Both French and German had based their figures on a rapid war, and, had

the invaders' plans been realised, Paris would have been occupied and

the French opposition paralysed in a fortnight. But this was reckoning

without Joffre, without England, and without "General Chance," one of

the most important factors in any war. Ammunition, by reason of its

vast role, became as engrossing and as vitally important as the actual

fighting. For it soon became apparent that in this war of _materiel_ he

would win who could most quickly assemble the largest quantity of guns

and shot and shell. The Germans began with an immense advantage, for

they had accumulated secretly a mass of machine-guns estimated at

50,000, leaving the Allies hopelessly in the rear in this respect. But

even their perverse intelligence did not fully grasp the logical outcome

of their own preparations, or foresee that, their first plan having

failed, they would be caught inevitably in their own toils.

To the eternal credit of the French, they realised with great rapidity

the character of the war, and set themselves with methodical speed to

adapt themselves to its unexpected features. Factories sprang up all

over the country, some created out of boards and bricks; others

existing, but "controlled" in the English sense, with Army officers

assisting the civilian directors; and a vast business of production was

ordered and marshalled as if the French had never done anything else in

their lives. At one bound, they developed into a manufacturing nation,

though the term would have been refused them, in the long yesterday of

the war, by England, the United States, and Germany. Their faculty for

seeing clearly and acting quickly, so apparent in their history, again

came to their aid. It was their distinguishing mark during the Great

Revolution. Having seized the essentials of the problem, they acted

upon their insight with startling rapidity and resolution. Of course

they committed excesses of a dreadful kind, but their excuse was the

gigantic character of the evil which they sought to remedy. Much the

same spirit of swift determination, happily without its fearful

manifestations, came upon the French people, and with all the old

Republican ardour they set themselves, with a sort of grim alacrity, to

face the crisis. The old stern common sense, which has always lain at

the bottom of apparent volatility, again came to their rescue; and in no

way did the French show a greater grasp of the situation than in their

handling of munitions.

It had been supposed that they were wanting in order and method, and

that their dramatic achievements were due to the impulse of the moment.

But, even if this were ever wholly true, it was certainly not true of

the second great struggle with Germany. The magnificent effort of France

was the outcome, not of improvisation, but of the will to conquer and to

adopt the proper means to secure that end. Nor was a Press campaign

necessary, as in England, to bring home to the people the peculiar

importance of war-work in the factories. It is true that M. Albert

Thomas, who took charge of Munitions in the circumstances which I shall

describe, made speeches to factory workers in his visits of inspection,

but it was never necessary to wrestle with labour and cause it to

abrogate its proud pretensions, months after the war had broken out.

Conscription would have settled that question even if a vivid sense of

realities had not rendered unnecessary any exhortation from Ministerial

lips. The vital character of the war had penetrated to every

intelligence; it had not stopped half-way through the social strata, as

appeared to be the case in England. And the disposition of the working

man in England towards conscription was only intelligible on the

assumption that he did not understand. In France, the war was too

deadly real, too close at hand for any to affect an attitude of

light-hearted detachment.

The fact that men in the factories like those on the railways, were

mobilised, simplified matters a great deal. A man could not desist from

his labour on the pretext of claiming higher pay without running the

risk of being treated as a deserter--a thing unthinkable in time of war.

His duty, then was the soldier's--to remain where he was until relieved

by order. "We have had no strike since the war began." How well I

recall the pride with which those words were uttered by a functionary at

the Ministry of Munitions. If it spoke well for the patriotism of the

working-class, it spoke equally well for conscription as a scientific

basis for waging war. For it had cast its net over the whole nation, and

by its means the munitions worker took his place in the factory as did

the combatant in the trench. But there were certain complications which

arose, none the less, in practice. If there was no disturbance of the

labour market to exercise the conciliatory powers of the Minister,

production did not yet reach its maximum until long after the war had

broken out. This was due to the unexampled demand made on munitions and

to the logical completeness of conscription. It required many months to

adjust a plan whereby the skilled worker was placed in his rightful

position in the factory, whilst those who had wrongly usurped his name

and functions were sent to the trenches. The most unlikely people had

described themselves as mechanics; and one found lawyers, sculptors,

school-teachers, painters, writers and a host of semi-professional

people masquerading as munition-workers. On the other hand, numbers of

highly trained specialists, some distinguished chemists and engineers,

had to be extricated from the trenches to take up their natural

positions in the factories, in the interests of national defence. This

_chasse-croisse_, inevitable in such a country as France, where

Government must be based upon equality, took some time to effect.

Indeed, the chief duty of the publicist during the second year of the

war seemed to be to urge an equitable and intelligent application of the

Dalbiez law, which was aimed expressly at the shirker.

Nor did private patronage and political "pull" wholly disappear, even in

the stringent atmosphere of a national crisis. This was, perhaps, to

expect too much of human nature. And so the Minister of Munitions

constantly received recommendations for factory employment from persons

whose intervention it was hard to resist. On the one hand, the Minister

was asked by important deputies to bring back this or that worker from

the Front; on the other, he was warned by groups of Republican zealots

of the danger to democracy of showing partiality and conniving at the

existence of the shirker. In a laudable effort to strike the happy

medium, M. Thomas decided to receive no more nominations to the factory,

and decreed that only the indispensable man was to be kept in the rear.

Even the good workman, if of military age, must become a combatant; his

place in the factory would be taken by an older man. But there remained,

naturally, a certain rivalry between the trench and the workshop, not

unconnected with the fact that assiduous munition-workers also received

their _Croix de Guerre_--a decoration that, assuredly, should have been

reserved for deeds of gallantry on the battle-field. But these various

difficulties, which M. Thomas settled with habitual celerity and _savoir

faire_, were, after all, only questions of detail, and in no way

affected the broad principle of conscription or the working of the new

Act against the _embusques_. There was no quarrel with compulsion, for

each worker recognised the right of the nation to ask him to suspend his

individual rights at such a moment. "We are at war; the vital interests

of the country are at stake." This was a sufficient argument. And so

all energies were directed to increasing the output. In connection with

the establishment of factories, the "white coal" or water-falls of the

mountains were harnessed to the work, and engineer shops were set up

under the falls themselves to employ the power directly. Inventors were

given _carte blanche_ to work out their ideas and valuable improvements

resulted in the opportunity given to scientific brains to simplify

processes, and thus effect economies in manufacture. For the first time

France had begun to explore and develop her own scientific estate, which

she had left, hitherto, largely to the Germans. For, if the latter were

foremost in chemistry, they had learned not a little from the researches

of Berthelot and Pasteur. The great bacteriologist's study of ferments

contributed sensibly to the growth of the German brewing industry.

Under the direction of scientific soldiers and officials, production

rose to immense heights, and it soon reached more than 100,000 shells a

day, at a time when, according to Mr. Lloyd George, the English output

was scarcely more than 15,000 a day. M. Charles Humbert, Senator for

the Meuse and editor of the _Journal_, preached in his columns the need

of more guns and shells, and his gospel was enforced by other writers;

but the root argument laid in the comprehension of the people themselves

and in their instinctive realisation of what there was to be done and

how to do it. Latin brains and Latin culture triumphed in an absolutely

new field.

The genius of Munitions was M. Albert Thomas, who sprang into prominence

from the unlikely beginnings of a schoolmaster and parliamentarian with

Socialistic leanings. His assets were youth and vigour and a large

stock of learning. He had graduated from the "Higher Normal School,"

the training ground for secondary teachers, with an _agregation_ in

history--equivalent to a Fellowship Examination in England--and then

became tutor to a grandson of Victor Hugo. In the family were

steelworks situated in the Loire, and the tutor's active mind became

interested in the fascinating processes which turned the unwrought metal

into shining implements of labour. This knowledge, strengthened by many

visits, stood him in good stead when he became a deputy, and thereafter

Reporter to the State Railways Committee. His constituency was Sceaux,

on the outskirts of the capital, and therein was his native commune,

Champigny, where he was born of humble shopkeepers and continued to

reside. In the Chamber his connection with the railways brought him

into contact with M. Claveille, then coming into fame as administrator

of the Ouest-Etat line. M. Thomas must be impressed by the catenation

of events, for, on arriving at the Ministry of Munitions, he bethought

him of the railway manager and installed him first as his master of

contracts and, then, at the head of manufacture. So that the guns began

to arrive at their appointed place with the same punctuality with which

the trains on the State Railway, under the reforming zeal of M.

Claveille, began to steam into the Gare St. Lazare.

At the outbreak of the war, M. Thomas, torn from peaceful Socialistic

propaganda in _L'Humanite_, where he supported M. Jean Jaures in his

opposition to Three-Years, went to the Front as a lieutenant of reserve.

After a few weeks in the trenches, he joined his General's Staff and

then was summoned to Bordeaux, whither the Government had retired from

threatened Paris. "Will you organise Munitions?" he was asked. The

battle of the Marne had revealed not only their primordial necessity,

but the grievous shortage of France, and it was said that had she been

better provided, the Germans would have had no chance of re-establishing

themselves on the line of the Aisne. So M. Thomas, faced with the crude

need of the hour, undertook the post and flung himself into it with his

accustomed energy. His acquaintance with steel, both in the works he

had studied and the railway he had controlled, fortified his resolution

to undertake the responsibility. Day and night he passed rapidly, from

point to point, in his motor-car, organising munition work and exhorting

and advising the engineers of the country engaged in it, until,

gradually, the production was screwed up to a point where, with the

shells made in England, it equalled the output of the German factories.

Here was a strange destiny for a man whose reading and reflection had

induced him to believe that the tide of humanity was set towards

universal brotherhood. Looking as little like a professor of war as

could be possibly imagined--a little plethoric, a little heavy in face

and figure, and glancing out upon the world through kindly

spectacles--this new embodiment of Mars accepted his position with a

frank and systematised zeal that led directly to success. In a short

time, the tree brought forth prodigious fruit. He worked ceaselessly,

turning Sundays into days of labour; his only relaxation from exhausting

office was to undertake further journeys of inspection.

There was advantage in the fact that he was a man of wide general views

and not an expert. Had he been a gunner, he would have thought

exclusively of the pointing of his piece; as an engineer he would have

reflected on the life-history of the gun from its early inception to its

appearance as a finished article of destruction. But being the

intelligent amateur, he was able, like an airman, to soar over

intercepted space, and think of the problem in its wider aspects: how to

obtain the ore and transport it from the other ends of the earth; how to

procure the quickest output from the arsenals; how to adjust factory

labour to the new law against the shirker; how to provide a sufficiency

of food for the monsters he was evolving; how to cultivate the

scientific _terrain_ of the war; and finally, how he could deliver his

deadly wares into the hands of those who would use them against the

enemy. There were a hundred different problems arising out of the great

military post which the war had given him, and he managed them all with

the ease and optimism that belong to rapid assimilation combined with

poise, with _sang-froid_, and decision of character. All these virtues

contributed to the success of M. Thomas. He was rewarded by official

appointment to the post of Under Secretary of State for Munitions,

specially created for him by M. Millerand, the then Minister of War.

The honour was unique in the history of the Third Republic, which does

not always advantage those who serve it best.

All the departments connected with guns had to be concentrated at the

Ministry of Munitions in the Champs Elysees. At the outbreak of war the

building was a cosmopolitan hotel on the verge of opening; the

Government, needing quarters for its new department of State, acquired

it, and there amidst Louis XVI chairs and Empire cabinets were installed

M. Thomas and his coadjutors. The Socialist pacifist had become the

Grand Armourer of France, the licensed provider of artillery, in a house

of luxury built for the wealthy classes.... In his chain of duties,

however, was a broken link. He was not given charge of the powder,

though it was essential to his full usefulness; and officials in that

department corresponded directly with the Minister of War. But

Gallieni, when he came to the Rue St. Dominique, saw the faults of the

system and immediately invested his titular subordinate with the

necessary powers. It was at this moment, when work was piling high upon

his willing shoulders, that M. Thomas gave M. Claveille authority over

the construction of the guns. And the railway manager's experience

proved invaluable in his new post.

France had every reason to be proud of her organisation of Munitions,

and for the spirit which the crisis prompted amongst her functionaries

and workers. As a University man of distinction, M. Thomas placed his

faith in higher education and was surrounded by men who had achieved

distinction in science and letters. A Sorbonne professor of Romance

languages, M. Roques, acted as his chief secretary; and a scholar of

European reputation occupied unremunerated leisure in conducting the

correspondence of the Department. Thus the Ministry provided another

example of public spirit in France and of Gallic accessibility to new

ideas.

Quite apart from the attitude of labour, admirably attuned to the

circumstances, there arose the material difficulty of finding men. The

Loi Dalbiez was rigorous in its application, and there was a dearth of

young and vigorous men, both skilled and unskilled, in the factories. I

have spoken of some of the methods adopted by M. Thomas to meet the

case: now he went to the colonies and employed Arabs and Kabyles,

Annamites, and other friendly nationals from France overseas. This

exotic labour worked harmoniously with the dominant race. Wages were on

a far less generous scale than in England, and no worker, however

skilled, obtained L8 a week or even half that amount. Such prices were

unthought of. The common wage for unskilled labour was five francs for a

ten-hour day for men and women. Where the operations were perfectly

simple and required only adroitness, the wages for female labour were

sometimes only 3 frs. a day. Even the trained mechanic earned no more

than 15 frs., the highest price being generally 13 frs. 50. Thus, you

see, there was a vast difference between the English and the French

positions, and it is clear that the cost to the country of shell

production was infinitely less in France, even at a moment when the

output was infinitely greater. There were no lady workers in the

factories--"heureusement non"--said the official, with an expressive

shrug, when I asked the question, and the whole scheme of production was

worked on carefully considered, economical, and patriotic lines.

Certainly, the worker made very little profit out of his labour, and the

intensity of it in France, as in England, put a considerable strain upon

his health.

A veritable scientific mobilisation was necessary in the Champs Elysees.

Highly trained brains were needed for the delicate calculations

essential to the manufacture of explosives and to the creation of new

types of guns. It meant the installation of eminent specialists at the

Ministry and the carrying out of elaborate experiments in laboratories

and open-air trial grounds. The syndicates, I repeat, made no

difficulty for the Minister by adherence to rules framed for peace; but,

of course, the power of these bodies in France over their fellow-workers

is less pronounced than across the Straits. But, though it has its

stringent rules, it raised no finger of protest against the speeding-up

of production, the continuous shifts, the employment of women and

children and of coloured labour. The difficulty that existed was

entirely due to the fear of creating any suspicion of favouritism

amongst those who were fighting the country's battles by any arbitrary

selection of men for employment in the factories. None the less, the

munitions worker had to be recruited on a large scale, for the

consumption of shot and shell exceeded all belief and emphasised the

fantastic character of the conflict.

No doubt the physical existence of the Channel was answerable for the

difference in attitude of French and English labour. It was difficult

for our workers to visualise the situation in France with its invaded

departments, its devastated villages, its ruined industries, its

strangulated commerce and those other disabilities which weigh upon a

nation that has suffered defilement from the foe. But the French soon

came to see that the loyalty of the British working man was not in

question because of his reluctance to accept a system which, however,

both Abraham Lincoln and Cromwell found necessary in the raising of

armed forces for the carrying out of national purposes. And yet neither

could be accused of being indifferent to the claims of democracy.

*CHAPTER IX*

*FRENCH DISCIPLINE AND LEADERSHIP*

A certain number of political students had come to the discouraging

conclusion that discipline could not exist side by side with a pure

democracy. The two things, they said, were incompatible. Trade Union

leaders in England were for a long time apparently under the same

illusion. Joffre, whom I have tried to show as the perfect democrat,

will not accept any such view. In a frank and engaging mood of

communicability, he explained to an American writer, Mr. Owen Johnson,

who visited him at Headquarters, that democracy was by no means the

uneasy bedfellow of discipline; the two could exist in the most perfect

harmony. "Where a nation is truly Republican, I do not think there is

any danger to the spirit of democracy in military preparation," said

Joffre, in reply to the suggestions that the existence of a large army

was a constant incitement to war, and opposed, therefore, to those

pacific principles upon which a modern republic must be founded.

Military discipline does not undermine democracy: that is his argument.

"In a republic where the need of individual liberty is always strong,

military service gives the citizen a quality of self-discipline which he

needs, perhaps, to respect the rights of others, as well as to act in

organised bodies." And then he added that if America--and the remark

applies, of course, to England--dreaded military service, it was because

the citizen had his eyes fixed on the German ideal rather than on the

French. The distinction between the French Army and the German was a

difference in the conception of the role of the soldier. The German

system made a man into a machine. It was based on fear, and robbed him

of his initiative. It explained the attack in close formation, the

stupendous throwing away of life, and an officer class, a veritable

Brahmin caste, that did not transmit orders directly, but through

sergeants and corporals. The French spirit, on the other hand, implied

fraternity. The officer was interested in the welfare of his men and

regarded them as his children. Nothing was indifferent to him which

affected them morally or materially. The German system was the revolver

at the head, the French the word of encouragement, the smile, the _bonne

camaraderie_.

General Joffre's distinction happily expresses the fundamental character

of the two systems; it goes to the root of army psychology. The French

method requires a knowledge of the temperament of the men; for, though

you may drive the dull and high-spirited in much the same way, provided

you are brutal enough, to lead successfully requires knowledge of mental

characteristics and a certain power of appeal which elicits the best

efforts in your men. French officers, therefore, have to be

psychologists, understanding the character of those they lead and the

subtle differences that divide the townsman from the peasant. They must

vary indefinably the address when they talk to one or the other. These

two broad classes are moved by different springs of action, and the

commander has to find out the best way of firing the lethargic and

attracting the fiery nature.

A French friend, who commanded a battalion of engineers, gave me some

explanation of the methods he employed in dealing with a difficult

class, the town-bred mechanic. His battalion was composed of men from

provincial centres, with a sprinkling of skilled workmen from Paris. He

played off one against the other. When the Parisian was inclined to

show slackness or insubordination he remonstrated with him in a tone of

raillery and mock commiseration. It was certainly regrettable that he

could not attain to the same level of conduct or efficiency as those

excellent fellows from the provinces, who, after all, had not enjoyed

the same advantages. Rarely had he to speak twice to the same

delinquent; the man's _amour propre_ was aroused; from that moment, he

commenced to mend his ways. To the provincial he said that he was

surprised that a man of his energy and parts should allow himself to

take second place to the Parisian. Then it was true that the countryman

could not hold his own with workers from the capital? This, again,

proved admirably adapted to the particular mentality of his hearer; his

pride was piqued; he gave no more trouble. Thus, to command under the

French system requires considerable adroitness and intelligence.

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