THE MAN WHO PAID A DEBT IN WAR.

Waikato Times, Volume 88, Issue 13488, 19 May 1917, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE MAN WHO PAID A DEBT IN WAR.

One of the strangest of the many personal "romances which the war has brought is the tale of a man who, dismissed from the British Army by courtmartial, redeemed himself through service with that most hetergeneous of organisations, the French Foreign Legion. His name was John F. Elkington and he had held an honored post Tor more than thirty years. Then, just as his regiment, in the closing months of 1914, was going into the fighting on the Western front, he was cashiered for an unrepealed error and deprived of the opportunity to serve his land. Heavy with disgrace ho disappeared, and for a long time no one knew what had become of him. Some even went so far as to surmise that he had committed suicide, until finally ho turned up as an enlisted soldier in"the Foreign Legion. In their ranks he went into the conflict to redeem himself. Today, says the New York Herald, he is back in England. He will never fight again, for he has practically lost the use of his knees from wound's. But he is perhaps the happiest man in England, and the account tells why, explaining: "Pinned on his breast are two of the coveted honors of France—the Militarv Medal and the Military Cross—hut most valued possession of all is a bit of paper which obliterates the error* of the past—a proclamation from the London Gazette announcing that the King has ' gracious-lv approved the reinstatement of John Ford Elkington , in the rank of lieutenant-colonel, with his previous seniority, in consequence of his gallant conduct while serving in tlm nnks of the Foreign Legion of the French Army.' " Not only ha 6 Colonel Elkington been restored to the Army, but he has been reappointed in his old regiment, the , ■iiii

turned hour of honor. It was a courfuiartiaj at the front, at. a rime when the first rush of war was engulfing Europe and little time could be wasted upon an incident, of that sort. The charge, it is now 3tated did not reflect in any way upon The officer's personal courage. But with fallen fortunes he passed quietly out of the Army and enlisted in the Legion—that corps where thousands of brave but broken men have found a shelter, and now and then an opportunity to make themselves whole again.

Colonel Elkington did not pass unscathed through fire. His fighting days are ended. His knees are shattered and he walks heavily upon two sticks-. "They are just fragments from France," he said of those wounded knees, and smiled in happy reminiscence of all they meant.

t "It is wonderful to feel," said Colonel "that once again I have the confidence of my King and my country. I am afraid my career in ihe field is ended, but 1 must not complain." Colonel Elkington made no attemptto cloak his name or his former Army service when ho entered the ranks of the Legion. "Why shouldn't I be a private?" lie asked. "It is an honor for any man to serve) in the ranks of that famous corps. Like, many of the other boys, I had a debt to pay. Now it is paid." The press of London is unanimous in welcoming the old soldier back into his former rank. One of them, the Evening Standard, contains the account of how he went about enlisting for France when he saw he would best leave London. It is written by a personal friend of Colonel Elkington* with all the vividness and sympathy of an actual observer of the incidents detailed. We are told: /Late in October, 1914, I/met him, his Army career apparently ruined. He had told the truth, which told against him; but in the moment when many men would have sunk, broken and despairing, he bore himself as he was and 1 as he is to-day, a very gallant gentleman. He had been cashiered and dismissed from the service l for conduct which, in the judgment of the court martial, rendered him unfit and incapable of serving his sovereign in the future in any military capacity. The London Gazette camei out on October 14, 1914, recording the fact, and it became known to his many friends. For over thirty years he had served, and for distinguished service wore the Queen's medal with four clasps after the Boer war. He went to France with the Royal Warwickshire Regiment at the outbreak of this conflict. His chance had come after twenty-eight years. During the first terrible two months he had done splendid work. A moment sufficient to try the discretion of any officer arrived. He made his mistake. He told his story to the general courtmartial. He vanished —home; and the London Gazette had the following War Office announcement:

"Royal Warwickshire Regiment.— Lieutenant-Colonel John F. Elkington is cashiered by sentence of a general court-martial. Dated September 14. 1914."

Ho recognised at once, as he sat with me, what that meant. He chatted about various projects, and at last he said, "There is still the Foreign Legion. What do vou say?"

Being acquainted with it. I told him what I knew; how it was the "refuge" for men of broken reputations; how it contained Italians, Germans, Englishmen, Russians, and others who had broken or shattered careers-; the way to set about joining it by going to the recruiting officer at ; how the only requirement was physical fitness; that no questions would be asked: that I doubted if he would like all nis comrades; that the discipline was very severe; that he might be sent to Algiers; that he would find all kinds of men in this flotsam —men of education and culture, perhaps, scoundrels and blackguards as well; but he would soon discover perfect discipline. Now for a man of his age to smile as he did, to set out on the, bottom rung of the ladder as a ranker s iiiii strange army, among strangers, leaving all behind him that he held dear, was a great act of moral courage. We heard of him at intervals, but such messages as dribbled through to his friends were laconic. We heard also he had been at this place and that, and that he was well and apparently doing well. That he had been repeatedly in serious action of recent months we also knew, and then came the news that he had won the coveted' Medaillc Militaire —and more, that it was for gallant service. A curious distinction it is in some ways. Any meritorious service may win it; but not all ranks can get it. A generalissimo like General Joffre or Sir Douglas Haig may wear it for high strategy and tactics, and a non-commis-sioned officer or private may win and wear it for gallantry or other distinction. But no officer below a generalissimo can gain it. This distinction Elkington won. We all felt he had made good in the Legion, where death is near at all times, and we waited.

To-day's Gazette announcement has given all who knew him the greatest pleasure. He has told none of them for what particular act he received the coveted medal —just like Jack Elkington's modesty. But, as soon as he arrived home in England, the interviewers went after him hot and heavy. He found it all very boresome, for, now that the affair was over, he could see no use in talking about it to everybody. A reporter for the Daily Chronicle, however, managed to get. what is probably the most satisfactory interview with him and one which shows to best advantage the peculiar psychology of this man who has experienced so many different sides of life. The interviewer, in telling of their conversation, portrays the Colonel as saying: "Complaint? Good Lord, no! The whole thing was my own fault. I got what I deserved', and I had no kick again=t anv one. It was just 'Carry on!'" Brave word 9 from a brave man —a man who has proved his bravery and worth in what surely were as heartrending circumstances as ever any man had to face. My first sight of the Man Who Has Made Good was as he descended the stairs, painfully and with the aid of two sticks, into the hall of his lovely old home by the river at Pangbourne. It is a house which the great Warren Hastings once called nonie also. Very genial, very content, I found the man whose name to-day is on every one's lips; but very reticent also, with the. reticence natural to the brave man who lias achieved his aim and, having achieved it, does not wish it talked of. "And now," I suggested, "you have again got what you deserve?" Colonel Elkington drew a. long breath. "I hope so," he said, at length, very quietly. "I have got my name back again, I hone cleared. That is what a man would care for most, isn't it?"

"There is always a place in the Foreign Legion for some one who is down in the world," he told me. "Directly after the court-martial, when the result appeared in the papers, I said I must do something; that 1 pould not sit at home doing nothing, and that as 1 could not serve England I would serve France. Yes, I did offer my services again to England, hut it is military law that no man who has been cashiered! can l)o employed again for the King while the sentence stands. So there was nothing for it but the Foreign Legion—that home for the fallen man." Of that strange and famous corps Colonel Elkington cannot speak without a glint of pride in his keen eves. Splendid men, the best in the world,' he calls them, "and every one was as kind as possible to me." Many there were who had become legionari°s because thevj too, had failed elsewhere, "lost dogs like myself," the colonel called them; but the majority of the men witli whom he served were there liecause there was fighting to be done, because fighting was second nature to them, and because there was a cause to be fought for. The officers he describes as the "nicest fellows in the world and splendid leaders."

When Colonel Elkington first joined there were many Englishmen included in its ranks, but most of these subsequently transferred to British regi■am

when a staff motor drove by and an officer waved his hand and called out. But 1 pretended not to hear and turned away

"1 don't think that the men in the Legion fear anything," he said 1 never saw such men, and I think in the attack at Champagne ihej were perfectly wonderful. 1 never" saw duen a cool lot in inv life as when they went forward to face the German fire then. It was a great fight; thev were all out for blood, and, though thev were almost •cut up there, they got the German trenches."

The time he was recognised, as detailed above, was the only one. At no other time did any of his'comrades suspeft his identity, or else, if they did, they were consideration itself in'keeping it to themselves. Of this- recognition and some of his subsequent experiences, the London Times remarks, speaking of its own interview with him:

'lt was the only voice from the past thnfl came, to him, and he took it as. such. A few minutes afterward he was stopping it out heel and toe along the dusty road, a private in the Legion. Shot in the leg, Colonel Elkington spent ten months in hospital and ei"ht months on his back. This was in the Hospital Civil at Grenoble. He could not say enough for the wonderful treatment that was given him there. They fought to save his life, and when they had won that fight, thev started to save his leg from amputation. The head of the hospital was -Major Termier, a splendid surgeon, and he operated eight times and finally succeeded in saving the damaged limb. When he was first in hospital neither the patients nor any of the hospital staff knew what he was or what he had done. Elkington himself got an inkling of his good fortune at Christmas when he heard of his recommendation for the Croix de Guerre.

"Perhaps that helped me to get better," he said. "The medals are over there on the mantelpiece." I went over to where there were two glass cases hanging on the wall. "No, not those; those are my father's and my grandfather's." He showed me the medals, and on the ribbon of the cross there was the little bronze palm-branch which doubles- the worth of the medal. When he was wounded Dr Wheeler gave him a stiff dose of laudanum, but he lay for thirteen hours until he saw a French patrol passing. He was then 100 yards short of the German second lino of trenches, for this was in the Champapne Battle, on September 28, when the French made a magnificent advance.

It was difficult to get Colonel Elkington to talk about himself. As his wife says, he has a horror of advertisement, and a. photographer who ambushed; him outside his own lodge-gates yesterday made him feel more nervous than when he was charging for the machine gun that wounded him. To say he was happy would be to write a platitude. He is the happiest man in England. He is now recuperating and receiving treatment, and he hopes that he will soon be able to walk more than the 100 yards that taxes his strength to the utmost, at present.