(Shortened text taken from Practical Christianity April 1927, p229) published by the Officers’ Christian Union (now the Armed Forces’ Christian Union).
I enlisted in the Artillery in 1908 at the age of 15, eager to live life on my own terms, free from the discipline of home. I soon found myself with the worst conduct sheets in the Boys’ Detachment and a reputation that threatened my future. At first, I wasn’t too bothered; I took pride in my misdeeds and didn’t take life seriously. Eventually, my Commanding Officer warned me that if I didn’t improve, he’d have no choice but to discharge me. Shortly after, when a clock was stolen from the Riding School, I was blamed. I denied it, but the Commanding Officer, convinced that I would have stolen it if I’d seen it, told me to pay for it. That remark destroyed any resolve I had to shape up.
In June 1909, I was sitting in my barrack room at Woolwich with a fellow Irish boy, Mick, who, like me, had a knack for trouble. We were trying to figure out how to raise money for supper when a shy boy from the Royal Garrison Artillery came to the door, inviting us to the newly opened Soldiers’ Home. I initially rejected the idea, thinking it was some sort of religious trap. Mick, however, insisted the place was decent, particularly because of the new towels and soap in the soldiers’ washing area. Hungry and in need of supplies, we decided to check it out.
As we arrived at the Home, I worried about being caught with the towels, but Mick assured me we could simply hide them in our tunics. Just as we were about to sneak upstairs, the boy who had invited me earlier caught me and pulled me into a religious meeting. Though I initially considered running, I decided to stay put. When they began praying, I couldn’t help but find the situation absurd — I was kneeling for my supper while Mick was downstairs arranging it. But as the hymn “Oh do not let the Word depart” played, something unexpected happened: I began to feel that Jesus really loved me. I turned to the corporal beside me and confessed my unworthiness, but he assured me that Jesus’ grace covered all sins.
That evening, I gave up my rebellion and surrendered to Christ. The boy who had invited me was thrilled and advised me to pray by my bedside that night. When I returned to my barracks, Mick teased me about hearing hymns, but I remained quiet. He then offered me a towel, but I refused. Nervous about the prayer, I finally knelt by my bed, trembling, and to my surprise, felt God’s peace.
In the days that followed, 48 boys in our detachment professed their faith in Christ.
Nearly 18 years later, after rising through the ranks to captain, I remember those words from Hebrews: “He is faithful that promised.”
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