In his monthly letter to his
parishioners in Windhill,
published 14 April 1916, Rev
Whincup gave a picture of his life
while serving as chaplain to the West
Yorkshire Regiment in France,
describing the small villages in which
they were billeted as ‘a pathetic
spectacle.’
They must be poor sorts of places
even in in the most peaceable times
but after months and months of
neglect, together with the
wholesale damage which the shells
and the ravages of war generally
have caused, they appear more
uninviting than ever.
Exultation
And yet, however desolate the
village looks, it is entered with a
certain feeling of exultation for it
often marks the end of the day’s
march at any rate and in the minds
of many it is heaven compared to
the trenches.
Amongst the chief thing for which
most of those villages are noted are
rat and stray dogs. The dogs, with
true military instinct, very soon
attach themselves to the different
regiments for “rations” while the
rats manage to procure the rations
without any very visible signs of
attachment.
Rats abound, rats of truly
prodigious size according to all
one hears.
It’s an ill-wind that blows nobody
any good and already the rat
presents himself as a most
convenient scapegoat for the loss,
the theft and the waste of all
manner of things.
Being, however, entirely immune
from field punishment and all such
objectionable practices, the rat goes
on his way rejoicing despite the
fact that he may be called upon to
bear the sins of many.
I have not been much impressed by
many of the French and Belgian
churches which I have seen. With
all due respect to the deep
religious devotion of many of
the local people in this country,
yet their churches seem to lack
the quiet dignity of most of our
English churches.
Cathedral
We recently marched through a
city which has a very fine
cathedral; some of the glass was
exquisite and the whole conception
of the building was most chaste
and beautiful.
But here again some very ornate
decorations around the altar and
the pulpit and in other parts of the
edifice seemed to considerably
spoil the general effect, but there
was no mistaking the stately
grandeur of the pile as one
approached the city.
I often wonder what the French
really think about us British
people. We seem to be so different
from the French in all sorts of ways
and there need be little surprise if
all kinds of little misunder-
standings occasionally arise. Here
we are, a perfect multitude of us,
we seem to have practically taken
possession of the country for miles
and miles all around here.
We have our own railways, all our
own police, our own postal system,
our own canteens, our own
doctors, our own travelling
entertainments etc., etc. No
wonder if the French people at
times ask each other whether the
English will ever take their
departure now that they seem to be
so full in possession.
But our French friends would soon
have little doubt on this point if
only we had a clear and
honourable chance of departure.
Personally I have received many
kindnesses from the French people
that I have come across and I am
very glad to say that, despite the
many faults which are so often
found with us clergy in England,
yet the French people seem to give
the British chaplains a very, very
good name. Possibly they do not
know us sufficiently!!! I have even
heard us referred to as ‘tres bon”!!!
Even a desolate village is heaven after the trenches