The English know the power of the great modern newspaper,
not only to reflect but to form public opinion.
They have watched the American press because they
know to what extent it influences American policy.
There is talk of conscription in England to-day.
Why? Ask the British people. Ask the London
Times. Ask rural England where, away from
the tramp of soldiers in the streets, the roll of
drums, the visual evidence of a great struggle, patriotism
is asked to feed on the ashes of war.
Self-depreciation in a nation is as great an error
as over-complacency. Lack of full knowledge is
the cause of much of the present British discontent.
Let the British people be told what their army is
doing. Let Lord Kitchener announce its deeds,
its courage, its vast unselfishness. Let him
put the torch of publicity to the national pride and
see it turn to a white flame of patriotism. Then
it will be possible to tear the recruiting posters
from the walls of London, and the remotest roads of
England will echo to the tramp of marching men.
ALONG THE GREAT BETHUNE ROAD
Again and again through these chapters I have felt
apologetic for the luxurious manner in which I frequently
saw the war. And so now I hesitate to mention
the comfort of that trip along the British lines;
the substantial and essentially British foresight and
kindness that had stocked the car with sandwiches
wrapped in white paper; the good roads; the sense
of general well-being that spread like a contagion
from a well-fed and well-cared-for army. There
is something about the British Army that inspires
one with confidence. It is a pity that those
people who sit at home in Great Britain and shrug their
shoulders over the daily papers cannot see their army
at the front.
It is not a roast beef stolidity. It is rather
the steadiness of calm eyes and good nerves, of physically
fit bodies and clean minds. I felt it when I
saw Kitchener’s army of clear-eyed boys drilling
in Hyde Park. I got it from the quiet young officer,
still in his twenties, who sat beside me in the car,
and who, having been in the war from the beginning,
handling a machine gun all through the battle of Ypres,
when his regiment, the Grenadier Guards, suffered so
horribly, was willing to talk about everything but
what he had done.
We went first to Bethune. The roads as we approached
the front were crowded, but there was no disorder.
There were motor bicycles and side-cars carrying dispatch
riders and scouts, travelling kitchens, great lorries,
small light cars for supplies needed in a hurry—cars
which make greater speed than the motor vans—omnibuses
full of troops, and steam tractors or caterpillar
engines for hauling heavy guns.
The day was sunny and cold. The rain of the day
before had turned to snow in the night, and the fields
were dazzling.
