Since then I have made some other attempts.  I did not prophesy at all in 1915, so far as I can remember.  If I had I should certainly have backed the Gallipoli attempt to win.  It was the right thing to do, and it was done abominably.  It should have given us Constantinople and brought Bulgaria to our side; it gave us a tragic history of administrative indolence and negligence, and wasted bravery and devotion.  I was very hopeful of the western offensive in 1915; and in 1916 I counted still on our continuing push.  I believe we were very near something like decision this last September, but some archaic dream of doing it with cavalry dashed these hopes.  The “Tanks” arrived to late to do their proper work, and their method of use is being worked out very slowly....  I still believe in the western push, if only we push it for all we are worth.  If only we push it with our brains, with our available and still unorganised brains; if only we realise that the art of modern war is to invent and invent and invent.  Hitherto I have always hoped and looked for decision, a complete victory that would enable the Allies to dictate peace.  But such an expectation is largely conditioned by these delicate questions of adaptability that my tour of the front has made very urgent in my mind.  A spiteful German American writer has said that the British would rather kill twenty thousand of their men than break one general.  Even a grain of truth in such a remark is a very valid reasoning for lengthening one’s estimate of the duration of the war.

There can be no doubt that the Western allies are playing a winning game upon the western front, and that this is the front of decision now.  It is not in doubt that they are beating the Germans and shoving them back.  The uncertain factor is the rate at which they are shoving them back.  If they can presently get to so rapid an advance as to bring the average rate since July 1st up to two or three miles a day, then we shall still see the Allies dictating terms.  But if the shove drags on at its present pace of less than a mile and four thousand prisoners a week over the limited Somme front only, if nothing is attempted elsewhere to increase the area of pressure, [This was written originally before the French offensive at Verdun.] then the intolerable stress and boredom of the war will bring about a peace long before the Germans are decisively crushed.  But the war, universally detested, may go on into 1918 or 1919.  Food riots, famine, and general disorganisation will come before 1920, if it does.  The Allies have a winning game before them, but they seem unable to discover and promote the military genius needed to harvest an unquestionable victory.  In the long run this may not be an unmixed evil.  Victory, complete and dramatic, may be bought too dearly.  We need not triumphs out of this war but the peace of the world.