Chapter: THE INTERNATIONAL INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT

This is a curious and interesting branch of the work of the Salvation
Army. About two thousand times a year it receives letters or personal
applications, asking it to find some missing relative or friend of the
writer or applicant. In reply, a form is posted or given, which must
be filled up with the necessary particulars. Then, if it be a London
case, the Officer in charge sends out a skilled man to work up clues.
If, on the other hand, it be a country case, the Officer in charge of
the Corps nearest to where it has occurred, is instructed to initiate
the inquiry. Also, advertisements are inserted in the Army papers,
known as 'The War Cry' and 'The Social Gazette,' both in Great Britain
and other countries, if the lost person is supposed to be on the
Continent or in some distant part of the world.

The result is that a large percentage of the individuals sought for
are discovered, alive or dead, for in such work the Salvation Army has
advantages denied to any other body, scarcely excepting the Police.
Its representatives are everywhere, and to whatever land they may
belong or whatever tongue they may speak, all of them obey an order
sent out from Headquarters wholeheartedly and uninfluenced by the
question of regard. The usual fee charged for this work is 10_s_.
6_d_.; but when this cannot be paid, a large number of cases are
undertaken free. The Army goes to as much trouble in these unpaid
cases as in any others, only then it is not able to flood the country
with printed bills. Of course, where well-to-do people are concerned,
it expects that its out-of-pocket costs will be met.

The cases with which it has to deal are of all kinds. Often those who
have disappeared are found to have done so purposely, perhaps leaving
behind them manufactured evidence, such as coats or letters on a
river-bank, suggesting that they have committed suicide. Generally,
these people are involved in some fraud or other trouble. Again,
husbands desert their wives, or wives their husbands, and vanish, in
which instances they are probably living with somebody else under
another name. Or children are kidnapped, or girls are lured away, or
individuals emigrate to far lands and neglect to write. Or, perhaps,
they simply sink out of all knowledge, and vanish effectually enough
into a paupers grave.

But the oddest cases of all are those of a complete loss of memory, a
thing that is by no means so infrequent as is generally supposed. The
experience of the Army is that the majority of these cases happen
among those who lead a studious life. The victim goes out in his usual
health and suddenly forgets everything. His mind becomes a total
blank. Yet certain instincts remain, such as that of earning a living.

Thus, to take a single recent example, the son of a large bookseller
in a country town left the house one day, saying that he would not be
away for long, and disappeared. At the invitation of his father, the
Army took up the case, and ultimately found that the man had been
working in its Spa Road Elevator under another name. Afterwards he
went away, became destitute, and sold matches in the streets.
Ultimately he was found in a Church Army Home. He recovered his
memory, and subsequently lost it again to the extent that he could
recall nothing which happened to him during the period of its first
lapse. All that time vanished into total darkness.

This business of the hunting out of the missing through the agency of
the Salvation Army is one which increases every day. It is not unusual
for the Army to discover individuals who have been missing for thirty
years and upwards.

 Sarah and the other munitions girls share a cup of tea. Sarah is upset that Billy Prior did not show up for their date on Sunday, unaware that he was not allowed to leave Craiglockhart because he had violated curfew. Sarah's friends tease her for a few moments before discussing the dreaded return of Lizzie's husband, who physically abused her before the war. As Lizzie explains, "'Peace broke out'" for her the day the war began. A new patient, Willard, lies immobilized on a table. Pieces of tombstone are embedded in his back-side from crossing a graveyard under fire. Though he has no injuries to his spine, Willard cannot walk. Dr. Rivers patiently attempts to introduce the possibility that Willard's paralysis is mental and a result of combat stress, but Willard continues to insist that his spinal cord must be damaged. Sassoon arrives a few minutes before Dr. Rivers for their meeting at the Conservative Club. As he waits, he listens to a pair of upper-class men discuss the war. Their words fill him with hatred, and he finds that his anger has a sexual edge. Though Sassoon has been quick to hold civilians in contempt, he is disgusted with himself for being safely tucked away, thus allowing his message to be disregarded. He thinks that he has become like the apathetic civilians he despises. One of his friends has recently been killed on the battlefield, thus exacerbating Sassoon's guilt. Dr. Rivers arrives and, as Sassoon studies the menu, the psychologist mulls over how much easier his life would be had Sassoon been assigned elsewhere. The lieutenant reminds Rivers of the costs of the war, leaving him constantly questioning whether the psychological and physical damage to these men can ever be justified. Rivers and Sassoon joke over the young waiter who is overly impressed by Sassoon's uniform but the conversation hits a difficult patch when the subject of Sassoon's recently deceased friend arises. After an awkward pause, Sassoon speaks of another friend who was shot through the throat. He admits feeling guilty for being safe; as his friends continue to perish, it has become harder and harder for Sassoon to stay away from the front. Dr. Rivers leaves the club while Sassoon is deep in conversation with an astronomer. Rivers thinks that he will be able to convince Sassoon to return to war because of the lieutenant's inherent need to prove his courage. Upon returning to Craiglockhart, the psychologist finds Willard and his wife stranded at the bottom of a steep hill because Mrs. Willard is not strong enough to push the wheelchair up the slope. Dr. Rivers helps her, noting Willard's growing rage at his impotence

