That sweep forward of the British in the last three months was an
astounding achievement. They were the same men who halted on the
armistice line down from Mons as those who had begun the attack three
months before. They had few reinforcements. They had gone beyond their
heavy guns, almost out of reach of their transport. Their losses had
been heavy. There was no battalion at more than half its strength. They
had been strained to the last fibre of nervous energy. But they had
never slackened up. They were inspired by more than mortal strength, by
the exultation of advance, the liberation of great cities, the rescue
of populations long under German rule, the fever of getting forward to
the end at last.
The delirious welcome of the liberated peoples awakened some of the
first emotions of war which had long seemed dead. The entry into Lille
was unforgettable. The first men in khaki were surrounded by wild
crowds of men and women weeping with joy at the sight of them. Their
buttons and shoulder straps were torn off as souvenirs. They were
kissed by old women, bearded men, young girls, babies. Once again rose
the cry of “_Vivent les Anglais!_” as in the beginning of the war. Our
men were glad to be alive that day to get the welcome of these people
who had suffered mental torture and many tyrannies during those four
years under German rule. The fire of gratitude warmed cold hearts,
re-lit enthusiasm, made it all seem worth while after all. Surely
the French in Lille, the Belgians in Bruges, the people of Tournai,
Cambrai, Valenciennes, Liége, have not forgotten those days of
liberation. Surely _they_ did not join in the cynical chorus which rose
against England in France, or at least in the French press, during the
years that followed? That to me is unbelievable, with these memories in
my heart.
It was Marshal Foch himself who acknowledged with generous warmth
that in these last months of war it was the hammer strokes of the
British army which did most to break the German war machine to bits, by
enormous captures of prisoners, guns, and ground. General Ludendorff
has said so, squarely, in his books; and history will record it, though
it was quickly forgotten in some countries and never known in others.
It is only for the sake of truth that it is worth recalling now, for
there is no boast of victory in the hearts of men, knowing its cost and
its horror, and no glory left about that war except the memory of the
world’s youth which suffered on both sides of the line.