in the two months we have spent in
France. For some reason, people at home are colossally ignorant of the
task now in front of them. We have now seen three theatres of war, and
it was the same everywhere. Indeed, in Gallipoli we ourselves were just
as ignorant of the state of affairs elsewhere. All the news we had of
Salonica came from the English newspapers. We thought, "However
difficult things may be here, at any rate the Salonica army is only
waiting for a few more men before it cuts the railway to
Constantinople." Then somebody came from Salonica, and we found that the
army there was comforting itself with exactly the same reflections about
us. As for England, everyone who reached us from there arrived with the
conviction that we needed only a few more men to push through.

When the attempt to get through from Suvla failed the public turned to
Bulgaria, and, on the strength of what they read, many of those on the
Peninsula could not help doing the same. Now that we see with our eyes
the nature of Britain's task in France, there is only one depressing
thing about it, and that is that one doubts if the British people have
any more idea of its magnitude than it had of the difficulties of
Gallipoli.

The world hears from the British public vague talk of some future
offensive. It goes without saying that we hear nothing of any plans
here. If there were any, it would be in London that they would first
become common knowledge. But if such an offensive ever does happen, have
the British people any idea of its difficulties? In this warfare, when
you have brought up such artillery as was unbelievable even in the
first year of the war, and reduced miles of trenches to powder, and have
walked over the line of the works in front of you, a handful of batmen
and Headquarters' cooks may still hold up the greatest attack yet
delivered, and you may spend the next month dashing your strength away
against a barrier of ever-increasing toughness.

If an offensive ever is made, we know it will not be made without good
reason for its success. But everything which one has seen points to the
conclusion that a vague belief in the success of such an offensive ought
not to be the sole mental effort that a great part of the nation makes
towards winning the war. And yet, from what I saw lately during a recent
visit to Great Britain, I should say that such was the case. "If we fail
to break through," the public says, "surely the Russians will m