Moslems gone? Oh! where? The horror of the thought became intensified as I thought once more of our comrades who had fallen. Should I ever meet them again, and where? Oh, men, all of you, do let me beg of you to seek the Lord while He may be found, and to call upon Him while He is near, for “he that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him.”
On many occasions during this campaign the deadly bullet was turned aside. Once, while sitting on my horse, the enemy being quite close to us, a bullet flattened itself on the spare wheel immediately in front of me, and fell to the ground. Surely, comrades, this and many other narrow escapes, which could be related, were not by accident, but through the direct intervention of God, my life was preserved as by miracle.
But even a greater deliverance did I afterwards experience. After the Afghan campaign was closed, we were ordered down to India. The exposure and excitement I had endured brought on a serious illness on my reaching India, and it lasted for some months after my return to England, but my life was spared.
On a Sunday night, a very short time after my recovery, I entered a little mission hall, muttering to myself as I did so, “I’ll just drop in here and pass away an hour or so.” I was utterly miserable, discontented, and dissatisfied with myself and all around. Then I heard again that night the voice which had spoken to my soul as we fought before Kabul. Then it searched me with terrible effect. Now it attracted me by its very sweetness and gentleness. But it was the same voice, men, indeed the very same. “Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that heareth My word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto life.” It was a man who preached the word, but the message came from heaven to me that night, from One whose
“Errand to the world was love, Love to a wretch like me.”
As I listened to His words of love, my past history stood out in all its terrible blackness. “The dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and they that hear shall live.” And I, though “dead in trespasses and sins,” was privileged, that night, to hear in my inmost soul the voice of the Son of God, and I, hearing it lived. At His own hands, and from none other, I received the gift of God, which is eternal life. And the joy that followed is “unspeakable and full of glory.”
Look here, comrades, these stripes and these bars were honestly won; I would not forfeit any of them for a trifle. But much more, very, very much more, do I value my portion in Christ. I would not be without it, men, for all that this world holds dear.
My desire for you, one and all, is that you have the same blissful portion. If you seek Christ, He will be found of you. He has promised it, and He will perform it. Enlist this moment in His service, and you will never have cause to repent having so done.
“The Lord my banner,” may this be the one object before every one of you. God grant that all of you, by believing, may become good soldiers of the Lord Jesus Christ. G. T.