war and the future-第14章

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from　a　shell　or　so；　but　there　are　still　the　sofas　of　green　plush；
askew；　a　little　advertisement　hung　from　the　wall；　the　glass
smashed。　　The　ticket　bureau　is　as　if　a　giant　had　scattered　a
great　number　of　tickets；　mostly　still　done　up　in　bundles；　to
Douai；　to　Valenciennes；　to　Lens　and　so　on。　　These　tickets　are
souvenirs　too　portable　to　resist。　　I　gave　way　to　that　common
weakness。

I　went　out　and　looked　up　and　down　the　line；　two　deserted　goods
trucks　stood　as　if　they　sheltered　under　a　footbridge。　　The　grass
poked　out　through　their　wheels。　　The　railway　signals　seemed
uncertain　in　their　intimations；　some　were　up　and　some　were　down。
And　it　was　as　still　and　empty　as　a　summer　afternoon　in　Pompeii。
No　train　has　come　into　Arras　for　two　long　years　now。

We　lunched　in　a　sunny　garden　with　various　men　who　love　Arras　but
are　weary　of　it；　and　we　disputed　about　Irish　politics。　　We
discussed　the　political　future　of　Sir　F。　E。　Smith。　　We　also
disputed　whether　there　was　an　equivalent　in　English　for
/embusque。/　　Every　now　and　then　a　shell　came　overan
aimless　shell。

A　certain　liveliness　marked　our　departure　from　the　town。
Possibly　the　Germans　also　listen　for　the　rare　infrequent
automobile。　　At　any　rate；　as　we　were　just　starting　our　way　back
it　is　improper　to　mention　the　exact　point　from　which　we　started
came　〃Pheeee…woooo。〃　　Quite　close。　　But　there　was　no　/Bang！/
One's　mind　hung　expectant　and　disappointed。　　It　was　a　dud　shell。

And　then　suddenly　I　became　acutely　aware　of　the　personality　of
our　chauffeur。　　It　was　not　his　business　to　talk　to　us；　but　he
turned　his　head；　showed　a　sharp　profile；　wry　lips　and　a　bright
excited　eye；　and　remarked；　〃/That/　was　a　near　oneanyhow。〃
He　then　cut　a　corner　over　the　pavement　and　very　nearly　cut　it
through　a　house。　　He　bumped　us　over　a　shell　hole　and　began　to
toot　his　horn。　　At　every　gateway；　alley；　and　cross　road　on　this
silent　and　empty　streets　of　Arras　and　frequently　in　between；　he
tooted　punctiliously。　　（It　is　not　proper　to　sound　motor　horns　in
Arras。）　I　cannot　imagine　what　the　listening　Germans　made　of　it。
We　passed　the　old　gates　of　that　city　of　fear；　still　tooting
vehemently；　and　then　with　shoulders　eloquent　of　his　feelings；　our
chauffeur　abandoned　the　horn　altogether　and　put　his　whole　soul
into　the　accelerator。。。。


3

Soissons　was　in　very　much　the　same　case　as　Arras。　　There　was　the
same　pregnant　silence　in　her　streets；　the　same　effect　of　waiting
for　the　moment　which　draws　nearer　and　nearer；　when　the　brooding
German　lines　away　there　will　be　full　of　the　covert　activities　of
retreat；　when　the　streets　of　the　old　town　will　stir　with　the
joyous　excitement　of　the　conclusive　advance。

The　organisation　of　Soissons　for　defence　is　perfect。　　I　may　not
describe　it；　but　think　of　whatever　would　stop　and　destroy　an
attacking　party　or　foil　the　hostile　shell。　　It　is　there。　　Men
have　had　nothing　else　to　do　and　nothing　else　to　think　of　for　two
years。　　I　crossed　the　bridge　the　English　made　in　the　pursuit
after　the　Marne；　and　went　into　the　first　line　trenches　and　peeped
towards　the　invisible　enemy。　　To　show　me　exactly　where　to　look　a
seventy…five　obliged　with　a　shell。　　In　the　crypt　of　the　Abbey　of
St。　Medard　near　by　itit　must　provoke　the　Germans　bitterly　to
think　that　all　the　rest　of　the　building　vanished　ages　agothe
French　boys　sleep　beside　the　bones　of　King　Childebert　the　Second。
They　shelter　safely　in　the　prison　of　Louis　the　Pious。　　An
ineffective　shell　from　a　German　seventy…seven　burst　in　the　walled
garden　close　at　hand　as　I　came　out　from　those　thousand…year…old
memories　again。

The　cathedral　at　Soissons　had　not　been　nearly　so　completely
smashed　up　as　the　one　at　Arras；　I　doubt　if　it　has　been　very
greatly　fired　into。　　There　is　a　peculiar　beauty　in　the　one　long
vertical　strip　of　blue　sky　between　the　broken　arches　in　the　chief
gap　where　the　wall　has　tumbled　in。　　And　the　people　are　holding　on
in　many　cases　exactly　as　they　are　doing　in　Arras；　I　do　not　know
whether　it　is　habit　or　courage　that　is　most　apparent　in　this
persistence。　　About　the　chief　place　of　the　town　there　are　ruined
houses；　but　some　invisible　hand　still　keeps　the　grass　of　the
little　garden　within　bounds　and　has　put　out　a　bed　of　begonias。
In　Paris　I　met　a　charming　American　writer；　the　wife　of　a　French
artist；　the　lady　who　wrote　/My　House　on　the　Field　of
Honour。/　　She　gave　me　a　queer　little　anecdote。　　On　account　of
some　hospital　work　she　had　been　allowed　to　visit　Soissonsa　rare
privilege　for　a　womanand　she　stayed　the　night　in　a　lodging。
The　room　into　which　she　was　shown　was　like　any　other　French
provincial　bedroom；　and　after　her　Anglo…Saxon　habit　she　walked
straight　to　the　windows　to　open　them。

They　looked　exactly　like　any　other　French　bedroom　windows；　with
neat；　clean　white　lace　curtains　across　them。　　The　curtains　had
been　put　there；　because　they　were　the　proper　things　to　put
there。

〃Madame；〃　said　the　hostess；　〃need　not　trouble　to　open　the　glass。
There　is　no　more　glass　in　Soissons。〃

But　there　were　curtains　nevertheless。　　There　was　all　the　precise
delicacy　of　the　neatly　curtained　home　life　of　France。

And　she　told　me　too　of　the　people　at　dinner；　and　how　as　the
little　serving…maid　passed　about　a　proud　erection　of　cake　and
conserve　and　cream；　came　the　familiar　〃Pheeee…woooo…
/Bang！/〃

〃That　must　have　been　the　Seminaire；〃　said　someone。

As　one　speaks　of　the　weather　or　a　passing　cart。

〃It　was　in　the　Rue　de　la　Bueire；　M'sieur；〃　the　little　maid
asserted　with　quiet　conviction；　poising　the　trophy　of
confectionery　for　Madame　Huard　with　an　unshaking　hand。

So　stoutly　do　the　roots　of　French　life　hold　beneath　the
tramplings　of　war。


II。　THE　GRADES　OF　WAR


1
Soissons　and　Arras　when　I　visited　them　were　samples　of　the
deadlock　war；　they　were　like　Bloch　come　true。　　The　living　fact
about　war　so　far　is　that　Bloch　has　not　come　true/yet。/　　I
think　in　the　end　he　will　come　true；　but　not　so　far　as　this　war　is
concerned；　and　to　make　that　clear　it　is　necessary　to　trouble　the
reader　with　a　little　disquisition　upon　waromitting　as　far　as
humanly　possible　all　mention　of　Napoleon's　campaigns。

The　development　of　war　has　depended　largely　upon　two　factors。
One　of　these　is　invention。　　New　weapons　and　new　methods　have
become　available；　and　have　modified　tactics；　strategy；　the
relative　advantage　of　offensive　and　defensive。　　The　other　chief
factor　in　the　evolution　of　the　war　has　been　social　organisation。
As　Machiavelli　points　out　in　his　/Art　of　War/；　there　was
insufficient　social　stability　in　Europe　to　keep　a　properly
trained　and　disciplined　infantry　in　the　field　from　the　passing　of
the　Roman　legions　to　the　appearance　of　the　Swiss　footmen。　　he
makes　it　very　clear　that　he　considers　the　fighting　of　the　Middle
Ages；　though　frequent　and　bloody；　to　be　a　confused；　mobbing　sort
of　affair；　and　politically　and　technically　unsatisfactory。　　The
knight　was　an　egotist　in　armour。　　Machiavelli　does　small　justice
to　the　English　bowmen。　　It　is　interesting　to　note　that
Switzerland；　that　present　island　of　peace；　was　regarded　by　him　as
the　mother　of　modern　war。　　Swiss　aggression　was　the　curse　of　the
Milanese。　　That　is　a　remark　by　the　way；　our　interest　here　is　to
note　that　modern　war　emerges　upon　history　as　the　sixteenth
century　unfolds；　as　an　affair　in　which　the　essential　factor　is
the　drilled　and　trained　infantryman。　　The　artillery　is　developing
as　a　means　of　breaking　the　infantry；　cavalry　for　charging　them
when　broken；　for　pursuit　and　scouting。　　To　this　day　this　triple
division　of　forces　dominates　soldiers'　minds。　　The　mechanical
development　of　warfare　has　consisted　largely　in　the　development
of　facilities　for　enabling　or　hindering　the　infantry　to　get　to
close　quarters。　　As　that　has　been　made　easy　or　difficult　the
offensive　or　the　defensive　has　predominated。

A　history　of　military　method　for　the　last　few　centuries　would　be
a　record　of　successive　alternate　steps　in　which　offensive　and
defensive　contrivances　pull　ahead；　first　one　and　then　the　other。
Their　relative　fluctuations　are　marked　by　the　varying　length　of
campaigns。　　From　the　very　outset　we　have　the　ditch　and　the　wall；
the　fortified　place　upon　a　pass　or　main　road；　as　a　check　to　the
advance。　　Artillery　improves