There have been many accusations in the States with regard to the supposed breakdown of their military organization in France—­accusations inspired by generosity towards the Allies.  From what I have seen, and I have been given liberal opportunities to see everything, I do not think that those accusations are justified.  As a combatant of another nation, I have my standards of comparison by which to judge and I frankly state that I was amazed with the progress that had been made.  It is a progress based on a huge scale and therefore less impressive to the layman than if the scale had been less ambitious.  What I saw were the foundations of an organisation which can be expanded to handle a fighting-machine which staggers the imagination.  What the layman expects to see are Hun trophies and Americans coming out of the line on stretchers.  He will see all that, if he waits long enough, for the American military hospitals in France are being erected to accommodate 200,000 wounded.

Unfounded optimisms, which under no possible circumstances could ever have been realised, are responsible for the disappointment felt in America.  Inasmuch as these optimisms were widely accepted in England and France, civilian America’s disappointment will be shared by the Allies, unless some hint of the truth is told as to what may be expected and what great preparations are under construction.  It was generally believed that by the spring of 1918 America would have half a million men in the trenches and as many more behind the lines, training to become reinforcements.  People who spoke this way could never have seen a hundred thousand men or have stopped to consider what transport would be required to maintain them at a distance of more than three thousand miles from their base.  It was also believed that by the April of 1918, one year after the declaring of war, America would have manufactured ten thousand planes, standardised all their parts, trained the requisite number of observers and pilots, and would have them flying over the Hun lines.  Such beliefs were pure moonshine, incapable of accomplishment; but there are facts to be told which are highly honourable.

So far I have tried to give a glimpse of America’s fighting spirit in facing up to her job; now, in as far as it is allowed, I want to give a sketch of her supreme earnestness as proved by what she has already achieved in France.  The earnestness of her civilians should require no further proof than the readiness with which they accepted national conscription within a few hours of entering the war—­a revolutionising departure which it took England two years of fighting even to contemplate, and which can hardly be said to be in full operation yet, so long as conscientious objectors are allowed to air their so-called consciences.  In America the conscientious objector is not regarded; he is listened to as only one of two things—­a deserter or a traitor.  The earnestness of America’s fighting man requires no proving; his only grievance