(_BY MR. PUNCH'S STAFF OF LEARNED CLERKS_).
Battle-books have already come to wear (even in so short a time) a
strangely archaic aspect. But _Through the Hindenburg Line_ (HODDER
AND STOUGHTON) is, as its name tells you, nearer to date than most.
The writer, Mr. F.A. MCKENZIE, was a Canadian war correspondent whom
the Canadian Staff, believing (as he himself says) "that the right
place for a war correspondent is where he can see what he is supposed
to describe," allowed to live among the troops in the front line. As a
result of this unusual privilege, his pictures of the great fights in
the last stages of the War have the reality of personal experience.
The actual smashing of the Line, for example, is an epic of heroism
and achievement still hardly realised by people at home, who cling to
an idea that the final victories were gained over an enemy enfeebled
and at disadvantage. There are other chapters in the record that
may perhaps hardly be welcomed at this moment by those amiable
sentimentalists who would have us treat the enemy as a Bosch and a
brother. The hospital raid at Etaples is one of them; when, even after
the light of the burning huts had made ignorance impossible, the
gentle Hun, swooping low, swept with machine-gun fire the nurses and
doctors who were attempting to remove the wounded. That, I think, is a
memory that will linger. Another picture, queerly disproportionate in
the anger it excites, is that of the fruit garden in a great country
house, with its wealth of famous old peach and pear trees still in
place along the walls, but every one methodically sawn through. By
comparison a trifling crime, but somehow I may forget other things
more easily. One would welcome the revised judgment of Dr. SOLF upon
this particular expression of the German spirit.
* * * * *
To those who have been persuaded by writers like Mr. H.G. WELLS that
the horse has not and ought not to have any part in modern warfare,
Captain SIDNEY GALTREY'S _The Horse and the War_ ("COUNTRY LIFE")
will come as a revelation. Mr. WELLS has said that the sight of a
soldier wearing spurs makes him sick, or words to that effect; yet
so neglectful were our military authorities of Mr. WELLS'S opinions
and teaching that they went on steadily adding horses, many of them
cavalry horses, to the Army. We began the War with twenty-five
thousand horses, and we finished it with considerably more than a
million, to say nothing of the mules, who diffused an air of cynical
amusement over the military proceedings in which they were compelled
to bear a part. This may conceivably be one more proof in Mr. WELLS'S
eyes of our incurable stupidity. But those who have watched the work
of our armies at close quarters will be the last to agree with him.
Captain GALTREY in fact proves his case. He has an enthusiasm for
horses and has written a most interesting book. The illustrations are
excellent and appropriate, and the book is admirably got up.
* * * * *
Valour is apt to get the better of discretion in any novel that
attempts to be quite up to date with a political subject. Mrs.
TWEEDALE places _The Veiled Woman_ (JENKINS) in some vague period
later than August, 1914, largely in order to decry a Government that
really by now one fails to identify, and to let off sundry feminist
squibs and crackers which, in view of the present position of woman
suffrage, can only be described as fireworks half-price on the 6th
of November. Further, to get all my grumbles frankly over, she so
constantly makes sweeping assertions against the other sex that even
the most chivalrous of male reviewers may be inclined to kick. To
hear a lady pronounce once or twice that the males of the species
are obviously diminishing in stature and strength, or that the whole
programme of the earth's return to the highest ideals is in woman's
hands, may be good for the masculine soul, but after a while it brings
up vividly BESANT'S story of _The Revolt of Man_--what happened then
and just why. The claim to a monopoly of self-sacrifice in particular
comes very badly in war-time. All the same, if you cut out this
top-hamper the story of _The Veiled Woman_ on its personal side is
distinctly a good one. I wished the heroine had not spoiled her fine
enthusiasms by mixing them so freely with a personal vendetta; but
after all it is not the characterisation that intrigues one here. The
plot--which I will not spoil by giving it away--goes excellently, and
works up to a capital climax.
* * * * *
Mr. BOYD CABLE is the literary liaison officer between the Infantry
and the Air Force. In the wonderful stories contained in _Airmen
O' War_ (MURRAY) his object is to make the armies on the ground
understand what they owe to the armies of the air. If they suffer from
a lack of understanding, this is not, I gather, likely to be removed
by the airmen themselves, for they have evidently imbibed some of the
spirit of our Navy and are magnificently reluctant to talk about their
achievements. But this reticence has its dangers, and Mr. BOYD CABLE
has set to work to remove them. Here he has written nothing for which
he cannot find "an actual parallel fact." I honestly believe him and
commend his book both to those who have a passion for tales of high
adventure and also to those--if there are such--who need authentic
instances of what our Airmen O' War have done for us.
* * * * *
The best I can honestly say of _Tony Heron_ (COLLINS) is that it
has all the makings of a good novel, but unfortunately stops there,
unmade or rather unvitalized. It is the tale of a boy's upbringing
by a sternly antagonistic father, of his growth to maturity, his love
affairs, and in due course his relations with his own son. All the
events happen that are proper to a scheme of this type; but somehow,
despite the fact that Mr. C. KENNETT BURROW wields a practised and
often picturesque pen, the whole affair remains a literary exercise
and declines to come alive. Perhaps in justice I should except two
characters, _Roland_, the sturdy-son born out of wedlock to _Tony_,
and _Phil_, weakling child of old _Heron_ by a second marriage. Both
these and the relation of the pair to each other furnish a pleasant
contrast to the anæmia which seems to affect the rest of the tale.
Stay, there is yet another, _Kenrick_, the private tutor of _Tony_,
whose treatment by the author is at least vigorous. I found him just a
little surprising. A creature, we are told, over fond of good food and
wine, who, dining with his pupil on the latter's sixteenth birthday
and attempting convivial airs, is shown his place with a promptitude
recalling the best manner of the eighteenth century. Subsequently,
one gathers, he took to chronic alcoholism, combined with amateur
blackmail; and a final appearance shows the fellow dribbling wine
over the evening shirt, to whose wear the author is at pains to tell
us he was unused. Clearly a low race, these tutors, about whom I seem
hitherto to have been strangely misinformed.
* * * * *
Captain ROBERT B. ROSS has made excellent business of _The Fifty-First
in France_ (HODDER AND STOUGHTON). In any case there could be no
doubts about the merits of this famous Scottish territorial division;
it is one of the very many British divisions which has proved itself
the best of all. I recall its first appearance at the Front as a
constituted unit, and can speak to it that the impression its arrival
caused was welcome and comforting. But our author is not only a
soldier; he has also the literary art. Clearly he appreciates that a
fine subject is not all that is wanted to make a good book; that one
needs, for instance, the gift of observation, the power of conveying
an impression, and a reserve of humour always ready at need. All these
are his in abundance. His book treats of two earlier periods of the
war; the second, the long-drawn offensive of the Somme, will make
the most intimate appeal to men of his own and the other divisions
involved. To those who knew the affair at first hand the story will
recall much that they saw and felt themselves; often they will
recognise a map-reading or will come across the name of a humble
billet which they too regarded as a paradise replete with every modern
comfort. Upon those who now learn it for the first time a deep and
enduring impression will be produced. Captain Ross writes always with
a due respect for the serious nature of his subject; but there are
times when he breaks away from his military and literary discipline.
There is for example, a moment when he dines well, "no more wisely
than was desirable, no less wisely than was excusable." It must be
added that the accompanying sketches are, if not of an ambitious
order, yet of a certain merit. At any rate they assist.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Desperate Tenant_. "CONCENTRATE ON THE COAL-SHED,
GUV'NOR."]
* * * * *