ence indeed rather disposed him to
rush his fences at times. Your book or your orator always extols the
man of lightning decision, and in time of war soldiers do often have
to make up their minds for better or for worse on the spur of the
moment. But there is a good deal to be said for very carefully
examining all the factors bearing upon the question at issue before
coming to a conclusion, if there be leisure for consideration. Certain
of the Secretary of State's colleagues were perpetually starting some
new hare or other overnight, and the result would often be that the
Chief would send for me at about 9.30 A.M., would give me some
brand-new document or would tell me of some fresh project that was
afoot, and would direct me to let him have a note on the subject not
later than 11 A.M., so that he should be fully posted up in the matter
by 11.30 A.M., when the War Council, or the Cabinet, or the
Dardanelles Committee, as the case might be, would be wanting to chat
about it.

One would thereupon proceed to investigate the project, or whatever
the thing was, would muster one's data, would probably consult some
subordinate and get him to lend a hand, and by, say, 10.15 A.M. one
had hurriedly drafted out a memorandum, and had handed it to one's
typists with injunctions that the draft must be reproduced at all
hazards within twenty minutes. About 10.30 A.M. a War Office
messenger, wearing a hunted look on his face, would appear at one's
door. "His Lordship wants to know, sir, if you have that paper ready
that he asked you for." "Tell him that he shall have it directly," and
one got on to the telephone to the clerks' room and enjoined despatch.
In another ten minutes, Lord K.'s Private Secretary, and one of the
best, Creedy, would turn up panting but trying not to look heated. "I
say, can't you let the S. of S. have that confounded paper he is
worrying about? Do be quick so that we may have some peace." Fresh
urgings through the telephone, accompanied by reminders that the
twenty minutes had more than elapsed. Five minutes later Fitzgerald
would arrive. "Look here! K.'s kicking up the devil's own fuss because
you won't let him have some paper or other. Typists? But it's always
those typists of yours, General. Why don't you have the lot up against
the wall out in the courtyard, and have them shot? It's the only thing
to do in these cases." When one had almost given up hope, the typist
would hurry in with a beautifully prepare