My staff was from the outset a fairly substantial one--much the

largest of that in any War Office Directorate--and, although I am no

great believer in a multitudinous personnel swarming in a public

office, it somehow grew. It was composed partly of officers and others

whom I found on arrival, partly of new hands brought in automatically

on mobilization like myself to fill the places of picked men who had

been spirited away with the Expeditionary Force, and partly of

individuals acquired later on as other regular occupants were received

up into the framework of the growing fighting forces of the country. A

proportion of the new-comers were dug-outs, and it may not be out of

place to say a word concerning this particular class of officer as

introduced into the War Office, of whom I formed one myself.

Instigated thereunto by that gushing fountain of unimpeachable

information, the Press, the public were during the early part of the

war disposed to attribute all high crimes and misdemeanours, of which

the central administration of the nation's military forces was

pronounced to have been guilty, to the "dug-out." That the personnel

of the War Office was always set out in detail at the beginning of the

_Monthly Army List_, the omniscient Fourth Estate was naturally aware;

but the management of a newspaper could hardly be expected to purchase

a copy (it was not made confidential for a year). Nor could a

journalistic staff condescend to study this work of reference at some

library or club. Under the circumstances, and having heard that such

people as "dug-outs" actually existed, the Press as a matter of course

assumed that within the portals in Whitehall Lord Kitchener was

struggling in vain against the ineptitude and reactionary tendencies

of a set of prehistoric creatures who constituted the whole of his

staff. The fact, however, was that all the higher appointments (with

scarcely an exception other than that of myself) were occupied by

soldiers who had been on the active list at the time of mobilization,

and the great majority of whom simply remained at their posts after

war was declared.

Nor were "dug-outs," whether inside or outside of the War Office, by

necessity and in obedience to some inviolable rule individuals

languishing in the last stage of mental and bodily decay. Some of them

were held to be not too effete to bear their burden even amid the

stress and turmoil of the battlefield. One, after serving with

conspicuous distinction in several theatres of war, finished up as

Chief of the General Staff and right-hand man to Sir Douglas Haig in

1918. Those members of the band who were at my beck and call within

the War Office generally contrived to grapple effectually with

whatever they undertook, and amongst them certainly not the least

competent and interesting was a Rip Van Winkle, whom we will call

"Z"--for short.

A subaltern at the start, "Z" was fitted out with all the virtues of

the typical subaltern, but was furnished in addition with certain

virtues that the typical subaltern does not necessarily possess. It

could not be said of him that

deep on his brow engraven

Deliberation sat and sovereign care,

but he treated Cabinet Ministers with an engaging blend of firmness

and familiarity, and he could, when occasion called for it, keep

Royalty in its place. Once when he thought fit to pay a visit on duty

to Paris and the front, he took me with him, explaining that unless he

had a general officer in his train there might be difficulties as to

his being accompanied by his soldier servant. Generals and colonels

and people of that kind doing duty at the War Office did not then have

soldier servants--but "Z" did. It is, however, bare justice to him to

acknowledge that, after I had served his purpose and when he came to

send me back to England from Boulogne before he resumed his inspection

of troops and trenches, he was grandmotherly in his solicitude that I

should meet with no misadventure. "Have you got your yellow form all

right, sir? You'd better look. No, no; that's not it, that's another

thing altogether. Surely you haven't lost it already! Ah, that's it.

Now, do put it in your right-hand breast pocket, where you won't get

it messed up with your pocket-handkerchief, sir, and remember where it

is." It reminded one of being sent off as a small boy to school.

It was his practice to make a round of the different Public

Departments of a forenoon, and to draw the attention of those

concerned in each of them to any matters that appeared to him to call

for comment. The Admiralty and the Foreign Office naturally engaged

his attention more than others, but he was a familiar figure in them

all. His activities were so varied indeed that they almost might have

been summed up as universal, which being the case, it is not perhaps

altogether to be wondered at that he did occasionally make a mistake.

For instance:

He burst tumultuously into my room one morning flourishing a paper.

"Have you seen this, sir?" As a matter of fact I had seen it; but as

the document had conveyed no meaning to my mind, dissembled. Its

purport was that 580 tons of a substance of which I had never heard

before, and of which I have forgotten the name, had been landed

somewhere or other in Scandinavia. "But do you know what it is, sir?

It's the most appalling poison! It's the concoction that the South Sea

Islanders smear their bows and arrows with--cyanide and prussic acid

are soothing-syrup compared to it. Of course it's for those filthy

Boches. Five hundred and eighty tons of it! There won't be a bullet or

a zeppelin or a shell or a bayonet or a dart or a strand of

barbed-wire that won't be reeking with the stuff." I was aghast.

"Shall I go and see the Director-General, A.M.S., about it, sir?"

"Yes, do, by all means. The very thing."

He came back presently. "I've seen the D.-G., sir, and he's

frightfully excited. He's got hold of all his deputies and hangers-on,

and the whole gang of them are talking as if they were wound up. One

of them says he thinks he has heard of an antidote, but of course he

knows nothing whatever about it really, and is only talking through

his hat, I tell you what, sir, we ought to lend them a hand in this

business. I know Professor Stingo; he's miles and away the biggest man

on smells and that sort of thing in London, if not in Europe. So, if

you'll let me, I'll charter a taxi and be off and hunt him up, and get

him to work. If the thing can be done, sir, he's the lad for the job.

May I go, sir?"

"Very well, do as you propose, and let me know the result."

He turned up again in the afternoon. "I've seen old man Stingo, sir,

and he's for it all right. He's going to collect a lot more sportsmen

of the same kidney, and they're going to have the time of their lives,

and to make a regular night of it. You see, sir, I pointed out to him

that this was a matter of the utmost urgency--not merely a question of

finding an antidote, but also of distributing it methodically and

broadcast. After it's been invented or made or procured, or whatever's

got to be done, some comedian in the Quartermaster-General's show will

insist on the result being packed up in receptacles warranted

rot-proof against everything that the mind of man can conceive till

the Day of Judgment--you know the absurd way those sort of people go

on, sir--and all that will take ages, æons." He really thought of

everything. "And there'll have to be books of instructions and

classes, and the Lord knows what besides! After that the stuff'll have

to be carted off to France and the Dardanelles, and maybe to Archangel

and Mesopotamia; so Stingo and Co. are going to be up all night, and

mean to arrive at some result or to perish in the attempt. And now,

sir, what have you done about it at the Foreign Office?"

This was disconcerting, seeing that I had done nothing.

"Oh, but, sir," sounding that note of submissive expostulation which

the tactful staff-officer contrives to introduce when he feels himself

obliged reluctantly to express disapproval of superior military

authority, "oughtn't we to do something? How would it be if I were to

go down and see Grey, or one of them, and to talk to him like a

father?"

"Well, perhaps it might be advisable to make a guarded suggestion to

them on the subject. Give my compliments to ----" But he was gone.

He returned in about half an hour. "I've been down to the Foreign

Office, sir, and as you might have expected, they haven't done a

blooming thing. What those 'dips' think they're paid for always beats

me! However, I've got them to promise to cable out to their

ambassadors and consuls and bottle-washers in Scandinavia to keep

their wits about them. I offered to draft the wires for them; but they

seemed to think that they could do it themselves, and I daresay

they'll manage all right now that I've told them exactly what they

are to say. I really do not know that we can do anything more about it

this evening," he added doubtfully, and with a worried, far-away look

on his face. Good heavens, he was never going to think of something

else! He took himself off, however, still evidently dissatisfied and

communing with himself.

Next forenoon "Z" came into my room in a hurry. "I've been hearing

about the caterpillars, sir," he exclaimed joyously.

"The caterpillars?"

"Oh, not crawly things like one finds in one's salad, sir. The ones

the Admiralty are making[5]--armoured motor contrivances, with great

big feet that will go across country and jump canals, and go bang

through Boche trenches and barbed wire as if they weren't there.

They'll be perfectly splendid--full of platoons and bombs and machine

guns, and all the rest of it. I _will_ say this for Winston and those

mariners across Whitehall, when they get an idea they carry it out and

do not bother whether the thing'll be any use or can be made at

all--care no more for the Treasury than if it was so much dirt, and

quite right too! Just what it is. But when they've got their

caterpillars made, they won't know what to do with them any more than

the Babes in the Wood. Then we'll collar them; but in the meantime I

might be able to give them some hints, so, if you'll let me, I'll go

across and----"

[Footnote 5: The first I heard of the Tanks, which

made so dramatic a debut near the Somme a year and

a half later.]

"Yes, yes; but just one moment. How about the poison?"

"The poison, sir? What poi--oh, that stuff. Didn't I tell you, sir? It

isn't poison at all. You see, sir, it's this way. There are two forms

of it. There's the white form, and that _is_ poison, shocking poison;

it's what the Fijians use when they want to pacify a busybody like

Captain Cook who comes butting in where he isn't wanted. As a matter

of fact there's uncommon little of it--they don't get a hundredweight

in a generation. Then there's the red form, and that's what Johnnies

have been dumping down 580 tons of at What's-its-name. It's quite

innocuous, and is used for commercial purposes--tanning leather, or

making spills, or something of that kind. Now may I go to the Ad----"

"But have you told all this to the Director-General?"

"Oh yes, sir. I told him first thing this morning."

"Did he pass no remarks as to your having started him off after this

absurd hare of yours?"

"Well, you see, sir, he's an uncommonly busy man, and I didn't feel

justified in wasting his time. So, after relieving his mind, I cleared

out at once."

"And your professors?"

"Oh, those professor-men--it would never do to tell them, sir. They'd

be perfectly miserable if they were deprived of the excitement of

muddling about with their crucibles and blow-pipes and retorts and

things. It would be cruelty to animals to enlighten them--it would

indeed, sir; and I know that you would not wish me to do anything to

discourage scientific investigation. Now, sir, may I go over to the

Admiralty?" And off he went, with instructions to find out all that he

could about these contrivances that he had heard about, and to do what

he could to promote their production. A treasure: unconventional,

resourceful, exceptionally well informed, determined; the man to get a

thing done that one wanted done--even if he did at times get a thing

done that one didn't particularly want done--and in some respects

quite the best intelligence officer I have come across in a fairly

wide experience. To-day "Z" commands the applause of listening senates

in the purlieus of St. Stephen's and has given up to party what was

meant for mankind; but although he is not Prime Minister yet, nor even

a Secretary of State, that will come in due course.

It was in May 1915 that "Z" told me that the Admiralty were at work on

some sort of land-ship, and set about finding out what was being

done; he had previously been in communication with Colonel E. D.

Swinton over at the front. Only in the latter part of 1919, when the

question of claims in connection with the invention and the

development of Tanks had been investigated by a Royal Commission, did

I learn to my astonishment that this matter had been brought by

Swinton before the War Office so early as the beginning of January

1915, and that his projects had then been "turned down" by a technical

branch to which he had, unfortunately, referred them. It does not seem

possible that the technical branch can have brought the question to

the notice of the General Staff, or I must have heard of it. The value

of some contrivance such as he was confident could be constructed was

from the tactical point of view incontestable, and had been

incontestable ever since trench warfare became the order of the day on

the Western Front in the late autumn of 1914. But the idea of the

land-ship appeared to be an idle dream, and there was perhaps some

excuse for the General Staff in its not of its own accord pressing

upon the technical people that something of the sort must be produced

somehow. Knowledge that a thoroughly practical man possessed of

engineering knowledge and distinguished for his prescience like

Swinton was convinced that the thing was feasible, was just what was

required to set the General Staff in motion.

Thanks to Swinton, and also to "Z," the General Staff did get into

touch with the Admiralty in May, and then found that a good deal had

already been done, owing to Mr. Churchill's imagination and foresight

and to the energy and ingenuity with which the land-ship idea had been

taken up at his instigation. But the War Office came badly out of the

business, and the severe criticisms to which it has been exposed in

connection with the subject are better deserved than a good many of

the criticisms of which it has been the victim. The blunder was not

perhaps so much the fault of individuals as of the system. The

technical branches had not been put in their place before the war,

they did not understand their position and did not realize that on

broad questions of policy they were subject to the General Staff. It

is worthy of note, incidentally, that Swinton never seems to have got

much satisfaction with G.H.Q. in France until he brought his ideas

direct before the General Staff out there on the 1st of June by

submitting a memorandum to the Commander-in-Chief. It is to be hoped

that the subserviency of all other branches to the General Staff in

connection with matters of principle has been established once for all

by this time; it was, I think, pretty well established by Sir W.

Robertson when he became C.I.G.S. Should there ever be any doubt about

the matter--well, remember the start of the Tanks!

One morning in January or February 1915, Lord K. sent for me to his

room. It appeared that Lord Fisher had in mind a project of

constructing a flotilla of lighters of special type, to be driven by

motor power and designed for the express purpose of landing large

bodies of troops rapidly on an enemy's coast. The First Sea Lord was

anxious to discuss details with somebody from our side of Whitehall,

and the Chief wished me to take the thing up, the whole business being

of a most secret character. Lord Fisher, I gathered, contemplated

descents upon German shores; Lord K. did not appear to take these very

seriously, but he did foresee that a flotilla of the nature proposed

might prove extremely useful in connection with possible future

operations on the Flanders littoral. In any case, seeing that the

Admiralty were prepared to undertake a construction job of this kind

more or less in the interests of us soldiers, we ought to give the

plan every encouragement.

Vague suggestions had reached me from across the road shortly

before--I do not recollect exactly how they came to hand--to the

effect that one ought to examine into the possibilities offered by

military operations based on the German Baltic coast and against the

Frisian Islands. Attacks upon these islands presented concrete

problems; the question in their case had been already gone into

carefully by other hands before the war, and schemes of this

particular kind had not been found to offer much attraction when their

details came to be considered. As for the Baltic coast, one was given

nothing whatever to go upon--was groping in the dark. You wondered how

it was proposed to obtain command of these protected waters, bearing

in mind the nature of the approaches through defiles which happened to

be in the main in neutral hands, but you realized that this was a

naval question and therefore somebody else's job. Still, even given

this command, what then? Investigations of the subject, based upon

uncertain premises, did not lead to the conclusion that, beyond

"containing" hostile forces which otherwise might be available for

warfare in some other quarter, a landing in large force on these

shores was likely to prove an effective operation of war; and it was

bound to be an extremely hazardous one.

It has since transpired from Lord Fisher's volcanic _Memories_ that

the First Sea Lord had, with his "own hands alone to preserve secret

all arrangements," prepared plans for depositing three "great armies"

at different places in the Baltic, "two of them being feints that

could be turned into reality." How the First Sea Lord could draw up

plans of this kind that were capable of being put into effective

execution without some military assistance I do not pretend to

understand. A venture such as this does not begin and end with dumping

down any sort of army you like at a spot on the enemy's shores where

it happens to be practicable to disembark troops rapidly. Once landed,

the army still has to go ahead and do its business, whatever this is,

as a military undertaking, and it stands in need of some definite and

practicable objective. The numbers of which it is to consist and its

detailed organization have to be worked out in advance, with a clear

idea of what service it is intended to perform and of the strength of

the enemy forces which it is likely to encounter while carrying out

its purpose. It has to be fed and has to be supplied with war material

after it has been deposited on _terra firma_. Is it to take its

transport with it, or will it pick this up on arrival? Even the

constitution of the armada which is to convey it to its point of

disembarkation by no means represents a purely naval problem. Until

the sailors know what the composition of the military force in respect

to men, animals, vehicles, etc., is to be, they cannot calculate what

tonnage will be required, or decide how that tonnage is to be allotted

for transporting the troops oversea. For a project of this kind to be

worked out solely by naval experts would be no less ridiculous than

for it to be worked out solely by military experts. Secrecy in a

situation of this kind is no doubt imperative, but you must trust

somebody or you will head straight for catastrophe.

When I went over by appointment to see Lord Fisher, he got to work at

once in that inimitable way of his. He explained that what he had in

view was to place sufficient motor-lighters at Lord Kitchener's

disposal, each carrying about 500 men, to land 50,000 troops on a

beach at one time. He insisted upon the most absolute secrecy. What he

wanted me to do was to discuss the construction of the lighters in

detail with the admiral who had the job in charge, so as to ensure

that their design would fall in with purely military requirements. I

had, some sixteen years before when Lord Fisher had been

Commander-in-Chief on the Mediterranean station, enjoyed a

confidential discussion with him in Malta concerning certain

strategical questions in that part of the world, and had been amazed

at the alertness of his brain, his originality of thought, his

intoxicating enthusiasm, and his relentless driving power. Now, in

1915, he seemed to be even younger than he had seemed then. He covered

the ground at such a pace that I was speedily toiling breathless and

dishevelled far in rear. It is all very well to carry off _Memories_

into a quiet corner and to try to assimilate limited portions of that

work at a time, deliberately and in solitude. But to have a

hotch-potch of Shakespeare, internal combustion engines, chemical

devices for smoke screens, principles of the utilization of sea power

in war, Holy Writ, and details of ship construction dolloped out on

one's plate, and to have to bolt it then and there, imposes a strain

on the interior economy that is greater than this will stand. After an

interview with the First Sea Lord you suffered from that giddy,

bewildered, exhausted sort of feeling that no doubt has you in thrall

when you have been run over by a motor bus without suffering actual

physical injury.

The main point that I insisted upon when in due course discussing the

construction details of the motor-lighters with the admiral who was

supervising the work, was that they should be so designed as to let

the troops aboard of them rush out quickly as soon as the prow should

touch the shore. The vessels were put together rapidly, and one or two

of those first completed were experimented with in the Solent towards

the end of April, when they were found quite satisfactory. Although

they were never turned to account for the purpose which Lord Fisher

had had in mind when the decision was taken to build them, a number of

these mobile barges proved extremely useful to our troops in the later

stages of the Dardanelles campaign, notably on the occasion of the

landing at Suvla and while the final evacuations were being carried

out. Indeed, but for the "beetles" (as the soldiers christened these

new-fangled craft), our army would never have got away from the

Gallipoli Peninsula with such small loss of stores and impedimenta as

it did, and the last troops told off to leave Helles on the stormy

night of the 8th-9th of January 1916 might have been unable to embark

and might have met with a deplorable disaster.

After that first meeting with him at the Admiralty, I frequently saw

Lord Fisher, and he kept me acquainted with his views on many points,

notably on what was involved in the threat of the U-boats after Sir I.

Hamilton had landed his troops in the Gallipoli Peninsula. On more

than one occasion he honoured me with a surprise visit in my office.

These interviews in my sanctum were of quite a dramatic,

Harrison-Ainsworth, Gunpowder-Treason, Man-in-the-Iron-Mask character.

He gave me no warning, scorning the normal procedure of induction by a

messenger. He would appear of a sudden peeping in at the door to see

if I was at home, would then thrust the door to and lock it on the

inside with a deft turn of the wrist, would screw up the lean-to

ventilator above the door in frantic haste, and would have darted over

and be sitting down beside me, talking earnestly and _ventre-à-terre_

of matters of grave moment, almost before I could rise to my feet and

conform to those deferential observances that are customary when a

junior officer has to deal with one of much higher standing. Some

subjects treated of on these occasions were of an extremely

confidential nature, and in view of the laxity of many eminent

officials and--if the truth be told--of military officers as a body,

the precautions taken by the First Sea Lord within my apartment were

perhaps not without justification.

War is too serious a business to warrant the proclamation of

prospective naval and military operations from the housetops.

Reasonable precautions must be taken. One thing one did learn during

those early months of the war, and that was that the fewer the

individuals are--no matter who they may be--who are made acquainted

with secrets the better. But this is not of such vital importance when

the secret concerns some matter of limited interest to the ordinary

person as it is when the secret happens to relate to what is

calculated to attract public attention.

Of course it was most reprehensible on the part of that expansive

youth, Geoffrey, to have acquainted Gladys--strictly between

themselves of course--that his company had been "dished out with a

brand-new, slap-up, experimental automatic rifle, that'll make Mr.

Boche sit up when we get across." Still it did no harm, because Gladys

doesn't care twopence about rifles of any kind, and had forgotten all

about it before she had swallowed the chocolate that was in her

mouth. But when Geoffrey informed Gladys a fortnight later--again

strictly between themselves--that the regiment was booked for a stunt

at Cuxhaven, it did a great deal of harm. Because, although Gladys did

not know where Cuxhaven was, she looked it up in the atlas when she

got home, and she thereupon realized, with a wriggle of gratification,

that she was "in the know," and under the circumstances she could

hardly have been expected not to tell Agatha--under pledge, needless

to say, of inviolable secrecy. Nor would you have been well advised to

have bet that Agatha would not--in confidence--mention the matter to

Genevieve, because you would have lost your money if you had. Then, it

was only to be expected that Genevieve should let the cat out of the

bag that afternoon at the meeting of Lady Blabit's Committee for the

Development of Discretion in Damsels, observing that in _such_ company

a secret was bound to be absolutely safe. However, that was how the

whole story came to be known, and Geoffrey might just as well have

done the thing handsomely, and have placarded what was contemplated in

Trafalgar Square alongside Mr. Bonar Law's frenzied incitements to buy

war bonds.

Speaking seriously, there is rather too much of the sieve about the

soldier officer when information comes to his knowledge which it is

his duty to keep to himself. He has much to learn in this respect from

his sailor brother. You won't get much to windward of the naval cadet

or the midshipman if you try to extract out of him details concerning

the vessel which has him on her books in time of war--what she is,

where she is, or how she occupies her time. These youngsters cannot

have absorbed this reticence simply automatically and as one of the

traditions of that great Silent Service, to which, more than to any

other factor, we and our Allies owe our common triumph in the Great

War. It must have been dinned into them at Osborne and Dartmouth, and

it must have been impressed upon them--forcibly as is the way amongst

those whose dwelling is in the Great Waters--day by day by their

superiors afloat. The subject used not to be mentioned at the Woolwich

Academy in the seventies. Nor was secretiveness inculcated amongst

battery subalterns a few years subsequently. One does not recollect

hearing anything about it during the Staff College course, nor call to

mind having preached the virtues of discretion in this matter to one's

juniors oneself at a later date. Here is a matter which has been

grossly neglected and which the General Staff must see to.

When Lord Kitchener was going to be away from town for two or three

days in the summer of 1915, he sometimes instructed me to be at Mr.

Asquith's beck and call during his absence in case some important

question should suddenly arise, and once or twice I was summoned to 10

Downing Street of a morning in consequence, and was ushered into the

precincts. On these occasions the Prime Minister was to be found in a

big room upstairs; and he was always walking up and down, like

Aristotle only that he had his hands in his pockets. His demeanour

would be a blend of boredom with the benign. "Whatch-think of this?"

he would demand, snatching up some paper from his desk, cramming it

into my hand, and continuing his promenade. Such observations on my

part in response to the invitation as seemed to meet the case would be

acknowledged with a grunt--dissent, concurrence, incredulity, or a

desire for further information being communicated by modulations in

the grunt. Once, when the document under survey elaborated one of Mr.

Churchill's virgin plans of revolutionizing the conduct of the war as

a whole, the Right Honourable Gentleman in an access of exuberance

became garrulous to the extent of muttering, "'Tslike a hen laying

eggs."

But, all the same, when instructions came to be given at the end of

such an interview, they invariably were lucid, concise, and very much

to the point. You knew exactly where you were. For condensing what was

needed in a case like this into a convincing form of words, for

epitomizing in a single sentence the conclusions arrived at (supposing

conclusions by any chance to have been arrived at) after prolonged

discussions by a War Council, or at a gathering of the Dardanelles

Committee, I have never come across anybody in the same street with

Mr. Asquith.

CHAPTER VII

FURTHER EXPERIENCES IN THE WAR OFFICE

Varied nature of my responsibilities -- Inconvenience caused by a

Heath-Caldwell being a brother-Director on the General Staff --

An interview with Lord Methuen -- The Man of Business -- His

methods when in charge of a Government Department -- War Office

branches under Men of Business -- The art of advertisement --

This not understood by War Office officials -- The paltry staff

and accommodation at the disposal of the Director of Supplies and

Transport, and what was accomplished -- Good work of the

Committee of Imperial Defence in providing certain organizations

for special purposes before the war -- The contre-espionage

branch -- The Government's singular conduct on the occasion of

the first enemy spy being executed at the Tower -- The cable

censorship -- The post office censorship -- A visit from Admiral

Bacon -- His plan of landing troops by night at Ostend -- Some

observations on the subject -- Sir J. Wolfe Murray leaves the War

Office -- An appreciation of his work -- The Dardanelles papers

to be presented to Parliament referred to me -- My action in the

matter and the appointment of the Dardanelles Committee in

consequence -- Mr. Lloyd George, Secretary of State for War --

His activities -- I act as D.C.I.G.S. for a month -- Sound

organization introduced by Sir W. Robertson -- Normal

trench-warfare casualties and battle casualties -- I learn the

facts about the strengths of the different armies in the field --

Troubles with the Cabinet over man-power -- Question of

resignation of the Army Council -- The Tank Corps and Tanks --

The War Office helps in the reorganization of the Admiralty --

Some of the War Cabinet want to divert troops to the Isonzo --

The folly of such a plan -- Objections to it indicated -- Arrival

of General Pershing in London -- I form one of the party that

proceeds to Devonport to meet Colonel House and the United States

Commissioners -- Its adventures -- Admirals adrift -- Mr. Balfour

meets the Commissioners at Paddington.

During those months as Director of Military Operations my

responsibilities were in reality of a most varied nature. They covered

pretty well the whole field of endeavour, from drafting documents

bearing upon operations--subjects for the edification of the very

elect--down to returning to him by King's Messenger the teeth which a

well-known staff-officer had inadvertently left behind him at his club

when returning to the front from short leave. One was for various

reasons brought into contact with numbers of public men who were quite

outside of Government circles and official institutions, and whose

acquaintance it was agreeable to make. Moreover, officers of high

standing, over from the front or holding commands at home, would look

in to pass the time of day and keep one posted with what was going on

afield. Soldiers appointed to some new billet overseas had constantly

to be fitted out with instructions, or to be provided with books,

maps, and cipher. The last that I was to see of that brilliant leader,

General Maude, was when I went down to Victoria to see him and my old

contemporary of "Shop" days, General E. A. Fanshawe, off on their

hurried journey to the Dardanelles in August 1915.

A certain amount of minor inconvenience in connection with telephones,

correspondence, visits, and so on, arose owing to General

Heath-Caldwell taking up the appointment of Director of Military

Training about six months after mobilization. That two out of the four

Directors on the General Staff within the War Office should have

practically the same name, was something of a coincidence. Lord

Methuen, who was then holding a very important appointment in

connection with the home army (with which I had nothing to do), was

ushered into my room one day. He had scarcely sat down when he began,

"Now I know how tremendously busy all you people are, and I won't keep

you one moment, but ...," and he embarked on some question in

connection with the training of the troops in the United Kingdom. I

tried to interrupt; but he checked me with a gesture, and took

complete command of the situation. "No, no. Just let me finish what I

want to say ..." and off he was again in full cry, entirely out of

control. After one or two other attempts to stop him, I had to give it

up. You can't coerce a Field-Marshal: it isn't done. At last, after

about five minutes of rapid and eager exposition of what he had come

to the War Office to discuss, he wound up with "Well, what d'you think

of that. I haven't kept you long, have I?" It was then up to me to

explain that he had attacked the wrong man, that the question he was

interested in did not concern me, and that the best thing I could do

was to conduct him forthwith to Heath-Caldwell's lair.

One saw something of the Man of Business in those days, as also later.

Next to the "Skilled Workman," the "Man of Business" is the greatest

impostor amongst the many impostors at present preying on the

community. Just as there are plenty of genuine Skilled Workmen, so

also are there numbers of Men of Business who, thanks to their

capacity and to the advantage that they have taken of experience,

constitute real assets to the nation. Latter-day events have, however,

taught us that the majority of the individuals who pose as Skilled

Workmen are in reality engaged on operations which anybody in full

power of his faculties and of the most ordinary capacity can learn to

carry on within a very few hours, if not within a very few minutes.

What occurred in Government departments during the war proved that a

very large percentage of the Men of Business, who somehow found their

way into public employ, were no great catch even if they did manage to

spend a good deal of the taxpayer's money. To draw a sharp

dividing-line between the nation's good bargains and the nation's bad

bargains in this respect would be out of the question. To try to

separate the sheep from the goats would be as invidious as it would be

vain--there were a lot of hybrids. But it was not military men within

the War Office alone who suffered considerable disillusionment on

being brought into contact with the Man of Business in the aggregate;

that was also the experience of the Civil Service in general.

The successful Man of Business has owed his triumphs to aptitude in

capturing the business of other people. Therefore when he blossoms out

as a Government official in charge of a department, he devotes his

principal energies to trying to absorb rival departments. It was a

case of fat kine endeavouring to swallow lean kine, but finding at

times that the lean kine were not so badly nourished after all--and

took a deal of swallowing. And yet successful Men of Business, when

introduced into Government departments, do have their points. One

wonders how much the income-tax payer would be saved during the next

decade or two had some really great knight of industry, content to do

his own work and not covetous of that of other people (assuming such a

combination of the paragon and the freak to exist), been placed in

charge of the Ministry of Munitions as soon as Mr. Lloyd George had,

with his defiance of Treasury convention, with his wealth of

imagination, and with his irrepressible and buoyant courage, set the

thing up on the vast foundations already laid by the War Office.

Unsuccessful Men of Business, when introduced into Government

departments, have their points too, but they are mostly bad points.

The Man of Business' procedure, when he is placed at the head of a

Government department, or of some branch of a Government department,

in time of war is well known. He makes himself master of some gigantic

building or some set of buildings. He then sets to work to people the

premises with creatures of his own. He then, with the assistance of

the superior grades amongst the creatures, becomes wrapped up in

devising employment for the multitudinous personnel that has been got

together. He then finds that he has not got sufficient accommodation

to house his legions--and so it goes on. He talks in moments of

relaxation of "introducing business methods into Whitehall." But that

is absurd. You could not introduce business methods into Whitehall,

because there is not room enough; you would have to commandeer the

whole of the West End, and then you would be cramped. While the big

men at the top are wrestling with housing problems, the staff are

engaged in writing minutes to each other--a process which, when

indulged in, in out-of-date institutions of the War Office,

Admiralty, Colonial Office type, is called "red tape," but which, when

put in force in a department watched over by Men of Business, is

called "push and go." Engulfed in one of the mushroom branches that

were introduced into the War Office in the later stages of the war, I

could not but be impressed by what I saw. The women were splendid: the

way in which they kept the lifts in exercise, each lady spending her

time going up and down, burdened with a tea-cup or a towel and

sometimes with both, was beyond all praise.

One is prejudiced perhaps, and may not on that account do full justice

to the achievements of some of those civilian branches which were

evolved within the War Office and which elbowed out military branches

altogether or else absorbed them. But they enjoyed great advantages,

and on that account much could fairly be expected of them. Your

civilian, introduced into the place with full powers, a blank cheque

and the uniform of a general officer, stood on a very different

footing from the soldier ever hampered by a control that was not

always beneficently administered--financial experts on the War Office

staff are apt to deliver their onsets upon the Treasury to the

battle-cry of _Kamerad_. Still, should the civilian elect to maintain

on its military lines the branch that he had taken over, he sometimes

turned out to be an asset. When the new broom adopted the plan of

picking out the best men on the existing staff, of giving those

preferred a couple of steps in rank, of providing them with large

numbers of assistants, and of housing the result in some spacious

edifice or group of edifices especially devised for the purpose, he

sometimes contrived to develop what had been an efficient organization

before into a still more efficient one. In that case the spirit of the

branch remained, it carried on as a military institution but with a

free hand and with extended liberty of action--and the public service

benefited although the cost was considerably greater. But that was not

always the procedure decided upon.

Whatever procedure was decided upon, every care was taken to

advertise. Advertisement is an art that the Man of Business thoroughly

understands, and as to which he has little to learn even from the

politician with a Press syndicate at his back. Soldiers are deplorably

apathetic in this respect. It will hardly be believed that during the

war the military department charged with works and construction often

left the immediate supervision of the creation of some set of

buildings in the hands of a single foreman of works, acting under an

officer of Royal Engineers who only paid a visit daily as he would

have several other duties of the same nature to perform. But if that

set of buildings under construction came to be transferred to a

civilian department or branch--the Ministry of Munitions, let us

say--a large staff of supervisors of all kinds was at once introduced.

Offices for them to carry on their supervisory duties in were erected.

The thing was done in style, employment was given to a number of

worthy people at the public expense, and it is quite possible that the

supervisory duties were carried on no less efficiently than they had

previously been by the foreman of works, visited daily by the officer

of Royal Engineers.

From the outbreak of war and for nearly two years afterwards, the

headquarters administration of the supply branch of our armies in all

theatres except Mesopotamia and East Africa was carried out at the War

Office by one director, five military assistants and some thirty

clerks, together with one "permanent official" civilian aided by

half-a-dozen assistants and about thirty clerks. It administered and

controlled and supervised the obtaining and distribution of all

requirements in food and forage, as also of fuel, petrol,

disinfectants, and special hospital comforts, not only for the armies

in the field but also for the troops in the United Kingdom. This meant

an expenditure which by the end of the two years had increased to

about half a million sterling per diem. Affiliated to this branch, as

being under the same director, was the headquarters administration of

the military-transport service, consisting of some fifteen military

assistants and fifty or sixty clerks. The military transport service

included a personnel of fully 300,000 officers and men, and the branch

was charged with the obtaining of tens of thousands of motor vehicles

of all kinds and of the masses of spare parts needed to keep them in

working order, together with many other forms of transport material.

The whole of these two affiliated military branches of the War Office

could have been accommodated comfortably on one single floor of the

Hotel Metropole! Well has it been said that soldiers have no

imagination.

There were four especial branches under me to which some reference

ought to be made. Of two of them little was, in the nature of things,

heard during the war; these two were secret service branches, the one

obtaining information with regard to the enemy, the other preventing

the enemy from receiving information with regard to us. Of the other

two, one dealt with the cable censorship and the other with the postal

censorship. The Committee of Imperial Defence has been taken to task

in some ill-informed quarters because of that crying lack of

sufficient land forces and of munitions of certain kinds which made

itself apparent when the crisis came upon us. It was, however, merely

a consultative and not an executive body. It had no hold over the

purse-strings. Shortcomings in these respects were the fault not of

the Committee of Imperial Defence but of the Government of the day. On

the other hand, the Committee did splendid work in getting expert

sub-committees to compile regulations that were to be brought into

force in each Government department on the outbreak of war--compiling

regulations cost practically nothing. Moreover, thanks to its

representations and to its action, organizations were created in

peace-time for prosecuting espionage in time of war and for ensuring

an effective system of contre-espionage; these were under the control

of the Director of Military Operations, and were the two secret

branches referred to above.

About the former nothing can appropriately be disclosed. So much

interesting information about the latter has appeared in _German Spies

at Bay_ that little need be said about it, except to repeat what has

already appeared in that volume--the branch had already achieved a

notable triumph more than a fortnight before our Expeditionary Force

fired a shot and some hours before the Royal Navy brought off their

first success. For the whole enemy spy system within the United

Kingdom was virtually laid by the heels within twenty-four hours of

the declaration of war. Every effort to set it up afresh subsequently

was nipped in the bud before it could do mischief.

One point, however, deserves to be placed on record. The

disinclination of H.M. Government to announce the execution of the

first enemy agent to meet his fate, Lodi, was one of the most

extraordinary incidents that came to my knowledge in connection with

enemy spies. Lodi was an officer, or ex-officer, and a brave man who

in the service of his country had gambled with his life as the

stake--and had lost. He had fully acknowledged the justice of his

conviction. All who were acquainted with the facts felt sympathy for

him, although there could, of course, be no question of not carrying

out the inevitable sentence of the court-martial. And yet our

Government wanted to hush the whole thing up. They did not seem to

realize that the shooting of a spy does not, when the spy is an enemy,

mean punishment for a crime, that it represents a penalty which has to

be inflicted as a deterrent, and which if it is to fulfil its purpose

must be made known. Those of us who knew the facts were greatly

incensed at the most improper, and indeed fatuous, attitude which the

Executive for a time took up. What made them change their minds I do

not know.

Then there was the cable censorship, an organization which did

admirable work and got little thanks for it. The personnel consisted

largely of retired officers, and many of them broke down under the

prolonged strain. The potentialities of the cable censorship had not

been fully foreseen when it was automatically established on

mobilization, and of what it accomplished the general public know

practically nothing at all. The conception of this institution had at

the outset merely been that of setting up a barrier intended to

prevent naval and military information that was calculated to be of

service to the enemy from passing over the wires, whether in cipher or

in clear. But an enterprising, prescient, and masterful staff

perceived ere long that their powers could be developed and turned to

account in other directions with advantage to the State, notably in

that of stifling the commercial activities of the Central Powers in

the Western Hemisphere. The consequence was that within a very few

months the cable censorship had transformed itself to a great extent

out of an effective shield for defence into a potent weapon of attack.

The measure of its services to the country will never be known, as

some of its procedure cannot perhaps advantageously be disclosed. Its

labours were unadvertised, and its praises remained unsung. But those

who were behind the scenes are well aware of what it accomplished,

creeping along unseen tracks, to bring about the downfall of the Hun.

The postal censorship started as a branch of comparatively modest

dimensions; but it gradually developed into a huge department,

employing a personnel which necessarily included large numbers of

efficient linguists. The remarkable success achieved by the

contre-espionage service in preventing the re-establishment of the

enemy spy system after it had been smashed at the start was in no

small degree due to the work of the censorship. That the requisite

number of individuals well acquainted with some of the outlandish

lingoes which had to be grappled with proved to be forthcoming, is a

matter of surprise and a subject for congratulation. This was not a

case merely of French, German, Italian, and languages more or less

familiar to our educated and travelled classes. Much of the work was

in Scandinavian and in occult Slav tongues, a good deal of it not even

written in the Roman character. The staff was largely composed, it

should be mentioned, of ladies, some of them quite young; but young or

old--no, that won't do, for ladies are never old--quite young or only

moderately young, they took to the work like ducks to the water and

did yeoman service. As in the case of the cable censorship, employment

in the postal censorship was a thankless job; but the labourers of

both sexes in the branch had at least the satisfaction of knowing that

they had done their bit--some of them a good deal more than their

bit--for their country in its hour of trial.

Reference was made in the last chapter to certain discussions which

took place in the winter of 1914-15 on the subject of suggested

conjunct naval and military operations on the Flanders coast. The

possibility of such undertakings was never entirely lost sight of

during 1915, although the diversion of considerable British forces to

far-off theatres of war necessarily enhanced the difficulties that

stood in the way of a form of project which had much to recommend it

from the strategical point of view. Our hosts on the Western Front

were absolutely dependent upon the security of the Narrow Seas, and

that security was being menaced owing to the enemy having laid his

grip upon Ostend and Zeebrugge. One afternoon in the autumn of 1915

Admiral Bacon of the Dover Patrol, who believed in an extremely active

defence, came to see me and we had a long and interesting

conversation. He was full of a scheme for running some ship-loads of

troops right into Ostend harbour at night and landing the men by

surprise about the mole and the docks. His plans were not, however, at

this time worked out so elaborately, nor had such effective

preparations been taken in hand with regard to them, as was the case

at a later date after Sir D. Haig had taken up command of the B.E.F.

The Admiral describes these preparations and his developed plans in

_The Dover Patrol_.

On the occasion of this talk in the War Office, Admiral Bacon was, if

I recollect aright, contemplating landing the troops straight off the

ordinary type of vessel, not off craft especially designed and

constructed for the particular purpose, as was intended in his

improved project. Nor was it, I think, proposed to use "beetles"

(these may perhaps all have gone to the Mediterranean). My impression

at the time was that the scheme had very much to recommend it in

principle, but that its execution as it stood must represent an

extremely hazardous operation of war. Nor was this a moment when one

felt much leaning towards new-fangled tactical and strategical

devices, for we had a large force locked up under most depressing

conditions in the Gallipoli Peninsula, we were apparently going to be

let in for trouble in Macedonia, and, although the United Kingdom and

the Dominions had by this time very large forces under arms, a

considerable proportion of the troops could hardly be looked upon as

efficient owing to lack of training.

Looking at this question of the Flanders littoral from what, in a

naval and military sense, may be called the academical point of view,

it is certainly a great pity that neither the project worked out by

Admiral Bacon in the winter of 1915-16 in agreement with G.H.Q., nor

yet the later plan for conjunct operations to take place in this coast

region had the Passchendael offensive of 1917 not been so disastrously

delayed, was put into execution. Had either of them actually been

carried out this must, whatever the result was, have provided one of

the most dramatic and remarkable incidents in the course of the Great

War.

Passing reference has already been made to Sir Archie Murray's

assumption of the position of C.I.G.S. in October 1915, when he

replaced the late Sir James Wolfe-Murray. Shrewd, indefatigable, of

very varied experience, an excellent administrator and a man of such

charming personality that he could always get the very best out of

his subordinates, Sir James would have admirably filled any high,

non-technical appointment within the War Office during the early part

of the contest, other than that which he was suddenly called upon to

take up on the death of Sir C. Douglas. Absolutely disinterested, his

energies wholly devoted to the service of the State, compelling the

respect, indeed the affection, of all of us who were under him in

those troublous times, a more considerate chief, nor one whose opinion

when you put a point to him you could accept with more implicit

confidence, it would have been impossible to find. But for occupying

the headship of the General Staff under the existing circumstances he

lacked certain desirable qualifications. Although well acquainted with

the principles that should govern the general conduct of war and no

mean judge of such questions, he was not disposed by instinct to

interest himself in the broader aspects of strategy and of military

policy. His bent was rather to concern himself with the details.

Somewhat cautious, nay diffident, by nature, he moreover shrank from

pressing his views, worthy of all respect as they were, on others, and

he was always guarded in expressing them even when invited to do so.

Dealing with a Secretary of State of Lord Kitchener's temperament,

reticence of this kind did not work. Lord K. liked you to say what you

thought without hesitation, and, once he knew you, he never resented

your giving an opinion even uninvited if you did so tactfully. As for

the personnel who constitute War Councils and their like, it is not

the habit of the politician to hide his light under a bushel, nor to

recoil from laying down the law about any matter with which he has a

bowing acquaintance. That an expert should sit mute when his own

subject is in debate, surprises your statesman profoundly. That the

expert should not be brimming over with a didactic and confident flow

of words when he has been invited to promulgate his views, confounds

your statesman altogether. General Wolfe-Murray never seemed to

succeed in getting on quite the proper terms either with his immediate

superior, the War Minister, or yet with the members of the Government

included in the War Council and the Dardanelles Committee; and it was

cruel luck that, with so fine a record in almost all parts of the

world to look back upon, this most meritorious public servant should

towards the close of his career have found himself unwillingly thrust

into a position for which, as he foresaw himself when he assumed it,

he was not altogether well suited.

Subsequent to returning from Russia, and very shortly after the loss

of the _Hampshire_ with Lord Kitchener and his party, I came to be for

some weeks unemployed, afterwards taking up a fresh appointment--one

in connection with Russian supplies, which later developed into one

covering supplies for all the Allies and to which reference will be

made in a special chapter. But the result was that, as a retired

officer, I ceased for the time being to be on the active list and

became a gentleman at large. Thereby hangs a tale; because it was just

at this juncture that I was asked by the Army Council to go into the

question of papers which were to be presented to the House of Commons

in connection with the Dardanelles Campaign. Badgered by inquisitive

members of that assembly, Mr. Asquith had committed himself to the

production of papers; and Mr. Churchill had got together a dossier

dealing with his share in the affair, which was sent to me to

consider, together with all the telegrams, and so forth, that bore on

the operations and their prologue.

On examining all this stuff, it soon became manifest that the

publication of any papers at all during the war, in connection with

this controversial subject, was to be deprecated. Still, one

recognized that the Prime Minister's promise had to be fulfilled

somehow; so the great object to be kept in view seemed to be to keep

publication within the narrowest possible limits compatible with

satisfying the curiosity of the people in Parliament. As a matter of

fact, there were passages in some of the documents which Mr. Churchill

proposed for production that must obviously be expunged, in view of

Allies' susceptibilities and of their conveying information which

might still be of value to the enemy. There could be no question that,

no matter how drastic might be the cutting-down process, the

Admiralty, the War Office and the Government would come badly out of

the business. Furthermore, any publication of papers must make known

to the world that Lord Kitchener's judgement in connection with this

particular phase of the war had been somewhat at fault.

When asking me to take the matter up, the Army Council had probably

overlooked my civilian status or forgotten what a strong position this

placed me in. An ex-soldier does not often get an opportunity of

enjoying an official heart-to-heart talk, on paper, with the

powers-that-be in the War Office. My report was to the effect that it

was undesirable to produce any papers at all during the war, but that,

as some had to be produced, they ought to be cut down to a minimum,

that everybody official concerned in the business at home would be

more or less shown up, that this was particularly unfortunate just at

this time in view of Lord Kitchener's lamented death, that the papers

must be limited to those bearing upon the period antecedent to the

actual landing of the army in the Gallipoli Peninsula, that if this

last proviso was accepted I would go fully into the question and

report in detail, and that if the proviso was not accepted I declined

to act and they might all go to the--well, one did not quite put it in

those words, but they would take it that way. The result was not quite

what one had either expected or desired. The production-of-papers

project was dropped, and the Dardanelles Commission was appointed

instead.

Mr. Lloyd George had become Secretary of State for War by this time.

He was full of zeal and of original ideas, nor had he any intention

of being merely a "passenger." He had, after the manner of new War

Ministers, introduced a fresh personal entourage into the place, and a

momentary panic, caused by the news that telephonic communications

into and out of the place were passing in an unknown guttural language

not wholly unlike German, was only allayed on its being ascertained

that certain of his hangers-on conversed over the wires in Welsh.

Besides being full of original ideas, the new Secretary of State was

in a somewhat restless mood. He took so keen an interest in some

wonderful scheme in connection with Russian railways (about which I

was freely consulted) that he evidently was hankering after going on a

mission to that part of the world himself. He no doubt believed that a

visit from him would be an equivalent for the visit by Lord Kitchener

which had been interrupted so tragically. To anybody who had recently

been to Russia, such an idea was preposterous. Few who counted in the

Tsar's dominions had ever heard of the Right Honourable Gentleman at

this time; Lord Kitchener's name, on the other hand, had been known,

and his personality had counted as an asset (as I knew from my own

experience), from Tornea on the Lappland borders to the highlands of

Erzerum. The project did not strike one as deserving encouragement,

and I did what I could to damp it down unobtrusively.

It was nearly a year later than this, in the summer of 1917, that,

owing to the horse of General Whigham, the Deputy C.I.G.S., slipping

up with him near the Marble Arch and giving him a nasty fall, he

became incapacitated for a month. Sir W. Robertson thereupon called me

in to act as _locum tenens_. From many points of view this proved to

be a particularly edifying and instructive experience. One could not

fail to be impressed with the smoothness with which the military side

of the War Office was working under the system which Sir William had

introduced, and one furthermore found oneself behind the scenes in

respect to the progress of the war and to numbers of matters only

known to the very few.

The plan under which nearly all routine work in connection with the

General Staff, work that the C.I.G.S. would otherwise be obliged to

concern himself with personally to a large extent, was delegated to a

Deputy who was a Member of the Army Council was an admirable

arrangement. It worked almost to perfection as far as I could see. It

allowed Sir W. Robertson, in consultation with his Directors of

Military Operations and of Intelligence, Generals Maurice and

Macdonogh, to devote his attention to major questions embracing the

conduct of the war on land as a whole. The Deputy in the meantime

wrestled with the details, with the correspondence about points of

secondary importance, in fact with the red tape if you like to call it

that, while keeping in close and constant touch with the

administrative departments and branches. Everybody advocates

de-centralization in theory; Sir William actually carried it out in

practice, reminding me of that Prince of military administrators, the

late Sir H. Brackenbury. The Deputy's room opened off that of the

C.I.G.S.; but on many days I never even saw him except when he looked

in for a minute to ask if I had anything for him, or when I happened

to walk home some part of the way to York House with him after the

trouble was over for the day.

It was intensely interesting to have the daily reports of casualties

at the Western Front passing through one's hands, and to note the

extent to which these mounted up on what might be called non-fighting

days as compared to days of attack. As this was during the opening

stages of the Flanders offensive subsequent to General Plumer's

victory at Messines, these statistics were extremely instructive. I do

not know whether the details have ever been worked out for the years

1915-17, but it looked to me at that time as if the losses in three

weeks of ordinary trench-warfare came on the average to about the same

total as did the losses in a regular formal assault of some section

of the enemy's lines. Or, putting the thing in another form and

supposing the above calculation to be correct, you would in three

weeks of continuous attack in a given zone only lose the same number

of men as you would lose in that same zone in a year of stagnant,

unprofitable trench-warfare. Some of our offensives on the Western

Front have been condemned on the grounds of their costliness in human

life; but it has not been sufficiently realized in the country how

heavy the losses were during periods of quiescence.

As acting D.C.I.G.S. one, moreover, enjoyed opportunities of examining

the various compiled statements showing the numbers of our forces in

the various theatres, with full information as to the strength of our

Allies' armies in all quarters, as well as the carefully prepared

estimates of the enemy's fighting resources as these were arrived at

by our Intelligence organizations in consultation with those of the

French, Italians, Belgians, and others. One learnt the full details of

our "order of battle" for the time being, exactly where the different

divisions, army corps, etc., were located, and who commanded them. It

transpired that the Entente host on the Salonika Front at this time

comprised no fewer than 655,000 of all ranks, without counting in the

Serbs who would have brought the total up to about 800,000, while the

enemy forces opposed to them were calculated to muster only about

450,000; the situation was, in fact, much worse than one had imagined.

One discovered that, while slightly over 17 per cent of the male

population of Great Britain had been enrolled as soldiers, only 5 per

cent of the Irish male population had come forward, and that but for

north-east Ulster the figure would not have reached 3 per cent. One

became aware, moreover, that the Army Council, or at least its

Military Members, were at loggerheads with the War Cabinet over the

problem of man-power, and that this question was from the military

point of view giving grounds for grave anxiety.

In one of my drawers there was the first draft of a [p.144] secret paper on

this subject, which expressed the views of the Military Members of the

Council in blunt terms, and which amounted in reality to a crushing

indictment of the Prime Minister and his Cabinet. I have a copy of the

draft in my possession, but as it was a secret document it would be

improper to give details of its contents; it, moreover, was somewhat

modified and mellowed in certain particulars before the paper was

actually sent to Downing Street. The final discussion took place at a

full meeting of the Army Council while I was acting as D.C.I.G.S., but

which I did not attend as not being a statutory member of that body.

Parliament ought to call for this paper; it was presented in July

1917; it practically foreshadowed what actually occurred in March

1918. The Military Members of the Council nearly resigned in a body

over this business; but they were not unanimous on the question of

resignation, although perfectly unanimous as regards the seriousness

of the position. It may be mentioned that at a considerably later date

the Army Council did, including its civilian members, threaten

resignation as a body when Sir N. Macready gave up the position of

Adjutant-General to become Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police,

owing to an attempt made from Downing Street to civilianize the

Adjutant-General's department. The Army Council beat Downing Street,

hands down.

The disquieting conditions in respect to man-power were, incidentally,

hampering the development of two important combatant branches at this

time, the Machine-Gun Corps and the Tank Corps. The heavy demands of

these two branches, coupled with the fact that infantry wastage was

practically exceeding the intake of recruits, threatened a gradual

disappearance of the principal arm of the Service. We had by this time

got long past the stage with which, when D.M.O., I had been familiar,

where lack of material and munitions was checking the growth of our

armies in the field. We had arrived at the stage where material and

munitions were ample, but where it was becoming very difficult to

maintain our armies in the field from lack of personnel--a state of

things directly attributable to the Government's opportunist,

hand-to-mouth policy in the matter, and to their disinclination to

insist upon practically the whole of the younger categories of male

adults joining the colours. The organization of the Tank Corps was

finally decided actually while I was acting as D.C.I.G.S. In so far as

the general control of Tank design and the numbers of these engines of

war to be turned out was concerned, it seemed to me to be a case of

"pull devil, pull baker" between the military and the civilians as to

how far these matters were to be left entirely to the technicalist;

but the technicalist was not perhaps getting quite so much to say in

the matter as was reasonable. The personal factor maybe entered into

the question.

When the War Office had been reconstituted by the Esher Committee in

1904, the Admiralty organization had been to a great extent taken as a

model for the Army Council arrangement which the triumvirate then

introduced. Thirteen years later the Admiralty was reorganized, and on

this occasion the War Office system of 1904, as modified and developed

in the light of experience in peace and in war, was taken as the model

for the rival institution. Whigham had played a part in the carrying

out of this important reform, lending his advice to the sailors and

explaining the distribution of duties amongst the higher professional

authorities on our side of Whitehall, especially in connection with

the General Staff. The most urgently needed alteration to be sought

after was the relieving of the First Sea Lord of a multitude of duties

which were quite incompatible with his giving full attention to really

vital questions in connection with employing the Royal Navy. For years

past he had been a sort of Pooh Bah, holding a position in some

respects analogous to that occupied by Lord Wolseley and Lord Roberts

when they had been nominally "Commander-in-chief" of the army. Under

the arrangements made with the assistance of the War Office in 1917,

a post somewhat analogous to that of D.C.I.G.S. was set up at the

Admiralty, and the First Sea Lord was thenceforward enabled to see to

the things that really mattered as he never had been before. Although

the amount of current work to be got through daily when acting as

Deputy C.I.G.S. proved heavy enough during the month when I was _locum

tenens_, it was not so heavy as to preclude my looking through the

instructive documents dealing with this matter amongst Whigham's

papers.

The glorious uncertainty of cricket is acknowledged to be one of the

main attractions of our national game. But the glorious uncertainty of

cricket is as nothing compared to the glorious uncertainty which

obtains in time of war as to what silly thing H.M. Government--or some

of its shining lights--will be wanting to do next. At this time the

War Cabinet, or perhaps one ought rather to say certain members of

that body, had got it into their heads that to send round a lot of Sir

Douglas Haig's troops (who were pretty well occupied as it was) to the

Isonzo Front would be a capital plan, the idea being to catch the

Central Powers no end of a "biff" in this particular quarter. That

fairly banged Banagher. For sheer fatuity it was the absolute limit.

Ever since the era of Hannibal, if not indeed since even earlier

epochs, trampling, hope-bestirred armies have from generation to

generation been bursting forth like a pent-up torrent from that broad

zone of tumbled Alpine peaks which overshadows Piedmont, Lombardy and

Venetia, to flood their smiling plains with hosts of fighting men. Who

ever heard of an army bursting in the opposite direction? Napoleon

tried it, and rugged, thrusting Suvorof; but they did not get much

change out of it. The mountain region has invariably either been in

possession of the conquerors at the start, or else it has been

acquired by deliberate, protracted process during the course of a

lengthy struggle, before the dramatic coup has been delivered by which

the levels have been won. The wide belt of highlands extending from

Switzerland to Croatia remained in the enemy's hands up to the time of

the final collapse of the Dual Monarchy subsequent to the rout of the

Emperor Francis' legions on the Piave. The Italians had in the summer

of 1917 for two years been striving to force their way into these

mountain fastnesses, and they had progressed but a very few miles.

They had not only been fighting the soldiery of the Central Powers,

but had also been fighting Nature. Nature often proves a yet more

formidable foe than do swarms of warriors, even supposing these to be

furnished with all modern requirements for prosecuting operations in

the field.

Roads are inevitably few and far between in a mountainous region. In

such terrain, roads and railways can be destroyed particularly easily

and particularly effectively by a retiring host. In this kind of

theatre, troops can only quit the main lines of communications with

difficulty, and localities abound where a very inferior force will for

a long time stay the advance of much more imposing columns. You can no

more cram above a given number of men on to a certain stretch of road

when on the move, than you can get a quart into a pint pot. Even if

your enemy simply falls back without fighting, destroying all

viaducts, tunnels, embankments, culverts, and so forth, your army will

take a long time to traverse the highlands--unless it be an uncommonly

small one. Armies in these days are inevitably of somewhat bloated

dimensions if they are to do any good. Theatrical strategy of the

flags-on-the-map order is consequently rather at a discount in an

arena such as the War Cabinet, or some members of that body, proposed

to exploit. Even had there been no other obvious objections to a

diversion of force such as they contemplated, the project ignored

certain elementary aspects of the conduct of warlike operations which

might be summed up in the simple expression "common-sense."

But there were other obvious objections. To switch any force worth

bothering about from northern France to the Friuli flats was bound to

be a protracted process, because only two railways led over the Alps

from Dauphiné and Provence into the basin of the Po; and those lines

were distinguished for their severe gradients. It was, as a matter of

fact, incomparably easier for the enemy to mass reinforcements in the

Julian Alps than it was for the two Western Powers to mass

reinforcements in the low ground facing that great area of rugged

hills. The question of a transfer of six divisions from the Western

Front to Venetia had, however, been gone into very thoroughly by the

General Staff in view of conceivable eventualities. An elaborate

scheme had been drawn up by experienced officers, who had examined the

question in consultation with the Italian military authorities, and

had traversed the communications that would have to be brought into

play were such a move to be carried out. What time the transfer would

take was a matter of calculation based on close examination of the

details. The final report came to hand while I was acting as Deputy

C.I.G.S., although its general purport had already been communicated

several weeks before. Two or three months later, when it suddenly

became necessary to rush British and French troops round from northern

France to the eastern portions of the Po basin after the singular

_débâcle_ of Caporetto, actual experience proved the forecasts made in

this report to have been quite correct. There was not much "rushing"

about the move. It took weeks to complete.

General Pershing and his staff arrived in England just at this time,

and I enjoyed the pleasure of meeting them and discussing many

matters. The attitude of these distinguished soldiers, one and all,

impressed us most agreeably. One had heard something about "Yankee

bounce" in the past, which exists no doubt amongst some of the

citizens of the great Republic across the water. But here we found a

body of officers who, while manifestly knowing uncommonly well what

they were about, were bent on learning from us everything that they

possibly could, and who from the outset proved themselves singularly

ready to fall in with our methods of doing business even where those

methods differed widely from what they had been accustomed to.

Some weeks later (in the capacity of War Office representative) I

accompanied Lord Jellicoe and Admiral Sims, together with Sir I.

Malcolm and Sir W. Wiseman of the Foreign Office, to Devonport to meet

a large party of high officials from the United States who were coming

over to Europe to take general charge of things in connection with the

American share in the war. It was headed by Colonel House, and

included the Chiefs of the Naval and Military Staffs with their

assistants, as well as financial and other delegates. We arrived some

time before the two cruisers conveying the party were due, so we

proceeded to Admiralty House. While waiting there, one was afforded a

most welcome opportunity of learning something about how the strings

were being pulled over the great water-area which was under special

charge of the local commander-in-chief. The whole thing was set out on

a huge fixed map covering, I think, the billiard-table. On it were

shown where the various convoys were at the moment, the minefields,

the positions where German U-boats had recently been located, and

numberless other important details. To a landsman it was absorbingly

interesting to have all this explained, just as it had been

interesting, a few days before, to visit General Ashmore's office at

the Horse Guards and to learn on the map how the London anti-aircraft

defences were controlled during an attack.

Just about dusk the two cruisers were descried coming in past the

breakwater, so it became a question of getting to the Keyham dockyard

where they were to fetch up. Ever keen for exercise in any form, Lord

Jellicoe decided to walk, and the commander-in-chief went with him.

Knowing the distance and the somewhat unattractive approaches leading

to the Keyham naval establishments, and as it, moreover, looked and

felt uncommonly like rain, I preferred to wait and to proceed in due

course by car, as did all the rest of our party. The flag-lieutenant

and the naval officer who had come down with Lord Jellicoe from the

Admiralty likewise thought that a motor was good enough for them. By

the time that the automobile party reached the dockyard it was pitch

dark and pouring rain, and the cruisers were already reported as

practically alongside; but to our consternation there was no sign of

the two flag-officers. Now, a dog who has lost his master is an

unperturbed, torpid, contented creature compared with a

flag-lieutenant who has lost his admiral, and there was a terrible

to-do. All the telephones were buzzing and ringing, the dockyard

police were eagerly interrogated, and there was already talk of

despatching search-parties, when the two distinguished truants

suddenly turned up, exceedingly hot, decidedly wet, and, if the truth

must be told, looking a little muddy and bedraggled. However, there

was no time to be lost, and we all rushed off into the night heading

for where the vessels were to berth. How we did not break our necks

tumbling into a dry-dock or find a watery grave tumbling into a wet

one, I do not know. We certainly most of us barked our shins against

anchors, chains, bollards, and every sort of pernicious litter such as

the sister service loves to fondle, and the language would have been

atrocious had we not been out of breath--the Foreign Office indeed

contrived to be explosive even as it was. However, we managed to reach

the jetty after all just as the two big warships had been warped

alongside, winning by a nose. So all was well.

Colonel House and his party had not been fortunate in their weather

during the crossing, and they had come to the conclusion that a

fighting ship represented an overrated form of ocean liner. More than

one of the soldiers and civilians confided to me that if there was no

other way of getting across the herring-pond on the way back than by

cruiser, they would stop this side. They were all quite pleased to

find themselves on dry land, and during the journey up to town by

special there was plenty of time to make acquaintance and to discuss

general questions. One point was made plain. Mr. Balfour's recently

concluded mission to the United States had been a tremendous success.

Junior officers who had not met him spoke of him almost with bated

breath, and a hint that he might be at the terminus to greet the party

caused unbounded satisfaction. When we steamed into Paddington about 1

o'clock A.M. and his tall figure was descried on the platform, the

whole crowd burst out of the train in a disorderly swarm, jostling

each other in trying to get near him and have a chance of shaking his

hand; it was quite a business getting them sorted and under control

again so as to start them off in the waiting cars to Claridge's. We do

not always send the right man as envoy to foreign parts, but we had

managed it that time.

CHAPTER VIII

THE NEAR EAST

The first talk about Salonika -- The railway and the port -- The

question of operations based on Macedonia at the end of 1914 --

Failure of "easterners" to realize that the Western Front was

Germany's weakest front -- Question whether it might not have

been better to go to Salonika than to go to the Dardanelles --

Objections to such a plan -- The problem of Bulgaria --

Consequences of the Russian _débâcle_ -- Difficulty of the Near

Eastern problem in the early summer -- An example of how the

Dardanelles Committee approached it -- Awkwardness of the problem

after the failure of Sir I. Hamilton's August offensive -- The

Bulgarian attitude -- Entente's objection to Serbia attacking

Bulgaria -- I am ordered to Salonika, but order countermanded --

The disaster to Serbia -- Hard to say what ought to have been

done -- Real mistake, the failure to abandon the Dardanelles

enterprise in May -- The French attitude about Salonika --

General Sarrail -- French General Staff impressed with War Office

information concerning Macedonia -- Unsatisfactory situation at

the end of 1915 -- The Salonika business a blunder all through --

Eventual success does not alter this.

"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed nought

else," Rudyard Kipling's old soldier sings, mindful of spacious days

along the road to Mandalay. The worst of the East, however, is that

people hear it calling who have never been there in their lives. That

there were individuals in high places who were subject to this

mysterious influence, became apparent at a comparatively early stage

of the World War.

The first occasion on which, apart from a few outpost affairs over the

Dardanelles with Mr. Churchill to which reference has already been

made, "easternism" (as it came to be called later) raised its head to

my knowledge to any alarming extent, was when Colonel Hankey asked me,

one day early in December 1914, to go across to Treasury Buildings to

meet Sir E. Grey and Mr. Lloyd George. There is not a more depressing

structure in existence than Treasury Buildings. The arrangement of the

interior is a miracle of inconvenience, on the most cloudless of days

its apartments are wrapped in gloom, and no decorator has been

permitted to pass its portals since it was declared fit for occupation

in some forgotten age. But Mr. Lloyd George, who was Chancellor of the

Exchequer at this time, is ever like a ray of sunshine illumining

otherwise dark places, and on this occasion he was at his very

brightest. He had made a discovery. He had found on a map that there

was quite a big place--it was shown in block capitals--called

Salonika, tucked away in a corner of the Balkans right down by the

sea. The map furthermore indicated by means of an interminable

centipede that a railway led from this place Salonika right away up

into Serbia, and on from thence towards the very heart of the Dual

Monarchy. Here was a chance of starting an absolutely new hare. The

Chancellor, _allegro con fuoco_, was in a buoyant mood, as was indeed

only to be expected under such circumstances, and he was geniality

itself when I appeared in the apartment where Sir E. Grey and Hankey

were awaiting me together with himself. We should be able to deal the

enemy a blow from an entirely unexpected direction, the days of

stalemate in the half-frozen morasses of Flanders would be at an end,

we would carry the Balkans with us, it would be absolutely top-hole.

Although obviously interested--it could hardly be otherwise when the

words "Near East" were mentioned--the Foreign Secretary was careful

not to give himself away. You have to make a practice of that when you

are Foreign Secretary.

Now, it so happened that I had been at Salonika more than once, and

also that I had travelled along this very railway more than once and

had carefully noted matters in connection with it so long as daylight

served. Much more important than that, there were in the archives of

my branch at the War Office very elaborate reports on the railway,

and there was moreover full information as to the capabilities and the

incapabilities of the port of Salonika for the discharge of what was

animate and what was inanimate. It was a case of an extensive haven

that provided shelter in all weathers for ocean-going ships, but

possessing most indifferent facilities for landing merchandise, or

animals, or persons, considering the importance of the site. And it

was, moreover, a case of one single line of railway meandering up a

trough-like valley which at some points narrowed into a defile, a

railway of severe gradients with few passing stations, a railway which

assuredly would be very short of rolling stock--although this latter

disability could no doubt be overcome easily enough. One somehow did

not quite picture to oneself an army of many divisions comfortably

advancing from Belgrade on Vienna based on Salonika, and depending

upon the Salonika-Belgrade railway for its food, for its munitions,

and for its own means of transit from the Mediterranean to its

launching place. Besides, there were no reserves of troops ready to

hand for projecting into the Balkans at this juncture. Only a very few

weeks had passed since those days of peril when Sir J. French and the

"Old Contemptibles" had, thanks to resolute leadership and to a

splendid heroism on the part of regimental officers and rank-and-file,

just managed to bring the German multitudes up short as these were

surging towards the Channel Ports. Fancy stunts seemed to be at a

discount at the moment, and I found it hard to be encouraging.

Some statesmen are ever, unconsciously perhaps but none the less

instinctively, gravitating towards the line of least resistance, or

towards what they imagine to be the line of least resistance. This,

peradventure, accounts to some extent for the singular attraction

which operations in the Near East, or Palestine, or anywhere other

than on the Western Front, always seemed to present to certain highly

placed men of affairs. The idea that the actual strategical position

in those somewhat remote regions was such as to constitute any one of

them the line of least resistance from the Entente point of view, was

based on a complete misreading of the military situation. That theory

was founded on the fallacy that the Western Front represented the

enemy's strongest point. It was, on the contrary, the enemy's weakest

point, because this front was from its geographical position the one

where British and French troops could most easily be assembled, and it

was the one on which a serious defeat to the enemy necessarily

threatened that enemy with a grave, if not an irretrievable, disaster.

It is true that for the comparatively short period during which Russia

really counted, that is to say during the early months before Russian

munitions gave out, the Eastern Front--the Poland Front--was a weak

point for the Germans. But the Russian bubble had been pricked in the

eyes of those behind the scenes long before the great advance of the

German and Austro-Hungarian armies over the Vistula and into the heart

of the Tsar's dominions began in the early summer of 1915.

Scarcely had the Salonika venture been mooted than the Dardanelles

venture cropped up and was actually embarked on; so that for the nonce

the advocates of an advance through Serbia--I am not sure that there

was more than one at the time--abandoned that project. But although

the Serbs had succeeded early in the winter of 1914-15 in driving the

Austro-Hungarian invading columns ignominiously back over the Save and

the Danube, the position of this isolated Ally of ours was giving

grounds for anxiety from an early period in 1915, and it always

presented a serious problem for the Entente. Colonel Basil Buckley, my

right-hand man with regard to the Near East, had it constantly in

mind.

It is always easy to be wise after the event; what in the world would

become of the noble army of critics if it were not so? Still, looking

back in the light of the sequel upon the political and strategical

situation that existed in the Near East early in 1915, it does look as

if the right course for the Western Powers to have adopted then (so

soon as there were troops available for another theatre without

hopelessly queering the Entente pitch on the Western Front) would have

been to use those troops for lending Serbia a hand instead of

despatching them to the Dardanelles. Even a weaker force than that

with which Sir I. Hamilton embarked on the Gallipoli venture

(nominally five Anglo-Australasian and two French divisions) would

have proved an invaluable moral, and an effective actual, support to

the Serbs; and its arrival on the Morava and the Save could hardly

have failed to influence to some extent the attitude of Bulgaria and

Roumania, and assuredly would have caused the Austro-Hungarian

monarchy some heart-burnings. It has been said that M. Briand (who did

not assume the premiership in France until a somewhat later date)

advocated the despatch of Entente troops to Serbia in the spring of

1915, and that the question was discussed between the British and

French Governments; but I know nothing of this, only having come to be

behind the scenes of the Near Eastern drama at a somewhat later date.

Objections to such a course undoubtedly existed, even leaving out of

account the fact that our Government was, with the approval of that of

Paris, committing itself at the time more and more definitely to the

Hellespont-Bosphorus-Black Sea project. In the first place, Salonika

happened to be in the hands of neutral Greece, although that

difficulty would probably have been got over readily enough then. In

the second place, the despatch of a Franco-British force to Serbia in

the spring would have been playing the enemy's game to the extent of

virtually tying up that force and of condemning it to inactivity for

the time being, so as to provide against a danger--hostile attack on

Serbia--which might never materialize, and which actually did not

materialize until the autumn. In the third place, there was always,

with amateur strategists about, the grave risk that a measure taken

with the object of safeguarding Serbia as far as possible, might

translate itself into a great offensive operation against the Central

Powers from the south, absorbing huge Anglo-French forces, conducted

under great difficulties in respect to communications with the sea,

and playing into the hands of the German Great General Staff by

enabling that wide-awake body to make the very fullest use of its

strategical assets in respect to "interior lines." Finally, we could

not depend upon Bulgaria siding with the Entente, nor even Roumania;

and although Italy would certainly not take up arms against us she had

not yet declared herself an Ally.

The above reference to Bulgaria introduces a question which added

greatly to the perplexities of the Near Eastern problem then and

afterwards, perplexities that were aggravated by the well-founded

suspicion with which Bulgaria's monarch was on all hands regarded. The

Bulgars coveted Macedonia. But the greater part of Macedonia happened

as a result of the Balkan upheavals of 1912 and 1913 to belong to

Serbia, and the rest of it belonged to Greece. Into the ethnographical

aspect of the Macedonian problem it is not necessary to enter here.

The cardinal fact remained that Bulgaria wanted, and practically

demanded, this region. While we might have been ready enough to give

away Greek territory which did not belong to us, we really could not

give away Serbian territory which did not belong to us seeing that

Serbia was an Ally actually embattled on our side and with a

victorious campaign already to her credit. Macedonia at a later date

upset the applecart.

Things were already from our point of view in something of a tangle in

the Balkans by the vernal equinox of 1915; but they had got into much

more of a tangle by the time that spring was merging into summer. At

that stage, the failure of our naval effort against the Dardanelles

had been followed by our military effort coming to a disconcerting

standstill, and the Bulgarian and Greek Governments in common with

their military authorities made up their minds that the operation

against the Straits was doomed. That was bad enough in all conscience,

but worse was to follow. Because then the Russian bubble was suddenly,

dramatically, and publicly pricked, the Tsar's stubborn soldiery,

without ammunition and almost without weapons, could not even maintain

themselves against the Austro-Hungarian forces, much less against the

formidable German hosts that were suddenly turned loose upon them, and

within the space of a very few weeks the situation on the Eastern

Front, which at least in appearance had been favourable enough during

the winter and the early spring, suddenly became transformed into one

of profoundest gloom from the Entente point of view. Even a much less

unpromising diplomatic situation than that which had existed in the

Balkans between December and May was bound to become an untoward one

under such conditions. Our side had come to be looked upon as the

losing side. No amount of skill on the part of our Foreign Office nor

of the Quai d'Orsay could compensate for the logic of disastrous

facts. The performances of H.M. Government in connection with Bulgaria

and Greece at this time have been the subject of much acid criticism.

But in time of war it is the victorious battalions that count, not the

wiles of a Talleyrand nor of a Great Elchi. The failure in the

Dardanelles and the Russian collapse settled our hash in the Near East

for the time being, and no amount of diplomatic juggling could have

effectually repaired the mischief.

Exactly what line the General Staff would have taken up had they been

called upon, say at the beginning of July, to give a considered

opinion in the form of a carefully prepared memorandum as to the

course that ought to be followed in connection with the Dardanelles

and Serbia, it is hard to say. That there was considerable risk of

Serbia being assailed in force by the Central Powers before long was

manifest. On the other hand, there we were, up to the neck in the

Dardanelles venture, and strong reinforcements were at this time

belatedly on their way out to Sir I. Hamilton from home. The position

was a decidedly awkward one. To despatch further contingents to this

part of the world, over and above those already on the way or under

orders, was virtually out of the question, unless the Near East was to

be accepted as the Entente's main theatre of war--which way madness

lay. To divert the Dardanelles reinforcements to Salonika destroyed

such hopes as remained of the Gallipoli campaign proving a success

after all. Human nature being what it is, there would have been a sore

temptation to adopt the attitude of "wait and see" which might perhaps

have commended itself to Mr. Asquith, to let things take their course,

to be governed by how Sir I. Hamilton's contemplated offensive panned

out, and to trust to a decision in that quarter taking place before

isolated Serbia should actually be imperilled. But in those days the

General Staff never was asked to give a considered opinion. At the

Dardanelles Committee which had all these matters in hand, one seldom,

if ever, was given an opportunity of expressing views on the broader

aspects of any question. The methods in vogue on the part of that body

are indeed well illustrated by the following incident.

One evening in August, about 7 P.M., just when I was getting to the

end of my work for the day, Colonel Swinton, who for many months past

had been acting as "Eye-Witness" with Sir J. French's forces, turned

up unexpectedly in my room. My pleasure at meeting an old friend,

recently from the hub of things in France and whom I had not seen for

a long time, gave place to resentment when he explained what he had

come for. It appeared that he had a short time previously arrived in

the United Kingdom to act temporarily as Secretary of the Committee of

Imperial Defence (which practically meant the Dardanelles Committee at

the moment), and he had been called upon, right off the reel, to

prepare a memorandum on the Dardanelles situation, which was to be

ready next morning. Knowing comparatively little about the

Dardanelles, he had come to consult me. In the first instance I

absolutely declined to oblige. I had no authority from Lord K. or the

C.I.G.S. to express views on this subject on paper for the benefit of

the Committee. Furthermore--and perhaps this weighed more heavily in

the scale than did official considerations--I was "fed up." One

generally was by 7 P.M. at the War Office. The very idea of starting

at this hour upon a memorandum about anything, let alone the

Dardanelles, was infuriating.

Swinton, however, eventually prevailed upon me to lend a hand on the

distinct understanding, pressed for by me, that it remained a hidden

hand. After all, this intrusion of his did provide some sort of

opportunity for putting the situation plainly before the Committee,

and for expressing a vertebrate opinion. We proceeded to the club and

dined together, and thereafter, refreshed and my equanimity restored

by a rest and hearing the news from across the water, we grappled with

the subject in the C.I.D. office. "Ole Luke Oie" could be trusted to

put a thing tersely and with vigour once he knew what to say, and the

document did not take long to draft. We took the line that in the

Gallipoli Peninsula it was a case of getting on or of getting out. The

core of this memorandum is quoted in the "Final Report" of the

Dardanelles Commission, where it is pointed out that no mention is

made of a middle course. That was intentional. A middle course was

regarded by us as wholly unjustifiable, although it was the one which

the Dardanelles Committee adopted; for that body did not take our

advice--it neither got on nor got out.

The situation in the Near East as a whole became a more anxious one

than ever after the failure of Sir I. Hamilton's August offensive,

because by this time Russia's collapse was complete, and the legions

of the Central Powers which had been flooding Poland, Grodno and

Volhynia, impeded by sparsity of communications rather than by the

resistance of the Grand Duke Nicholas's ammunitionless army, had

become available for operations in a new direction. The portents all

pointed to an attack upon Serbia. If Serbia was to receive effective

aid at the hands of the Western Powers, that aid must be well in

motion before the enemy hosts should gather on the northern and

western frontiers of our threatened Ally, otherwise the aid would

assuredly be late owing to the difficulty of moving troops rapidly

from board ship in Salonika roads, up to the theatre of operations.

Hopes still existed, on the other hand, at least in the minds of some

of the members of the Dardanelles Committee, that by sending

additional reinforcements to Sir I. Hamilton a success might be

obtained even yet in that quarter. The French for a week or two

contemplated despatching four divisions which were to operate on the

Asiatic side of the Hellespont; but the situation on the Western Front

put an end to this design. There were two stools, the Dardanelles and

Salonika, and among us we contrived to sit down between them. For

while all this was in debate the danger to Serbia grew apace, and

intelligence sources of information now made it certain that the

German Great General Staff had not only planned, but had already made

nearly all the preparations for, a great stroke in the direction of

the western Balkans.

In this distressing state of affairs Bulgaria was always the uncertain

factor. Her attitude could not be gauged with certainty, but it was

extremely suspicious throughout. A pro-Bulgar element had for some

months been listened to by our Foreign Office with greater respect

than it deserved, although nobody, pro-Bulgar or anti-Bulgar,

entertained any trust in Tsar Ferdinand's integrity. Had Serbia even

at this late hour been willing to relinquish Macedonia, it is

conceivable that Bulgaria might have remained neutral, and that

Ferdinand might have broken such engagements as he had secretly

entered into with the Central Powers. But utter distrust and bitter

hatred of Bulgaria prevailed in Serbia. Our Ally perhaps hardly

sufficiently realized that national aspirations ought rather to

direct themselves towards the Adriatic and the regions inhabited by

Serb stock under Austro-Hungarian rule, than towards districts peopled

by mixed races on the shores of the Aegean. Be that as it may, the

idea of delivering up Macedonia to the traditional Eastern enemy was

scouted at Belgrade. We hoped that at the worst Greece would, in

accordance with treaty obligations, take sides with Serbia should

Bulgaria throw in her lot with the Central Powers against the Serbs.

Then came the attack of the German and Austro-Hungarian forces,

synchronizing with the mobilization of the Bulgarian army.

The Nish Government--Belgrade had been quitted by this

time--entertained no illusions whatever regarding Bulgarian

intentions, and wished to assume the offensive promptly eastwards

while this very suspicious mobilization was still in progress. Our

Government--I am not sure what attitude the French, Russian, and

Italian Governments took up--realized that Serbia's seizing the

initiative put an end to all hopes of Greece lending a hand, and they

virtually vetoed the project, as has already been mentioned in Chapter

IV. That, as it turned out, was an unfortunate decision, because it

fatally injured the Serbian prospects of preventing their territory

being overrun before the French and we could intervene effectively,

while it did not secure Greek adhesion. We virtually staked on King

Constantine, and we found too late that our King was a Knave.

Just at this awkward juncture Lord Kitchener instructed me to be

prepared to proceed to Salonika, and all the necessary steps for

starting on the journey were promptly taken; but it was not clear what

capacity I was going in. It seemed a mistake, although one was

naturally heartened at the prospect of activities in a new sphere,

even if these were only to be of a temporary character. But, as it

turned out, the Dardanelles Committee (or the War Council, I am not

sure of the exact date when the Dardanelles Committee deceased)

intervened, wishing me to remain at my post. In view of what

followed, one was well out of intimate contact with the Macedonian

imbroglio on the spot, because, as everybody knows now, the

Franco-British forces arrived too late to save Serbia from reverses

which amounted to an almost overwhelming disaster at the hands of the

great hosts which the Central Powers and Bulgaria threw into the

scale.

We and the French had, judged by results, made a hideous mess of

things between us. The Allies were late at a critical juncture--and in

war that is the unpardonable sin. Sir E. Carson, who had for a brief

period proved himself a tower of strength on the Dardanelles

Committee, resigned from the Cabinet in disgust. Lord Milner,

independent man of affairs at the time, spoke out strongly on the

subject in the House of Lords. But although the opinion of either of

them is well worth having on most questions, and although both know

their own minds, I doubt whether they, either of them, had any clear

idea then as to what ought to have been done to avert the catastrophe,

and I doubt whether they, either of them, have a clear idea now.

Subsequent to May we were confronted with a horribly complex military

and political situation in the Near East (and by that time military

forces were already committed to the Dardanelles venture); because it

was only then that the position of affairs on the Eastern Front and in

the Near East became transformed owing to the Russian _débâcle_--a

_débâcle_ which turned out to be considerably greater than the

available information as to our Ally's munition difficulties had led

us to anticipate.

It is easy to say now, after the event, that we ought to have come

away from the Dardanelles in June, and to have transferred the force

there, or part of it, to Serbia, which was obviously placed in peril

by Russia's collapse. But in June reinforcements were already

earmarked for the Gallipoli Peninsula, and Sir I. Hamilton was

confident of achieving a substantial success after they should arrive.

It is easy to say now, after the event, that, immediately the

offensive from Anzac and Suvla in August miscarried, we ought to have

come out of the Gallipoli Peninsula and to have transferred the force

there, or some of it, to Serbia. But in the latter part of August the

French were disposed to send a substantial contingent to the Asiatic

side of the Straits, we were supposed to have troops to spare for that

part of the world, and it was not until early September that all this

was dropped in view of events on the Western Front. It is easy to say

now, after the event, that the Entente ought to have foreseen that

King Constantine would throw Serbia over in any case, and that

therefore we ought not to have prevented the Serbs from attacking

Bulgaria while she was still mobilizing. But we trusted a King's word,

and we knew that M. Venizelos was heart and soul on our side. It is

easy to say now that we ought to have insisted on Serbia buying off

Bulgar hostility by handing over Macedonia. But Serbia might have

refused despite our insisting, and, when all is said and done, Serbia

has succeeded in keeping Macedonia after all. Ought we to have come

out of the Dardanelles in September, as soon as it was decided that

neither the French nor British would send reinforcements thither, and

to have transferred the troops to Salonika? Assuredly we ought then to

have come away from the Gallipoli Peninsula. But the evacuation must

have been a ticklish business, and to have aggravated its difficulties

by despatching its war-worn garrison simultaneously to Salonika and

Serbia, just when great enemy contingents were gathering on the Danube

and the Save, would have thrown a tremendous strain upon staff, upon

troops, and upon the shipping resources of all kinds actually on the

spot.

No. Leaving out of consideration the blunder of having drifted into

the Dardanelles enterprise at all, the real mistake lay in not

abandoning that enterprise when it became apparent that the troops

originally detailed could not accomplish their purpose, when it became

apparent that gaining a footing on the Gallipoli Peninsula meant

gaining a footing and no more and that no aid was to be expected from

Bulgaria or from Greece. It was just at that juncture that Russia

began to give out and that the tide turned in favour of the Central

Powers on the eastern side of Europe. The matter was primarily one for

H.M. Government, because the French were not deeply committed to the

effort against the Straits; but H.M. Government at that moment

happened to be in a state of flux. The staff at G.H.Q., St. Omer, were

no doubt not absolutely unprejudiced judges; but I was hearing

constantly from General H. Wilson between August 1914 and the end of

1915, and he always wrote in the same strain about the Dardanelles

from April onwards: "Cut your losses and come out."

Some mention has already been made of M. Briand's inclination for

Entente efforts based on Salonika. In the autumn of 1915 that eminent

French statesman was head of the Government in Paris, and his Cabinet

took up a very strong line indeed over this question. We all agreed

that neither the city, linked as it was by railway with Central

Europe, nor yet its spacious land-locked haven must fall into enemy

hands. Our naval authorities were in full agreement with the French

naval authorities on that point. But when it came to projects for

planting down large military forces in this area, with the idea of

ultimate offensive operations northward ever in the background, we of

the General Staff at the War Office demurred, and we were, at all

events in principle, supported by the majority of the War Council.

Lord Kitchener left for the Aegean at this time; but both before going

and after his return he always, as far as I know, deprecated locking

up fighting resources in Macedonia. Our Allies across the Channel

were, however, somewhat insistent. Two conferences took place: one, a

military one at Chantilly at the very end of October, and a more

authoritative one a few days later in Paris, both of which I attended.

More will be said about these _réunions_ in Chapter XII. General

Joffre, with some of his staff, also paid a visit to London in

connection with the matter. The upshot was that the French practically

forced us into the policy of maintaining a large force about Salonika.

But H.M. Government were placed in a difficult position in the matter,

seeing that their pet project (or at all events the pet project of the

pre-Coalition Government), that of attacking the Dardanelles, had so

completely failed.

One could not altogether escape from the impression at the time that,

in the determined attitude which our friends over the water adopted on

this point, they were at least to some small extent actuated by

anxiety to maroon General Sarrail, who had been sent off in command of

the French troops already despatched, and also to keep him quiet by

investing him with the supreme command in this new theatre of war--as

was later arranged. Why the strong political support enjoyed in

certain French quarters by this prominent, and in the opening days of

the war highly successful, soldier should have been taken so

seriously, it was hard for anybody on our side of the Straits of Dover

to understand. One wonders whether M. Clemenceau might not have been

somewhat less discomposed on the subject had he been at the head of

affairs. But the attitude adopted on the point became extremely

inconvenient at a later date when, after an offensive on a large scale

undertaken on the Salonika front had miscarried completely, owing

largely, if not entirely, to a lamentable lack of co-ordination

between the various contingents engaged, a change in the chief command

did not instantly follow. Unsatisfactory as was the policy of

interning large bodies of British and French troops that were badly

wanted at the decisive point, in a sort of cul-de-sac in the Near

East, it was made all the more unsatisfactory by the way the military

situation was dealt with locally for more than a year and a half.

In view of certain criticisms of the General Staff to which the lack

of information concerning the Gallipoli Peninsula when it was needed

in 1915 has given rise, it is worth mentioning that at my suggestion

General Joffre sent one of his trusted staff-officers over from

Chantilly in November 1915 to put up with us for a few days,

particularly in connection with Macedonian problems. This

representative of the French General Staff was astonished to find that

we possessed numbers of detailed military reports concerning that part

of the world, with full information as to railways and communications,

and he was most complimentary on the subject. "Your England is an

island, my general," he remarked to me; "you have not had the eastern

frontier always to think of like France. How could we devote attention

to Macedonia?" It was not here a question of reconnaissance work or of

costly backstairs methods in a carefully watched fortified area of

prime strategical significance like the environs of the Hellespont.

Getting information about Macedonia had merely been a matter of

sending out experienced military observers to look about them and to

report.

When I left the General Staff at the War Office at the end of the

year, the position of affairs at Salonika was a thoroughly

unsatisfactory one, although the General Staff could fairly claim that

for this it was not responsible. A great Allied army was collected in

this quarter, inert and virtually out of the game. Our antagonists had

very wisely abandoned all idea of attacking, and of thereby justifying

the existence of, that great Allied army. The Bulgars had, with some

assistance from German and Austro-Hungarian troops, secured possession

of the mountainous region of the Balkans; and the Central Powers had

thus acquired just that same advantageous strategical and tactical

position on the Macedonian Front as they had for a year and a half

been enjoying on the Italian borders--the advantageous position of

having roped in Nature as a complaisant ally. The Entente had had an

uncommonly difficult hand to play in the Near East, but, as things

turned out, the Governments concerned had played it about as badly as

was feasible.

Except in the matter of equipping the Greek forces at a very much

later date, I was not directly concerned in what followed for weary

months on the Salonika Front. During the few weeks when I was acting

temporarily as Deputy C.I.G.S. in 1917, things happened to be pretty

well at a standstill in Macedonia, except that just at that time one

British division was transferred from that theatre to Palestine, where

there was some prospect of doing something. I remained in touch with

the General Staff, however, until the end of the war, and throughout

was to a great extent behind the scenes.