Mr. C. S. Ross has sent me this letter, saying in his note to me, “I am sending you a letter from a soldier in France to his mother... Incidents such as this give great encouragement to parents and those who labor amongst the young to persevere in their work for Christ. How often have we found that a Scripture implanted in the young heart has proved effectual upon the field of battle.”
The Letter
My dear Mother, — You will wonder and be anxious at my long silence, but now I will explain all, and you will see how impossible it was for me to write before. I have been ill for three months, and I did not want to worry you; so I waited until I was better. And now I have good news to tell you. It belongs to one night just before Christmas. Oh, shall I ever forget that night! We were a bit surprised in the morning that we were in for fighting that day. The troops were astir with the dawn, and we got on the move towards the enemy’s position. We had not got far when the boom of cannon told us that a battle for life and death had begun.
Things went on all right until we got about five hundred yards off the enemy, when I got hit with a piece of shell in my foot. However, I managed to limp along and kept on. Then my company got orders to reinforce the supports, so we doubled away to the left. We did not get very far before I was struck to-the ground. Luckily the shell did not burst, or I should have been blown to pieces. I felt so queer, when all at once I seemed to see your dear face close to mine. I remember a comrade came and undid my belt; then I suppose I must have been unconscious. I must have lain like that for hours, for when I woke up it was dark, and the stars shining. There was a strange quiet all about me. I put out my hand and touched a comrade, but though I called him he made no answer, and soon I knew he must he dead. I tried to lift myself up, but fell back exhausted. Then I knew what had happened. The fighting had ceased, and I was left among the dead with others of my poor comrades who had fallen. Oh! it was a shock to find myself lying there, powerless to help myself, a dull ache all over me, and a sharp pain when I stirred. Doubtless there were a big number of dead comrades around.
How soon should I be dead? Oh mother, I can’t tell you the awfulness of that moment! I was alone and, I believe, within a few minutes of death. Something that Mr. — once said to me in one of those nice walks he took me as a lad came to my mind. “You’ll want God one of these days;” said he, and “don’t forget He is waiting for you, wishing to be gracious to you.” Then I thought of some verses you taught me as a youngster (oh! you were a good mother to your boy!), and bits of hymns. I tried to put a verse or two together of this one, “Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me; bless thy little lamb tonight”; and you would never believe how there, under the starlit sky, those simple words soothed me; but they made me think. I, Tom —, was no longer a little lamb. I was a black sheep, old in wickedness, a wandering sheep. Oh! mother, it all came back to me then — your teaching, your prayers, your life as a true Christian. I sobbed my heart to God, and asked Him to forgive me all my sins for Christ’s sake, and He settled it there and then out in the cold night. He said to me, “My son, give Me thine heart,” and I answered, “Lord, it is Thine.” The terrors of death left me, for He stood beside me Who took away all fear, and I wept for joy. I am writing this very fully from my heart. I feel you, dearest of mothers, will understand and rejoice.
Well, they came round in the morning to bury their dead. I remember clutching at a comrade’s arm as he was lifting the next poor chap from the ground; but I had no voice to speak, and soon became unconscious. When I awoke I was in the Base Hospital, where they have been very good to me. Sister would have written to you, but I wanted to tell you the good news myself, and soon I shall be with you, for, although my wounds are healing, I am to have a spell at home. When I get home we will thank God together, won’t we? ―Your loving and dutiful son, Tom.