a common cause will be nearer in spirit, when the war is
ended, than they are to their own civilian populations. For in all
belligerent countries there are two armies fighting--the military
and the civilian; either can let the other down. If the civilian army
loses its _morale_, its vision, its unselfishness, and allows itself
to be out-bluffed by the civilian army of Germany, it as surely
betrays its soldiers as if it joined forces with the Hun. We execute
soldiers for cowardice; it's a pity that the same law does not govern
the civilian army. There would be a rapid revision in the tone of
more than one English and American newspaper. A soldier is shot
for cowardice because his example is contagious. What can be more
contagious than a panic statement or a doubt daily reiterated? Already
there are many of us who have a kindlier feeling and certainly
more respect for a Boche who fights gamely, than for a Britisher
or American who bickers and sulks in comfort. Only one doubt as
to ultimate victory ever assails the Western Front: that it may be
attacked in the rear by the premature peace negotiations of the
civil populations it defends. Should that ever happen, the Western
Front would cease to be a mixture of French, Americans, Canadians,
Australians, British and Belgians; it would become a nation by itself,
pledged to fight on till the ideals for which it set out to fight are
definitely established.

We get rather tired of reading speeches in which civilians presume
that the making of peace is in their hands. The making may be, but the
acceptance is in ours. I do not mean that we love war for war's sake.
We love it rather less than the civilian does. When an honourable
peace has been confirmed, there will be no stauncher pacifist than
the soldier; but we reserve our pacifism till the war is won. We
shall be the last people in Europe to get war-weary. We started with
a vision--the achieving of justice; we shall not grow weary till that
vision has become a reality. When one has faced up to an ultimate
self-denial, giving becomes a habit. One becomes eager to be allowed
to give all--to keep none of life's small change. The fury of an
ideal enfevers us. We become fanatical to outdo our own best record
in self-surrender. Many of us, if we are alive when peace is declared,
will feel an uneasy reproach that perhaps we did not give enough.

This being the spirit of our soldiers, it is easy to understand their
contempt for thos