Next morning has arrived, and with it the news that our services
will not be required. The attack, it appears, was duly launched, and
succeeded beyond all expectations. The German line was broken, and
report says that four Divisions poured through the gap. They captured
the second-line trenches, then the third, and penetrated far into the
enemy's rear.
Then--from their front and flanks, artillery and machine-guns opened
fire upon them. They were terribly exposed; possibly they had been
lured into a trap. At any rate, the process of "isolation" had not
been carried far enough. One thing, and only one thing, could have
saved them from destruction and their enterprise from disaster--the
support of big guns, and big guns, and more big guns. These could have
silenced the hostile tornado of shrapnel and bullets, and the position
could have been made good.
But--apparently the supply of big-gun ammunition is not quite so
copious as it might be. We have only been at war ten months, and
people at home are still a little dazed with the novelty of their
situation. Out here, we are reasonable men, and we realise that it
requires some time to devise a system for supplying munitions which
shall hurt the feelings of no pacifist, which shall interfere with no
man's holiday or glass of beer, which shall insult no honest toiler
by compelling him to work side by side with those who are not of his
industrial tabernacle, and which shall imperil no statesman's seat in
Parliament. Things will be all right presently.
Meanwhile, the attacking party fell back whence they came--but no
longer four full Divisions.