My War Diary

Walter Culliford was the editor of Seed Thoughts and later of The Bible League Quarterly. Recently his daughter Violet sent her father’s war diary to EN — a document that chronicles his experiences as a soldier in the First World War from 1915-1919. He served three years overseas in France, Greece, Egypt, and Palestine.

After recording the general movements and experiences of his life with the army, he goes on to specifically deal with the spiritual and religious aspects of this difficult time.

It is clear that he as he looked back, he saw God at work sustaining him and providing for him, both physically and spiritually. Amazingly, although he ‘went over the top’ 13 times, he was never wounded and never spent a day in hospital. ‘Truly “the everlasting God was my refuge (my home) and underneath were the everlasting arms”’.

Sensitive to others

In a very matter of fact way Culliford records the often harrowing experiences and physical discomforts of life living and fighting in the trenches. Insufficient sleep, food and water, as well as lack of sanitation and exposure to the elements, are described prosaically amidst troop moments and anecdotes. Although he had his own difficulties as a soldier he was sensitive to the suffering of others. ‘Another incident, which affected me, and others, deeply, occurred when we were clearing a track for some guns. We had sat down to eat our midday lunch — biscuit. When we had finished, little children who had been watching us, came and picked up the crumbs we had dropped. On another occasion, as I was going to empty the bag of the crumbs at the bottom children rushed to catch them — not because they were nice (they were nearing the mouldy stage), but from sheer hunger. This is what war meant to them.’

Touchingly, in the midst of it all, he still had an eye for the beauties of nature and an interest in the cultures he met with and historic places he visited.

Christian in the army

What is more unusual about Culliford’s diary, though, is the second part where he includes his observations on what it is like to be a Christian in the army.

At the outset he notes: ‘The general attitude to religion is hard to define. The quiet, unostentatious, consistent Christian life, as lived by a few I met, was always respected, nor were any jibes thrown at them.’ He relates his experiences of services, fellowship, and loneliness as they ebb and flow throughout his time in the military. Clearly he is aware of God’s providence in caring for him: ‘It has often been, and still is, a wonder to me how wonderfully my course of life in the army was divinely overruled. Not all at once was the change from regular Christian fellowship made, but step by step was I prepared.’

Culliford explains that during his training in various places in England he had services and good fellowship, along with earnest teaching: ‘It was a time of quiet, happy growth in spiritual matters, a preparation for the days which were to come.’ For the future did bring testing times: ‘After crossing to France we found a change in Sundays. Whereas in England Sunday was kept as a day of rest, overseas Divine Service was held if nothing else could be found to do; and once we were away from the base camp, services were very irregular. Of course, in the line itself they were impossible. I had crossed as a draft, and among all those with whom I went, there was not one whom I knew as a Christian. The sense of loneliness was depressing.’

Fellowship

Later he was blessed to have Capt. Moffat as his chaplain, ‘a real Christian with whom one could speak on the deep things of our faith’. Moffat was the nephew of Robert Moffat, the African missionary. So earnest was he to minister the word ‘that on one occasion at least, he conducted seven services on a Sunday, in seven different places. His pet aversion was riding a horse. Yet in order to hold a service in some out of the way depot, he would ride ten miles each way.’

Attache case Communion

‘Communion services were infrequent. One difficulty was in procuring wine. Capt. Moffat on more that one occasion borrowed from his C. of E. colleague who could more readily obtain it. One of these services remains clearly in mind. We had had the Sunday morning parade service in the shelter of a grove of fig trees. This was followed by the communion service. The simplicity of the service was emphasised by its setting. We were miles from any human habitation. We sat on the sands of the desert amid the trees. The table — an attachŽ case covered with a white table napkin; the communion plate — two small silver-plated cups; a pocket flask and army water bottle to dilute the wine to make it supply the number present. There, in absolute silence apart from the voice of the minister, we celebrated the Lord’s supper. The presence of the Lord, whose death we thus commemorated, was most real. On such occasions, the world seemed to recede, almost disappear, and with melting hearts we would sing the greatest of communion hymns “When I survey the wondrous Cross”.’

Bible reading and prayer

Culliford notes times at which he was more isolated: ‘For about three months after our arrival in Salonika we had no non-conformist services. Although physically it was a fairly comfortable time, spiritually it was most depressing. Reading the Bible and prayer were my stay and I read large portions of the Word that are often left unread. It was during this period that Psalm 42 became such a favourite: “Why art thou cast down, O my soul . . . Hope thou in God!” I can only say that during the two years which followed, I lived through all the experience of that psalm. On one occasion in 1917, in France, one night before a particularly fierce attack — the only occasion in which I feared that I might not get through —I read the psalm. The verse came home to me, “I will remember thee from the land of the Jordan”. That night I read the whole psalm to the others in the dug-out.’

Prayer circle in Egypt

But when there was a chance for fellowship, the intensity of the situation they were in gave it a heightened intimacy: ‘When we got to Egypt the YMCA had commenced the formation of prayer triangles, the small number being necessitated by the difficulty of a large number being able to meet at all frequently. In our battalion we formed two such triangles, which, however, soon amalgamated to form a prayer circle. At one time we numbered ten. Many were the seasons of happy fellowship with one another and with our Lord as we met, usually at night, outside our camps. In the quiet of a desert evening, or on a hillside by starlight we felt verily in the presence of God and were loath to return to the medley of the camp. Sometimes we would meet regularly for several nights in succession; and then weeks might pass before our next gathering. After each action we found our numbers decreased, until I could say and feel with the prophet, “I even I only am left”.

‘This brings me to the most memorable of these prayer meetings. We were preparing for the second Trans-Jordan raid. After a time of prayer a day or two previously, I had remained alone with [Walter] Wright, the rest having returned to camp. There we sat in silence upon the rough hillside, each in communion with the Lord. After some time, Walter told me that he liked to get right away in silence to hold spiritual converse with his Lord, striving to get away from the world by which we were so closely surrounded. His life’s desire was to become a minister of the gospel and he could not understand why the Lord was leading him through such an experience as that of the last three years. We crossed the Jordan for the second Moab attack one afternoon, and rested in the jungle on its farther bank, preparatory to making an attack next morning at dawn, which meant moving off two hours before daylight.

‘Later on that night, 10 or 11 o’clock, on April 28 1918, we met for prayer by the edge of the river, among the jungle. So dark was it, that we could only just see each other and there was no place to sit down. We all engaged in prayer (five of us I believe), Wright being the last. He ended his prayer with the words, “Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” Walter Wright never saw the next dawn. He was one of the first to fall. His death was a grief to all who knew him. His life, which passed amidst the most difficult conditions, adorned the profession he had made; a life which won the respect of all, and the love of those who knew him best; a life of humble trust in the Saviour whom he loved, even when the way seemed dark.’

God’s sustaining power

Like the life of Walter Wright, Culliford’s diary itself is a testimony to God, and of his power to sustain us through the darkest hour if we trust in him. Not many of us will go through the sort of extreme experiences he endured as a soldier in trench warfare, and it is impossible to convey the essence of his diary in a short article. But reading through it I was struck by the fact that his experiences did not lead him to doubt God, but rather they impressed on him what was of first importance — increasing rather than undermining his faith. In those extreme circumstances when small matters fall to the wayside, what really matters becomes clear.

By Walter Charles Culliford