I have been reading a wonderful book ( "War Romance of the Salvation Army" by Grace Livingston Hill), about the part that the Salvation Army played in World War 1. I have been especially struck by the stories of the Doughnut Lassies, who went to the front, to encourage our soldiers. I want to share this with you too, but since I cannot put it half so eloquently as Mrs. Hill, I am just going to copy and paste her words, in the hope that they will stir you as they have me.
It needs some special experience to appreciate what Salvation Army lassies really are, and what they have done. They are not just any good sort of girl picked up here and there who are willing to go and like the excitement of the experience; neither are they common illiterate girls who merely have ordinary good sense and a will to work. The majority of them in France are fine, well-bred, carefully reared daughters of Christian fathers and mothers who have taught them that the home is a little bit of heaven on earth, and a woman God's means of drawing man nearer to Him. They have been especially trained from childhood to forget self and to live for others. The great slogan of the Salvation Army is "Others." Did you ever stop to think how that would take the coquetry out of a girl's eyes, and leave the sweet simplicity of the natural unspoiled soul? We have come to associate such a look with a plain, homely face, a dull complexion, careless, severe hair-dressing and unbeautiful clothes. Why?
Righteousness
from babyhood has given to these girls delicate beautiful features,
clear complexions that neither faded nor had to be renewed in the
thick of battle, eyes that seemed flecked with divine lights and
could dance with mirth on occasion or soften exquisitely in sympathy,
furtive dimples that twinkled out now and then; hands that were
shapely and did not seem made for toil. Yet for all that they toiled
night and day for the soldiers. They were educated, refined,
cultured, could talk easily and well on almost any subject you would
mention. They never appeared to force their religious views to the
front, yet all the while it was perfectly evident that their religion
was the main object of their lives; that this was the secret source
of strength, the great reason for their deep joy, and abiding calm in
the face of calamities; that this was the one great purpose in life
which overtopped and conquered all other desires. And if you would
break through their sweet reserve and ask them they would tell you
that Jesus and the winning of souls to Him was their one and only
ambition.
And
yet they have not let these great things keep them from the pleasant
little details of life. Even in the olive drab flannel shirt and
serge skirt of their uniform, or in their trim serge coats, the exact
counterpart of the soldier boy's, except for its scarlet epaulets,
and the little close trench hat with its scarlet shield and silver
lettering, they are beautiful and womanly. Catch them with the coat
off and a great khaki apron enveloping the rest of their uniform, and
you never saw lovelier women. No wonder the boys loved to see them
working about the hut, loved to carry water and pick up the dishes
for washing, and peel apples, and scrape out the bowl after the cake
batter had been turned into the pans. No wonder they came to these
girls with their troubles, or a button that needed sewing on, and
rushed to them first with the glad news that a letter had come from
home even before they had opened it. These girls were real women, the
kind of woman God meant us all to be when He made the first one; the
kind of woman who is a real helpmeet for all the men with whom she
comes in contact, whether father, brother, friend or lover, or merely
an acquaintance. There is a fragrance of spirit that breathes in the
very being, the curve of the cheek, the glance of the eye, the grace
of a movement, the floating of a sunny strand of hair in the light,
the curve of the firm red lips that one knows at a glance will have
no compromise with evil. This is what these girls have.
You
may call it what you will, but as I think of them I am again reminded
of that verse in the Bible about those brave and wonderful disciples:
"And they took knowledge of them that they had been with Jesus."
