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“THE NEW CONDUCTOR”

Opening of the 1917 Overture

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY

BOSTON  1934

The first two volumes of my “War Memoirs” brought the story up to the end of the Asquith Premiership. Volumes III and IV tell the story of the part played by the Government of which I was the head, up to the end of 1917.

The tale is one which does not always give me any pleasure to tell: quite the reverse. There is much of it which I wrote with intense reluctance. For I found it necessary in the interests of a truthful record to relate facts which constitute a severe criticism on the action of men whose memory is honoured by their fellow countrymen for many sterling qualities which they possessed in a remarkable degree. My disinclination for revealing to the public unpleasant truths which reflect on distinguished public servants is naturally enhanced by the fact that they are no longer present to defend themselves. For that reason, I felt disposed to pass on to others the duty of writing the true history of the occurrences recorded in these volumes. But as all these Great War figures had in their lifetime, either themselves or through the agency of authorised substitutes, already given their version of affairs, in which they did not spare those of whom they disapproved—including, nay, especially myself—I felt I was justified in publishing information at my disposal which corrected wrong impressions. Moreover, I took the view that if you accept the responsibility of writing history, you cannot do so honestly without allocating blame as well as praise, where either is due, to the men who take a leading part in the events that make that history. And the right and duty of criticism or approval for their contribution does not cease with their death. Warriors are in that respect in the same category as politicians. Apart from that general consideration, there are at least two imperative reasons why the facts should be told now and not later. It has been sagely remarked by Macauley that the knowledge of past events “is invaluable only as it leads us to form just calculations with respect to the future.” The atmosphere of the world—East and West—is charged with the international suspicions, rivalries and fears that have always hitherto ended in war. Nations are arming for war. Every nation throughout the world—almost without exception—is increasing its armaments. Every effort to arrest this menacing expansion of the mechanism of wholesale slaughter has failed. Nations with already enormous armaments are increasing and improving them. Formidable nations that were disarmed, are rearming. The peoples are making preparations for war in defiance of treaties they signed, and they are doing so with an urgent anxiety that can only be explained by a general fear that war is impending. There is no confidence in any quarter that peace can be long preserved. In these circumstances, it is essential first of all that nations should know, before they declare war, to what they are committing themselves. All nations alike enter into a war with an equal confidence in ultimate victory for their banners. Defeat is always a surprise to the vanquished. Elements they had not realised, defects in their own equipment, resources or qualities, or superiority in those of their foes, which they never suspected, mistakes attributable to inferior leadership which threw away good chances—and finally that play of chance and fate which no genius can forecast or control, all make the issue of a war as doubtful as that of a serious disease. A good physician may pull through a man with a weak constitution—a poor or second-rate doctor may ruin the chances of a patient with the soundest natural physique. A good cause counts in any struggle, but it is by no means decisive in a particular conflict between right and wrong.

I remember forming one of a delegation of British Ministers (consisting of Mr. Asquith, Lord Kitchener, Mr. Balfour, Sir Edward Grey) which attended an important conference at Paris in 1915. When we left for London, M. Combe (le petit père Combe) came to the station on behalf of the Ministry to see us off. He was a small and vivacious octogenarian whose optimism had not been in the least dimmed by years or the malediction of the devout whom he had offended by his attacks on the Church. As soon as he entered the saloon carriage where we were seated, he started to deliver an oration on the subject of the War and its prospects—all full of hope and confidence. He ended with a peroration about “Justice, Liberté, le Droit et la Victoire.” Mr. Balfour regarded the whole performance with ill-concealed disdain and, turning to me, said, “He must have strangely misread history if he thinks that ‘Justice, Liberté, et Droit’ are synonymous with ‘Victoire’.”

There is a melancholy justification for this cynicism in the events of the past. Victory may not always go to the big battalions, neither does it invariably incline to the righteous, for it is a historical truism that a just cause often contends in vain against the superior might or efficiency of its opponents, or the weakness or greater stupidity of its adherents. Those who entrust the destiny of their country to war, therefore, incur unforeseeable risks which may be fatal to them and to the land they love. No other arbitrament is so costly in its procedure as well as so uncertain in its event. Let those who doubt this read carefully what happened in the Great War and see how reckless and unintelligent handling brought us almost to the rim of catastrophe and how we were saved largely by the incredible folly of our foes. But you cannot always rely on your opponents making greater mistakes than your own.

The next lesson is one we must not overlook in a world of armed nations—that if mankind should unhappily fail to abolish war from the category of its visitations, then, if we are involved in another, we must take earnest heed that we do not fall into the errors that cost us so dearly last time. That is also my excuse for giving an account, so detailed as to be tainted with dreariness, of the great improvisations which were set up to organise the resources of the nations for war. A study of these is essential to anyone who wishes to learn how a country can be organised to the best advantage either in war or in peace.

But, whether in exposition, approbation or condemnation, I must emphasise the importance of this precept—that these lessons cannot be learnt unless they are truthfully taught. If out of respect for honoured memories or cherished delusions, the truth be suppressed and defects hidden under a varnish of glorification, then we shall learn nothing, and if there be a next time we may not then escape disaster as we did in the last calamity—by a shuddering breadth.

I regret more than words can express the necessity for telling the bare facts of our blood-stained stagger to victory. But I had to tell them or leave unchallenged the supremacy of misleading and therefore dangerous illusions.

I have written of men and events as I saw and thought of them. That may involve criticism where others might praise and commendation where others might attach blame. Where I have indulged in any stricture, I have taken the utmost pains to test the accuracy of my recollection by reference to contemporary documents. I have also consulted men who took an active part in episodes I record. But the pathways and boundaries of memory are so obliterated and confused by time that the most reliable witness often strays, unless the road is marked out with the “writing that remains.” Luckily, I have in my possession—thanks to careful secretaries—a vast number of memoranda, minutes and letters concerning the War and Peace, all written at the time.

The only value which these volumes may possess for the future historian of the War will depend upon the memories being genuine and upon the extent to which they are fortified by documentary or other contemporary evidence.

Unfortunately, censure attracts more attention than laudation. I have criticised a few—very few—statesmen and generals. That attracts controversy, and controversy involves a publicity which casts the larger and more important part of the narrative into the shade. If in these pages I have resorted to criticism, I have also recalled with pleasure the great services of many: Bonar Law, Balfour, Churchill, Cecil, Geddes, Maclay, Reading, Smuts, Borden, Hughes, Milner, Northcliffe, Fisher, Lee of Fareham are amongst a multitude of statesmen and administrators to whom praise is due and has been accorded without stint. I have dwelt on the successes of Generals like Plumer, Allenby, Maude and Cowans, whose triumphs lit up the dismal narrative of military ineptitude displayed by a few others. There were great figures whose shortcomings added to our difficulties. In their case, I have also called attention to the exceptional qualities they possessed. And as to the myriads of officers and men whose incredible valour and endurance saved their country from the consequences of every blunder perpetrated, whether by politicians, generals or admirals, if I have failed in bestowing on them the full measure of praise they merit, it is from lack of adequate power to express the emotion to which I am moved by a renewed contemplation of their heroism.

D. Lloyd George.

1. Formation of a National Three-party Government

As soon as the King entrusted me with the task of forming an Administration in succession to the Ministry that had disappeared, I had to survey the tasks awaiting me, political as well as economic, financial, military and naval, and then pass in review the personnel available for such a Government, in order to select men who were suitable for the emergency with which we were confronted. Had my hands been free the men who I thought were best fitted to assist me in counsel and in the effective organisation of the nation for war would have been chosen without reference to party politics. I should have drawn my Ministers partly from the ranks of the back-benchers, some of whom had made a mark in Parliament, some of whom had no conspicuous parliamentary gifts, but who I felt confident possessed the experience and qualities which would make them good administrators. I should also have looked outside Parliament for men who in their own pursuits had shown faculties of energy, foresight, imagination, judgment and courage, and I should have put them in charge of various branches of government activity.

But I had to take into account the fundamental fact that I was working under a parliamentary system, and that it was essential that the Government should secure the support of Parliament during the first testing months, when its schemes were developing but could not hope to fructify in any decisive achievement. Had there been a united party behind me which, with dependable allies, would have commanded in the House of Commons a majority solid and large enough to carry me through the inevitable vicissitudes of evil as well as good tidings for a period of two years and more, I should have had a freer, a wider and a more promising choice. I could then have secured a more homogeneous form of government and a Government more sympathetic to the war policy in which I believed. I was anxious to change the men and methods which were too much associated with the old war direction.

But the party to which I belonged was divided into two parts. On a canvass undertaken by Dr. Addison, with the help of the late Mr. Kellaway, it was ascertained that there were 136 Liberals out of a total 260 who were prepared to support an Administration of which I was the head. That meant that about half of the Party still followed the lead of Mr. Asquith. The Irish Party were on the whole Asquithian and the Labour Party were divided between supporters of the War and the out-and-out pacifists.

The majority of the Tory Ministers in the Asquith Coalition were definitely opposed to my Premiership. When they first realised that it was impending they made hysterical efforts to fend it off. When it became a fact, they accepted the prospect of serving under my leadership with bitter reluctance. As to some of them, there was no time up to the end when they would not have welcomed my resignation. That added to my difficulties in moments calling for critical decision, and their attitude impeded and once or twice thwarted my efforts. To understand their attitude it was necessary to bear in mind that there had never before been a “ranker” raised to the Premiership—certainly not one except Disraeli who had not passed through the Staff College of the old universities.

As to the attitude of the Labour Party, I had as yet no information, inasmuch as I had not come into contact with them either directly or indirectly during the negotiations. All I knew was that in Asquithian circles there was the most complete confidence that no Tory leader except Bonar Law and Carson would serve under me, and that the Labour Party would have nothing to do with a Lloyd George Administration.

The prospect of success in the formation of a Ministry assured of reliable parliamentary support was therefore at that period not encouraging. The prospect of life for the Government was placed in influential circles at six weeks. However, I decided to undertake the duty entrusted to me by the Sovereign and to do my best to form a Government that would organise the strength of the nation for victory and thus gradually command its confidence. I felt strongly that failure would mean that the kind of flabby direction which had jeopardised the chance of a favourable issue out of the War would be restored to power with added authority, but with diminished vigour and initiative.

I started by trying to find out what Conservative support was available, and herein I had to depend upon the superior knowledge and experience of Mr. Bonar Law and Lord Edmund Talbot. I have already told the story of how we secured the powerful adherence of Mr. Balfour, who undertook to fill the position of Foreign Secretary. There were two other able men of great influence in the Party who were also ready to assist the new Administration—Sir Edward Carson and Lord Milner. As soon as I was assured of this support, I felt confident that my task would be accomplished. In most governments there are four or five outstanding figures who by exceptional talent, experience, and personality constitute the Inner Council which gives direction to the policy of a Ministry. An administration that is not fortunate enough to possess such a group may pull through without mishap in tranquil seasons, but in an emergency it is hopelessly lost. The rest do not count in a crisis. The hummocks that look like eminences in fine weather are quickly submerged in a great flood, when the highest peaks alone are visible above the surface of the waters.

In the Liberal Party there were three or four Ministers, and no more, whose names meant anything to the general public—Mr. Asquith, Lord Grey, and Mr. Winston Churchill. Without any undue presumption, I may also add my own name at that date, largely owing to the part I had taken in establishing Old Age Pensions and a National System of Insurance, and to the fact that I had during recent years been in the forefront of all the political controversies of the day. The residue were known to parliamentarians and to keen politicians outside; but I doubt whether one in ten of the men in the trenches could tell you what office they held or even to what party they belonged.

The men known to the general public amongst Conservatives were also few. Foremost amongst them were Mr. Bonar Law, Mr. Balfour, and Sir Edward Carson. These were prominent figures as far as the nation at large was concerned. Several others were more or less known to those who were interested in politics; Lord Curzon, Mr. Walter Long, Mr. Austen Chamberlain, and Lord Robert Cecil stood high in the councils of the Party, while Lord Milner made a special appeal to the young intelligentsia of his Party. The “diehard” element also trusted him in the essentials of the faith. That is more than could be said of Lord Curzon, who inspired a distrust which in some not uninfluential Tory quarters amounted to detestation. Incidentally, it was this bloc which ultimately barred his way to the Premiership in 1923.

Lord Lansdowne was one of the elder statesmen of the Party who was more respected than followed. His sword was never very formidable in action; it was now only useful to return the salute. The direction in which it was waveringly pointed was no longer heeded by the exclusive regiment he once led. Bonar Law, Carson and Balfour between them commanded the trust and obedience of every section of the Party, and where they went on any patriotic enterprise which did not cross a fundamental Tory principle, the whole Party would follow. The fact that the other leaders, whose names I have given, were not associated with the venture, would not have seriously disturbed Tory sentiment or weakened its adhesion to the new Government. From the point of view of the rigorous and effective prosecution of the War, there was much to be said for leaving them out. Men who come into a joint enterprise reluctantly and resentfully will, if they are honest workers—and these were—fulfil their tasks to the best of their ability, but their doubts usually revive when there are difficulties, and when decision depends on faith in leadership, they are a source of irresolution. Many a time during the coming years did I find that this condition of mind in some of my leading lieutenants weakened and postponed and now and again frustrated essential action. This was notably the case in dealing with the vital questions of wasteful offensives and of Unity of Command. I found that the men in question always leant towards support of the military hierarchy in opposition to the view I took. Had they remained outside, their positions could have been filled by men of the type of Maclay, Inverforth, Beaverbrook, Geddes, Lee, Weir, Rhondda, Cowdray, Albert Stanley—men who possessed organising brains of the first order, and whose services to the nation during the War have never been fully appreciated. However, events circumscribed my choice of colleagues.

Mr. Bonar Law, in addition to being a strong party man, felt that he had a special trust to discharge as the leader of his Party, and that he had not the same freedom to dispense with party considerations in the choice of Ministers as had been vouchsafed to me by the circumstances of my Party. He therefore felt that in order to avoid splitting his Party he was under an obligation to do all in his power to bring his colleagues, the Conservative ex-Ministers, inside the new Coalition. Of the steps he took to induce them to remain at the posts they held, or their equivalent, I shall give an account later on.

In this connection I quote the following characteristic letter which I received from the late Mr. Leo Maxse. I think there is a good deal in what he said:

This was a shrapnel shot intended to hit Balfour, Curzon, Walter Long and Robert Cecil.

As the change could not have been effected without the intervention of Mr. Bonar Law, I felt that I must abide by his decision in the selection of Conservative Ministers. Subsequently, I had much reason to deplore his loyalty to colleagues who were not conspicuously faithful to him and who, even in these negotiations, had tried to snatch leadership out of his hands.

I felt it was a matter of the first national importance to bring the Labour Party into active coöperation with the new Government. This was the first Great War since the American Civil War in which whole democracies were engaged in a deadly struggle. As far as the Western Allies were concerned, this was truly a democratic war. It was entered into with the full assent of practically the whole of the people. Their sons, without distinction of rank, grade or vocation, fought and suffered. It was necessary in order to win that workers at home should put forth the whole of their strength. To do so it was essential that their coöperation should be enlisted and retained right to the end. I could see no prospect of bringing the War to a satisfactory end for some time to come. War weariness was bound to grow. The national will was unbroken, but the national ardour did not flame out as it did during the first months of the War. In these circumstances it is not surprising that labour troubles were on the increase.

Britain was in this respect no exception amongst the belligerent countries. Allied and enemy countries alike were beginning to experience the irritation arising from war weariness amongst the workers. The factories and workshops of Russia were seething with discontent. The German worker was showing symptoms of the querulousness of overstrain. In neither of these two countries did the rulers bring the spokesmen of Labour frankly into active partnership, and the failure to do so ended in disaster for both, soon in Russia, later in Germany. I deemed it essential to forestall trouble by bringing the Labour leaders into more active and effective coöperation with the Government of the day in the prosecution of the War. In the late Coalition there was only one Labour Minister—Mr. Arthur Henderson—and he was not a member of the War Committee. I came to the conclusion that Labour must have a more substantial and effective representation in the new Government and that one of its most prominent and respected leaders should be a member of the small body which had the supreme direction of the War. But first of all it was necessary that the Labour Party should express its willingness to coöperate.

On the morrow of my visit to the Palace, Mr. Arthur Henderson called on me at the War Office and asked me whether I was prepared to meet a deputation from the Parliamentary Labour Party and the National Labour Executive to discuss the conditions of possible participation in my Government. He had been invited by Mr. Asquith to attend the conclave of Liberal Ministers which decided not to serve in any Government of which the late Prime Minister was not the Chief. Mr. Henderson was the sole dissentient when that resolution was passed. He immediately consulted his Labour colleagues as to the course to be adopted. He informed me that the Labour Executive had discussed the question of whether they should support or oppose the Government, that they were divided on the subject, but that before coming to any final decision on the matter, they were anxious to have my views on two or three issues which particularly concerned them. I readily agreed to meet the representatives of Labour, and later on they came to me at the War Office. All the best known Socialist and Labour leaders were present, including Mr. Ramsay MacDonald, Mr. Snowden, Mr. Henderson, Mr. Sidney Webb, Mr. J. H. Thomas and Mr. Bevin.

I was subjected to a good deal of examination and cross-examination. The Labour Party were by no means completely united in their general attitude towards the War. Broadly speaking, I found at this interview that the Trade Union representatives were in favour of an effective prosecution of the War up to the attainment of victory. On the other hand, there was a strong pacifist element amongst the Socialist section. The spokesmen of the latter—especially Mr. Ramsay MacDonald and Mr. Sidney Webb—took an active part in the process of putting questions which they thought might be embarrassing to the new Administration, and the answers to which might ensure a refusal to support the Government. It was apparent to me that their hostility evoked no sympathy amongst their Trade Union colleagues.

I opened the proceedings by addressing them on the position of the War, and upon the general outline of my own policy as Prime Minister.

As there has been a good deal of discussion of a recriminatory character about the conditions under which organised Labour entered the Cabinet, it is only fair to the majority who gave their adhesion to the new Government that I should quote textually from the official record of the proceedings at that fateful interview. The following passage from my speech to the delegation will illustrate the position which I then took, and to which I faithfully adhered.

On the question of Food Supplies, I promised to appoint a Controller to supervise production and distribution.

I then continued:

Then came the process of cross-examination to which I have alluded.

The deputation then retired. I understood that subsequently there was a very heated discussion as to whether the Party should accept the invitation which I extended to it to coöperate actively in the war direction by permitting some of its leading members to join the Government. By a majority of one the Labour Executive decided to join the Administration during the period of the War. I ascertained that Mr. J. H. Thomas, who had voted against Labour joining the Asquith Coalition, on this occasion voted for participation. What made the change in his attitude more significant and honourable was the fact that he refused to accept office himself.

The Labour decision assured the success of my task in the formation of a truly National Ministry. When it became known that the most powerful Conservative leaders had already accepted posts in the Government; that I had assurance of support from one half of the Liberal Party; and that the Labour Party had decided to come in, Mr. Bonar Law experienced no difficulty in persuading the recalcitrant Conservative Ministers to overcome their reluctance to take office under my Premiership.

Soon after the Labour decision became known, on the evening of December 7th I received Lord Curzon, Lord Robert Cecil, Mr. Austen Chamberlain, and Mr. Walter Long, at an interview at the War Office—as they put it “to discuss certain matters in connection with the proposed arrangements.”

Here is the Minute they subsequently published of what took place at the interview.

Their anxiety that there should be no change in the Army Command was a clear indication of the difficulty I was to experience in controlling the Army Chiefs.

As I pointed out to the Labour deputation, I had decided to make one fundamental change in the constitution of the Cabinet. I had long come to the conclusion that a body of twenty Members was a futile instrument for the conduct of any business which required immediate action. I ultimately resolved to set up a Cabinet of five to whom the whole control of the War should be entrusted. I felt that they must remain in almost constant session to review events from day to day. Ministers who were in charge of departments could rarely be available for purposes of consultation, and their minds would naturally be taken up with the innumerable details of their respective offices. The War Cabinet must therefore consist of men who were free from all departmental cares and who could devote the whole of their time and thought to the momentous questions which were involved in the successful direction of a world war. When matters arose which affected any particular department, the Head of that department could be summoned to attend the Cabinet, bringing with him appropriate experts. It was made quite clear that the Cabinet would have the same direct access to these experts as their Departmental Chiefs; that questions could be addressed to them directly; and that they were to speak their minds freely without awaiting the permission or opinion of their political Chiefs.

I had a painful recollection of the Dardanelles muddle, where distinguished experts sat silent and sullen at the War Committee whilst their Chief was advancing propositions with which they profoundly disagreed. They might as well never have attended our sittings. I felt that it was essential that the Cabinet should know quite as much as the Ministers concerned about the personal opinions of the men who were advising them, and who had a first-hand knowledge of the problems and difficulties.

The first War Cabinet consisted of myself, Lord Curzon, Mr. Henderson, Lord Milner, and Mr. Bonar Law. It was also understood that Mr. Balfour should be called into council not only whenever any question arose which affected the Foreign Office, but regularly when he could spare time from his departmental duties. I felt that his unique experience and penetrating intellect would be invaluable in council and that as far as the details of his office were concerned, they could be effectively discharged by his assistant, Lord Robert Cecil.

I realised that I should have to devote the whole of my time to war problems, and that it would be impossible for me, except on certain occasions, to attend the House of Commons. It was therefore agreed that the leadership of the House should be entrusted to Mr. Bonar Law. As I said in the House of Commons, “there would be a Cabinet of five with one of its members doing sentry duty outside, manning the walls and defending the Council Chamber against attack while we were trying to do our work inside.” That did not mean that I did not put in an appearance in the House of Commons. I attended almost daily to answer important questions, and there was hardly a debate of any consequence at which I was not present and did not take part. But leadership of the House of Commons means a good deal more than that. It calls for constant attendance and attention inside the walls of the Palace of Westminster. This I could not give.

2. Personnel

When I came to consider what the Liberal quota of the Ministry was to be, I was confronted with the resolution carried by all the Liberal Ministers at a meeting to which I was not summoned, binding each and all not to serve under me. This decision was responsible for the disastrous split in the Liberal Party which diminished its influence, paralysed its energies, and distracted its purpose for all the years that have ensued since 1916. Even to this day it poisons relations between men whose cordial coöperation is essential to the well-being of Liberalism. It deflects judgment upon every issue. Yet however disastrous it was to the future strength of the Party, from the point of view of the efficiency of the Government as a war instrument, the decision arrived at by the official leaders of the Party to decline association with the new Government was an undoubted advantage. There were only three Liberal ex-Ministers whose assistance would have been of undoubted value. One was the Liberal leader, Mr. Asquith. He lacked the force and initiative essential to leadership of the nation in a great war, but as a member of a War Cabinet his counsel and experience would have been of great value. But as I have already related, at the Buckingham Palace Conference after his resignation, he had refused to serve in any Government in which he was not Premier. He declined to serve under Mr. Balfour (himself an ex-Premier). Subsequently he refused to join a Bonar Law Administration. I could not therefore hope to secure his coöperation.

Another Liberal Minister whose gifts of resource and imagination would have been of service in the prosecution of the War was Mr. Edwin Montagu. Having regard to the close friendship which existed between him and Mr. Asquith, he hesitated to join my Government just then. Later on he came in.

The third ex-Minister who would have been helpful in council was Mr. Winston Churchill—one of the most remarkable and puzzling enigmas of his time. When I took office he had ceased to be a Minister for some months, but he was still a prominent member of the Liberal Party. His fertile mind, his undoubted courage, his untiring industry, and his thorough study of the art of war, would have made him a useful member of a War Cabinet. Here his more erratic impulses could have been kept under control and his judgment supervised and checked, before plunging into action. Men of his ardent temperament and powerful mentality need exceptionally strong brakes. Unfortunately, the Tory Ministers, with the exception of Mr. Balfour and Sir Edward Carson, were unanimous in their resolve that he should not be a member of the Ministry, and most of them made it a condition precedent to their entry into the Government that he should be excluded.

Mr. Bonar Law had a profound distrust of him. I did my best to persuade him to withdraw his objection and I urged the argument which is usually advanced on these occasions,—that Mr. Churchill would be more dangerous as a critic than as a member of the Government. I remember saying to him that when I was practising as a solicitor one of my most responsible duties was the choice of counsel in an important case. There was the type of man whom you could always depend upon to do his best for the client—and his best was of the very best at the Bar. On the other hand, there was the man of brilliant parts who on his day was even more formidable. His judgment, however, could never be quite depended upon. He was apt either in cross-examination or in speech to be guilty of an indiscretion which would ruin his client’s chances. The difficulty in regard to him always was that if you left him out of your team, the other side might brief him and get the benefit of one of his reliable exhibitions of talent, and then I said the question one always had to put to oneself was this: “Is he more dangerous if he is for you than when he is against you?” When I put it in this way to Mr. Bonar Law, his reply was: “I would rather have him against us every time.”

I deeply regretted this attitude, but I could not risk a break-up of the political combination which was an essential foundation of the Government, for the sake of an immediate inclusion of Mr. Churchill in the Ministry. A few months later I was able to appoint him to the headship of the Ministry of Munitions. Even then the Tory antipathy to him was so great that for a short while the very existence of the Government was in jeopardy.

Here are some samples of the objections advanced at that later time by my colleagues. One of them wrote:

Another Minister wrote at the same time: “Apart from every other consideration, is it wise for you to have as one of your Ministers, a dangerously ambitious man? . . .” And another important Conservative Minister wrote me in a similar strain: “As regards W. Churchill and the Government, I have made enquiries and from what Z— tells me I am satisfied it would bring about a very grave situation in our Party. . . .”

Why were they so bitter and implacable? His political record naturally exasperated his old Party. He does nothing by halves, and when he left it he attacked his old associates and condemned his old principles with a vigour and a witty scorn which rankled. When war was declared the national peril constrained all Parties into a temporary truce in which party ranks and party rancours were for the time being overlooked or ignored. But Conservatives could not forgive nor forget Churchill’s desertion to their enemies, and his brisk and deadly firing into their ranks at a moment when their rout had begun. Had he remained a faithful son of the political household in which he was born and brought up, his share in the Dardanelles fiasco would have been passed over and another sacrifice would have been offered up to appease the popular anger. There was an abundant choice from which the altar could have been supplied. His mistakes gave resentful Tories an irresistible opportunity for punishing rank treason to their Party, and the lash which drove Churchill out of office, although knotted with the insults he had hurled at them, was wielded with the appearance of being applied not by vindictive partisans but by dutiful patriots.

For days I discussed Churchill with one or other of my colleagues, his gifts, his shortcomings, his mistakes, especially the latter. Some of them were more excited about his appointment than about the War. It was a serious crisis. It was interesting to observe in a concentrated form every phase of the distrust and trepidation with which mediocrity views genius at close quarters. Unfortunately, genius always provides its critics with material for censure—it always has and always will. Churchill is certainly no exception to this rule.

They admitted he was a man of dazzling talents, that he possessed a forceful and a fascinating personality. They recognised his courage and that he was an indefatigable worker. But they asked why, in spite of that, although he had more admirers, he had fewer followers than any prominent public man in Britain? They pointed to the fact that at the lowest ebb of their fortunes, Joseph Chamberlain in Birmingham and Campbell-Bannerman in Scotland could count on a territorial loyalty which was unshakable in its devotion. On the other hand, Churchill had never attracted, he had certainly never retained, the affection of any section, province or town. His changes of Party were not entirely responsible for this. Some of the greatest figures in British political life had ended in a different Party from that in which they commenced their political career. That was therefore not an adequate explanation of his position in public confidence. They asked: What, then, was the reason?

Here was their explanation. His mind was a powerful machine, but there lay hidden in its material or its make-up some obscure defect which prevented it from always running true. They could not tell what it was. When the mechanism went wrong, its very power made the action disastrous, not only to himself but to the causes in which he was engaged and the men with whom he was coöperating. That was why the latter were nervous in his partnership. He had in their opinion revealed some tragic flaw in the metal. This was urged by Churchill’s critics as a reason for not utilising his great abilities at this juncture. They thought of him not as a contribution to the common stock of activities and ideas in the hour of danger, but as a further danger to be guarded against.

I took a different view of his possibilities. I felt that his resourceful mind and his tireless energy would be invaluable under supervision. That he had vision and imagination, no one could doubt. The Dardanelles idea (apart from its execution), and his early discernment of the value of tanks clearly demonstrated his possession of these faculties. Men with such gifts are rare—very rare. In an emergency they ought to be utilised to the full, and if you keep a vigilant eye on their activities, they are a greater asset than a legion of the conventional sort.

That is why I thought he ought to be employed. I knew something of the feeling against him amongst his old Conservative friends, and that I would run great risks in promoting Churchill to any position in the Ministry; but the insensate fury they displayed when later on the rumour of my intention reached their ears surpassed all my apprehensions, and for some days it swelled to the dimensions of a grave ministerial crisis which threatened the life of the Government. I took the risk, and although I had occasionally some reason to regret my trust, I am convinced I was right to overrule the misgivings of my colleagues, for Mr. Churchill rendered conspicuous service in further increasing the output of munitions when an overwhelming supply was essential to victory. As to Churchill’s future, it will depend on whether he can establish a reputation for prudence without losing audacity.

As to the rest of the Liberal Ministers, I felt that none of them could have contributed anything in ideas or energy comparable with the men whom I had in my mind selected to fill the vacancies by the retirement of these Liberals from office. Mr. M’Kenna would have been plainly impossible, for he was the prime mover in the intrigues that precipitated the break-up of the Asquith Coalition. Apart from that, he had defeatist propensities which would have weakened a Government called into being for the more vigorous prosecution of the War.

This latter observation would have been equally applicable to Mr. Runciman. Moreover, in a Government where prompt and effective action was the dominant aim, he would not have found a suitable niche. Although he is a man of high intelligence, there is a lack of continuity and persistent application which has always accounted for his failure to achieve any distinguished success in any of the various offices which he has held. He never follows through. The energy and mastery which he succeeds in conveying in his speeches evaporate before they are translated into masterful action. His most conspicuous attribute is a glib inefficacy, which can explain and expound with forcible and relevant fluency what he is after and why he has never got it. He has a perfect command of the whole jargon of business, and he flips it about in his speeches with a dexterity which awes the ignorant and impresses even the proficient. There he excels and there he also ends.

After the last Cabinet Lord Kitchener ever attended, he walked across with me to the Ministry of Munitions. It was his first visit to that Department. Mr. Runciman had taken a conspicuous part in a discussion at the Cabinet meeting. On my referring to the clarity with which he had put his case, Lord Kitchener observed: “No man in the Cabinet has disappointed me as much as Runciman. When I first joined the Cabinet he came to me and said that he would very much like to offer his services to me in any direction where his acquaintance with the commercial community would be helpful. I was very grateful and thought it was exceedingly kind of him to tender his assistance. I had spent most of my life in the East and therefore I had no opportunity of coming into contact with the industrial activities of this country. I asked him to help me in several matters where I lacked experience and knowledge. He readily agreed to do so. More particularly I remember how I asked him to aid me in organising the engineering capacity of this country for the production of war material. Runciman said: ‘You need not bother about that—leave it entirely to me.’ So I did. But I always found that in all these cases nothing was really done. No man has disappointed me so completely as Runciman.” Lord Kitchener spoke with an unaccustomed note of sadness. I never saw him after that conversation.

As to Lord Grey, he was quite futile in any enterprise that demanded decision and energy, and the tremendous responsibility of action in war had a paralytic effect on his powers. I cannot think of any suggestion of his that contributed in the least to the effective prosecution of the War.

Charles Masterman, whose work in Propaganda had been highly successful, had failed in his efforts to secure a seat in Parliament after his defeat at Bethnal Green, and he had therefore left the Asquith Government. In any case, he unfortunately adopted a very hostile attitude towards my Administration and therefore I could not have availed myself of his services.

In order to test the attitude of my old colleagues towards the Government, I determined to make an offer of office to one of them who had not displayed any active antagonism to me personally. I therefore invited Sir Herbert Samuel to join the Government. He had taken no part in any of the intrigues that went on. He has always done his own snaring. He was a competent and industrious administrator, and I was persuaded he could preside with neat efficiency over one of the offices which, owing to the War, did not demand exceptional gifts of an original kind. Before the War he had won the reputation of being capable and useful in every official sphere he had occupied. During the War he had done nothing in particular, but he had done it very well. When the crash came in 1914, he was quite anxious to do his bit in the Great War and hit on the idea of organising an immediate provision for the unemployed which his discernment of events foresaw as the urgent home problem we had to think of for the duration of the War. When it was discovered that there were no workless labourers to profit by his benevolent forethought, but that on the contrary there was a labour shortage, his contribution to victory came to an end. He gradually sank out of sight altogether as a man who attended to odd jobs of a minor but serviceable character. I have no recollection of his ever having been called in by Mr. Asquith to any of our consultations on major problems arising out of the War.

I asked Samuel to come and see me at the War Office, and as far as I recollect, offered him the post he had occupied in the preceding Administration. He replied that he did not see any elements of endurance in my Government and therefore must decline. I told him that I thought he was mistaken in his estimate of the vitality of the Government, and that he must not be surprised if that Government were in existence five years from that day. His only reply was an incredulous chuckle. Thus our interview ended. My next meeting with him was at San Remo, four years later, when he came to be offered the Governorship of Jerusalem on my recommendation.

Twelve Liberals who held office, all minor posts, in the first Coalition, accepted office in the second. Dr. Addison, who had been very helpful as Parliamentary Secretary of the Ministry of Munitions, was made a Minister. He was a man for whose mental equipment I had a great regard. He possessed both breadth and originality of mind.

As to Labour, positions were offered to and accepted by eight members of that Party, as against three in the late Government.

All the Conservative Ministers in the late Administration occupied positions in the new Government, with the exception of Lord Lansdowne. He had for some time been more in sympathy with a peace than with a war offensive, and when the late Government decided that the time had not arrived for negotiation, he felt that his presence inside a Government constituted to prosecute the War with greater vigour was out of place. Moreover, his health was failing and he decided not to come in. On the other hand, there were at least four notable Conservatives who were not in the last Administration, but who accepted the invitation to join my Government. One was Lord Milner. I had been one of his most vigorous critics during the Boer War, but that did not prevent his placing his services at the disposal of the State in a national emergency, although his old assailant was at the head of the Government. Sir Edward Carson also decided to come into the Government once more. It was my original intention to make him a Member of the War Cabinet. He had no administrative experience and I thought that his great talents could be better utilised in a consultative than in an executive position. Conservative Ministers, however, resented his promotion to the Cabinet that directed the War, and I had reluctantly to give way. It was a mistake. He had no aptitude for administrative office, but his keen mind would have been helpful in Council.

The refusal of Liberal Ministers to join the Government enabled me to make an experiment which turned out to be a conspicuous success. I invited from outside a number of men of exceptional capacity who had never held any office in any Government, and most of whom were not even in Parliament, to occupy positions of great responsibility. I also decided to place men of this type in charge of some of the new departments. Shipping was such a vital service for the conduct and continuance of the War that I felt there ought to be a separate department dealing with it, and that some person experienced in ship management should be put in charge. The very life of the nation depended upon making the best use of our ships—in the transport of food and material from overseas and in the carriage of munitions and men for the various war areas. Had there been a serious breakdown in British shipping, the Allies would have been beaten. Our shipping resources were developing a grave deficiency. I therefore decided that a new Ministry should be created whose exclusive function should be their complete reorganisation. I invited a great Glasgow shipowner—Sir Joseph Maclay (now Lord Maclay)—to take the post of Shipping Director. How he discharged the important functions of his office it will be a part of my story to tell and I shall tell it with pride in his great achievement.

Photo. by Hay Wrightson

THE RT. HONOURABLE GEORGE NICOLL BARNES, C.H.

A new department was also created for the purpose of controlling the food supplies of the country. I placed Lord Devonport in charge of it. I had some previous experience of him when I was President of the Board of Trade, and he was Parliamentary Secretary of the Board. I knew all about his clear-headedness and his businesslike and masterful handling of every problem I left to his charge. As far as food distribution was concerned, there was no man in the country who had a wider experience.

Mr. Prothero (now Lord Ernle) was brought in as Minister of Agriculture. Not only was he a man of great ability and culture, but he had acquired a thorough acquaintance with agricultural problems as agent of one of the largest and best managed estates in the country. It is also interesting to recall the fact that this was the first experience in office of a man destined at no remote future to play a notable part in the political life of the country—Mr. Stanley Baldwin. He became one of the Junior Lords of the Treasury, with Mr. James Parker and Mr. Towyn Jones. Up to that time he had been Mr. Bonar Law’s Parliamentary Private Secretary.

A new Department was created for the purpose of organising the whole of the man power of the nation on more systematic and efficacious lines. Up to that time, mobilisation had been rather haphazard and there was a shocking waste of effort and energy in this direction. The result was that there was a shortage in the forces in the field, whilst essential industries suffered from a faulty distribution of the available labour reserves at home. It was decided to form a new Ministry and Mr. Neville Chamberlain was invited to become Director of National Service. He accepted the post. At the time of the appointment I had never seen him and knew very little of him. It was not one of my successful selections.

I resolved to create two other new Ministries. One was for the administration of Pensions. For that I designated Mr. George Barnes, one of the most level-headed and highly respected of the Trade Union leaders. Another was the Ministry of Labour. I invited Mr. John Hodge to become the first Minister. He had been a conspicuously successful Trade Union leader, one who had succeeded in achieving the maximum of benefit for his men with the minimum of strife in the industry. Lord Cowdray, the famous contractor, accepted the chairmanship of the Air Board. Lord Rhondda took office for the first time as President of the Local Government Board in succession to Mr. Walter Long, who became Colonial Secretary.

I was fortunate enough to persuade Mr. H. A. L. Fisher, the Vice Chancellor of Sheffield University, to undertake the Board of Education. His tenure of that important office will ever constitute one of the most outstanding chapters in the annals of our educational history. No Minister since W. E. Forster has left such a mark on our system of education. Sir Albert Stanley (now Lord Ashfield), one of the greatest transport organisers of his time, was appointed to the Board of Trade. How he straightened out the tangle which congested the traffic on our railways will be told in due course.

Another departure from Cabinet traditions which I had decided to initiate was the setting up of a Cabinet Secretariat. Hitherto no written record was ever made of even the most important decisions of the Cabinet, let alone the discussions which preceded them. I have no recollection of Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman or Mr. Asquith ever making a note of the conclusions arrived at, except in very exceptional cases where the decision taken was embodied in the form of an answer to be given to a question about to be put in the House of Commons. The result was that now and again there was a good deal of doubt as to what the Cabinet had actually determined on some particular issue. I came to the conclusion that it was desirable to have a secretary present who would take a short précis of the discussions on all important issues and make a full record of all decisions. Where these decisions affected one of the departments, a copy of the Minute was immediately sent to the Minister concerned. I thought it was of primary importance that a written intimation of the character and terms of the decision of the Cabinet should be sent formally to the department, not merely as a reminder to the Minister, but in order that the officials who advised him and carried out his orders should be fully informed. I also thought it not only desirable but imperative, having regard to the number of decisions taken in the past which had not been carried out, to charge the secretary with the duty of keeping in touch with further developments and of reporting to me from time to time what action had been taken in the various departments concerned in these Cabinet orders.

I subsequently found that these enquiries addressed from the Cabinet Office and the reports which had to be made in response, were very helpful in keeping the departments alert and well up to the mark. Where the secretary reported failure or delay in carrying out decisions, I sent for the Minister, and where unexpected difficulties had arisen, steps were taken to remove them.

The first secretary appointed to this responsible and confidential position was Sir Maurice Hankey. He discharged his very delicate and difficult function with such care, tact, and fairness that I cannot recall any dispute ever arising as to the accuracy of his Minutes or his reports on the action taken.

I strengthened my own secretariat by adding to my personal staff Mr. Philip Kerr (now Lord Lothian) and Professor Adams. They were both men of exceptional capacity. Mr. Kerr gave me the assistance of a fine mind in all the work arising out of Imperial and Inter-Allied Conferences. Professor Adams helped over domestic issues like Food Production and Ireland. I found his knowledge and sagacity of great service.

I lost no time in forming the Ministry. We were at war and every hour counted. There were many vital questions overdue for decision. I remembered the leisurely and even dawdling way in which the first Coalition had been pieced together and the precious days wasted in discussion over appointments to ministerial posts, whilst important decisions, more particularly over the Dardanelles attacks, had to await the weighing and balancing of personal “claims” rather than merits. This method of doing business during a war was responsible for one of the many delays which proved to be fatal to that particular enterprise.

I was called to the Premiership on the 7th of December, and on the 9th the War Cabinet had been constituted and actually met to transact business.

3. Survey of the Position

In order to understand the nature and gravity of the undertaking with which the new Government was confronted, it is necessary to make a rapid survey of the position at the end of 1916.

We were on the eve of the fourth campaign of the War. The conditions under which it was to be fought had already been settled by military and naval strategy and by events and circumstances, some of the most fateful of which, as I have already related, I had vainly endeavoured to modify or change. It was my misfortune to be called upon to grapple with the consequences of policies which I had resisted step by step.

Three of the Allied Powers—Belgium, Serbia and Roumania—had been almost completely destroyed as military entities that counted in the struggle. Russia, still huge, was sprawling on the ground, with formidable possibilities if she rose with the remnant of her great strength to face the foe. But no one knew whether she could or would rise. She excited more conjecture than confidence. The overwhelming preponderance in man power which had given the Allies such a false sense of security and lured them in 1915 and 1916 into enterprises where human life was thrown lavishly and recklessly into the conflagration to feed the flames as if there were an endless store of available men in reserve, had now practically disappeared. From the purely military aspect the Central Powers seemed stronger and more unbreakable than they had ever been.

Most, if not all, opportunities for manœuvring the Central Powers out of their vast stronghold had been closed down one by one. Its weak points had been sought out in order to avoid them as if they were traps for the faint-hearted. The High Commands and the Chiefs of Staffs of the Western Powers had concluded that this was to be a war of attrition, and they had so contrived matters that their strategical notion should be the only one left on the board. It was a pre-planned “I told you so.” With these themes I deal later on in my chapter on the military situation. Here I call attention to the fact that the struggle had already become essentially a trial of endurance between nations more than between armies. There were still openings for military skill. Genius can always find or force an opening. The Allies had almost given up looking out for such an instrument of deliverance. The issue of the War now depended on exhaustion. Whose strength would give out first? Morale, food, man power, war material and transport—the belligerent group that failed first in one of these essential elements lost the War.

In this devastating struggle the resources of all the warring nations had been well-nigh strained to the utmost limit. The nation that made the most economical and efficient use of its remaining strength, having regard to the strategic and economic position as defined at the end of the third campaign, stood the best chance of winning in the end. The Central Powers were in the best strategical positions on land, on every flank. As they were both in the East and West entrenched on Allied soil, they could not be dislodged without a decisive preponderance in men and machinery on the side of their assailants. The overthrow of Roumania had shortened their line, whilst it had lengthened the Russian line by five hundred kilometres. If Russia went out of action, the resources of the combatant groups in men would be equal.

As far as the mechanism of war was concerned, the Allies were making strides towards equality. With a sustained effort, 1917 would see the advantage in this respect inuring to their side. On the French Front the Allies were better off in ammunition than the Germans, but not in guns. The French had neglected the advice given to them as well as to us by their ablest artillery officers to concentrate on heavy artillery, especially howitzers of the latest patterns. We accepted this excellent counsel and acted upon it. The French gunner staffs disliked it and accordingly delayed action. They regarded this advice as a reflection upon their idol, the soixante-quinze—an unpatriotic aspersion on this ingenious product of French genius. Later on in the year they realised what Verdun ought to have taught them earlier,—that in the matter of heavy guns they were inferior to the Germans, and that this inferiority crippled their offensive power.

The Turkish equipment was not comparable to ours. But so far we had made a wretched use of our superiority in men and material in that area. The Staff seemed to discourage victories in the East, regarding them as an exaltation of strategical heresy, and therefore an abomination. On all other Fronts the Central Powers were better equipped, having regard to the task in front of them, than the Allied forces. The last remnant of the Roumanian Army was being battered into impotence by a more powerful artillery than their own. The Russians were inferior in every mechanical arm and their transport was deplorable. The army of entrenched Germans, Austrians, Bulgarians, and Turks, looking down from the Balkan heights on their foes in the Macedonian plain, were infinitely better equipped for their purely defensive rôle than were the Allied Expeditionary Army for the offensive they must sooner or later undertake, if victory were ever to be achieved in that battle area. On the Italian Front, Cadorna’s artillery was inadequate to the part entrusted to it of shattering defences blasted out of Alpine rocks. The Allies had therefore still a good deal to do before they attained the necessary mechanical advantage over the Central Powers.

The imminent collapse of both Roumania and Russia would give definite advantage to the Central Powers in man power. To attain an appreciable superiority in equipment, and thus to fill up the deficiency in man power which would be created by the gaps already yawning in the East, would demand intensified activity on the part of the Allies. The brunt of this burden must fall on the two greatest engineering countries in the Alliance—Britain and France, with such help as we could afford to purchase in America.

An additional reason for increasing the Allied output of munitions in their own factories and workshops was the growing difficulty experienced in financing Allied orders abroad. The supply of this increasing demand meant a further drain on a diminishing reserve of man power, at a time when the armies were short of men to fill up their depleted battalions. A survey of our available resources for all these purposes, at and behind the Front, left no doubt that the best use was not being made of our manhood and that a thorough national reorganisation was required if we ever hoped to pull through the years ahead of us with success.

But beyond everything it was becoming a contest of national morale. All the nations involved in this colossal struggle were supremely courageous races with a long military tradition behind them. All their tribes were fighting tribes. Not one of them would give in readily; certainly not as long as their armies presented an unbroken front to the foe. Even a series of shattering military defeats had failed so far to induce Russia, Belgium, Roumania or Serbia to capitulate. A breakdown on one side or the other of the rival nations would come from some cause which would wear out the spirit of their people. Hunger alone could effect such a collapse. Much would depend on the quality and efficacy of the appeals, written and spoken, that would be made in order to stimulate and sustain the courage and constancy of the armies and the people behind them. But the history of sieges demonstrates that it is only a small number of indomitable men and women who can long endure the daily spectacle of privation amongst those whose natural protectors they are. In considering our problems, the question of food supplies took a foremost place in the rank.

The first half of the War demonstrated clearly how vital were transport on sea and land and the supply of munitions to a successful prosecution of the War. The second half of the War brought home to all the belligerents the fact which ought to have been obvious before, that an adequate supply of food, not only for the troops, but for the civilian population, was an essential condition of their continuance in the War. The final event depended more on food than on fighting. The drain on man power, and the concentration of transport on the provision of war material and the carrying of it to the various Fronts, were already having a serious effect on food supplies. When I took over the supreme War Direction in December, 1916, I found Russia on the point of falling to pieces owing to food shortage. The munition problem there had by no means been solved, but it had considerably improved, and in spite of huge losses there was no lack of fit men to fill up the gaps. But the supply of food for the cities and for certain sectors of the Front had broken down completely, and in the grimmest of Russian winters millions of householders, from lack of sustenance and fuel, were shivering many degrees below the freezing line. To these hungry and chilled multitudes and their soldier sons, brothers and husbands, Revolution was not only acceptable, but inevitable. It was the only alternative to famine. A sufficiency of food and fuel might have kept Russia in the War right to the end, no longer perhaps a steam roller, but at least a stone wall.

Austria was also suffering more and more severely from the lack of food. The Hungarian harvest of 1916 had been a calamitous failure; 1917 did not make up the deficiency. Not only wheat but milk and meat were also becoming scarcer. The shortage contributed to the readiness of Austria to make peace. It was one of the decisive factors in her final surrender. In the field her armies were still unbeaten on foreign soil when the collapse occurred. The turn of Germany was obviously coming. Germany was passing through the terrible “turnip winter.” Her potato crop had failed and the population had to fall back on turnips. The food distributed per head in Germany during this winter had a calorific value of only half the minimum necessary to keep the population in health. We are told that by 1917 the output in the German mines and munition factories was suffering considerably as a result of the decline in the physical fitness of the workers.

It was becoming a war of starvation. In the end meagre and mean feeding at last subdued the spirit that had for four years of sanguinary battles proved indomitable on every battle front. Food in all the belligerent countries was therefore at the end of 1916 becoming a growing, and as it turned out, a paramount element in the chances of victory. They were all beleaguered nations.

So far in Britain, France and Italy, there was no actual privation suffered by any section of the people owing to food shortage. The command of the sea was still in Allied hands and the corn lands of the earth were still open and available to Allied cupboards, not in sufficient quantities to fill them, but just enough to prevent the boards from becoming bare. But the submarine had introduced an element of increasing precariousness to this food supply. Once sea transport failed—and it was failing rapidly—the resistance of the Allied armies would collapse. All nations were becoming confused and disillusioned by the prolongation of sacrifice and horror with indecisive result. A touch of hunger might convert disillusionment into disaffection. Food was at the very root of national morale, and in a protracted struggle between equally brave nations morale is the decisive factor. That is why, when it became my duty to survey the whole area of the War and the conditions which would determine its final result, I realised that the “feeding of the multitude” was a matter of supreme moment. I had, as a matter of fact, come to that conclusion over a year ago, and quotations I have already given from my interventions and proposals on this question at War Councils in 1915 and 1916 are a proof of my concern that we should take timely steps for the provisionment of the nation.

In a war of this order, sea power was the key to ultimate victory so long as either party could manage just to hold their own on land. If we maintained control of the seas without actually breaking on shore, the Central Powers could in the end be starved into surrender. Before reaching the point of actual starvation, such privations could be inflicted on their population as would destroy their morale. Had our armies been on their soil, the spirit that bids men die rather than give in to the invader of their native land would have sustained them. But no people will die of hunger rather than relinquish conquests of foreign territory. Potential famine was therefore the most powerful weapon in the army of the belligerents. As long as Britain kept her rule over the waves, neither she nor her Allies could be beaten by any shortage of food or essential material for waging war. On the other hand, the Central Powers could not win if they were cut off from the resources of the Great World outside. It was a ruthless calculation, but war is organised cruelty. Those who think they can restrict its barbarities will find in the end that savagery is of its essence and that civilised warfare only means that men have changed the instruments and methods of torture. The sum total of the agony inflicted on mankind by war was never as great as it proved to be in the World War of 1914-18. Men, women and children all suffered the horrors of war. The deaths behind the fighting lines owing to the effects of underfeeding and bad feeding were more numerous than those of the slain in the stricken field.

When Verdun and the Somme had both failed to achieve a military decision, the belligerents were confronted with a war of starvation.

For us the most serious and urgent element in this situation was that of our dwindling shipping resources. The sea was the jugular vein of Allied vitality. Once that was cut, the Allied strength would soon be drained of its life blood. To quote a contemporary report submitted to the War Cabinet in the first days of its deliberations: “The whole cause of the Allies depends upon the maintenance of sea power. The communications of the armies in the East and West can only be carried out by sea, and nearly every one of the Allies at the present moment depends upon sea-borne supplies not only for the armies themselves, but for raw material for munitions, and for the essentials of life of the civil population as well.”

There was a serious shortage of shipping for the pressing needs of the Allies. Essential drafts for Allied Armies in Salonika, Egypt and Mesopotamia were held up because there was no transport available. Railway material which was urgently required behind the line in France could not be taken across for lack of ships. Ammunition for some of our armies had to be cut down (although ships had to be found to transport forage for the Cavalry Divisions that were always fit and ready to complete the great rout that was forever impending on the Western Front). Our food supplies could not be replenished for the same reason. The position in all these respects was precarious. Italy was in dire need of coal for her munition works, but the deliveries were 800,000 tons short of her requirements because we had no available ships to carry the fuel. Italy’s already inadequate supply of ammunition was thus still further diminished for lack of British shipping. The submarine attack on our shipping had inflicted serious losses during the last few months. The new submarine monster was gliding everywhere through the deep in search of prey—defenceless prey. Allied ships were being stricken down in increasing numbers. We seemed impotent to protect our ships and their devoted mariners. Since the beginning of August, some 675,000 tons of British shipping had been sent to the bottom of the sea. On the other hand, we were making no real effort to build new vessels and the output of our yards had decreased by sixty-six per cent. The shortage was not altogether due to the lack of tonnage, but was largely attributable to the fact that the use we made of our available shipping resources was unbusinesslike and consequently very wasteful. The control and distribution of our shipping was exceedingly profitable to certain shipowners, but ruinous to the Allied cause. Whilst we were short of transport for essential war purposes and even for the food of the people, millions of tons were thrown away on superfluous luxuries, carried at ruinous freights. They ought to have been cut out of the national life during a great war. Only half our shipping was under Government control. The rest was left free for the haggling of the market, and in a war-restricted market the haggle became an exaction. One consequence of this was that a very considerable number of our ships were still trading between South American ports, where the freights were extravagantly high because of the scarcity of ships. The ports were also congested and the defective arrangements for loading and discharging cargoes caused considerable delays, thus diminishing still further our transport capacity. The fifty per cent. of our shipping which was under Government control was by no means used to the best advantage, the Admiralty more particularly having far too large a reserve of ships for emergencies which never arose, thus immobilising ships which would have been invaluable if they had been used for urgent war services. The railway system was clogged with nonessential traffic. This got in the way of vital needs, adding to deficiencies and delays. Unless action were immediately taken to improve the transport situation on sea and land, there was a real danger that the maximum effort which was essential to the attainment of victory would never be achieved.

The most serious result of the shipping position was the fact that our food supplies were also in jeopardy. As I have already pointed out, our margin was a very narrow one. Harvests had failed, not merely in this country and on the Continent, but in the Argentine, and the nearest abundant supply was to be found in Australia. That meant long voyages for our dwindling Mercantile Marine. At home, in spite of the appeals made by both Lord Selborne and his successor, Lord Crawford, no steps had been taken by the late Government to increase production. The yield of our soil was steadily diminishing. During the last twelve months the wheat production of this country had fallen off by about one sixth. Unless some steps were adopted without delay to bring more land into cultivation, and to increase the fertility of that which was capable of cultivation, then there would be a further grave diminution in the quantity of food raised in these islands. That meant either privation or a further inroad on our already overburdened shipping.

As soon as the War Cabinet entered upon its functions, it caused a careful and searching survey to be made of the national position in respect to all these urgent problems. As to many of them, the report presented to us showed that the late Government had decided in principle that some measures should be taken immediately to cope with the difficulty, but in each case the report ended with the words “No Action Taken”.

A Government that had surrendered to the Allied military strategy which had decreed a war of attrition had neglected to take the necessary steps to prevent the wearing-down process going against us. If it was too late to alter the military strategy, there was still time to see that we did not fall in the fight through sheer exhaustion, whilst the foe had still enough strength to stand and wield his sword. Our gravest problem was one of reconstruction and concentration so as to make our resources last out longer than those of our adversaries.

In the account I gave in my last volume of the episode of the Lansdowne Memorandum, I recorded the fact that the Asquith Government had come to the unanimous conclusion that it would be a disastrous mistake to enter into peace negotiations with Germany before inflicting a complete defeat upon her armies.

Although Lord Curzon in a speech delivered in the House of Lords referred to “the glorious and noble victory of the Somme”, the phrase was recognised at the time, especially by those who knew the facts—soldiers and civilians—as a merely characteristic piece of fustian. The Allies had completely failed in the main purpose of their attack, and the Germans had actually withdrawn troops from the battlefield at the crisis and climax of the offensive against them, in order to stage a more triumphant offensive of their own in a region which was removed hundreds of miles from the Somme terrain. At best the battle ended in a stalemate, which meant a check for the Allies, as far as their main objective was concerned.

Nothing had therefore happened to alter the situation since the Asquith Cabinet decided in November not to encourage or countenance peace negotiations.

An opportunity soon arose for giving a practical application to that decision. Early in December, 1916—a few days after I became Prime Minister—the German Government issued its famous Peace Note.

Although summaries had appeared in the Foreign Press for days, the full text of the Note was not communicated to the Allied Governments until the 18th of December, when the American Ambassador delivered it, at the request of the German Government, at the Foreign Office. Lord Robert Cecil, who was acting Foreign Secretary in the absence, through illness, of Mr. Balfour, reported to the War Council that the American Ambassador, in transmitting the Note on behalf of the German Government, had indicated that the United States Government would deeply appreciate a confidential intimation in advance of the proposed reply by the British Government to the Note, and that his Government itself intended to make representations on the subject at the appropriate moment, and had for some time had such intention independently of the German Note.

As there has been some hostile comment in censorious circles upon the Allied replies to this German Peace approach, it would be well here to reproduce it in full. These replies have been represented as the spurning by the Allies of a favourable opportunity for making a satisfactory peace. Unless the tone and the terms of the document are read carefully, it is not possible for anyone to come to any just conclusion as to the attitude adopted towards it by the Allied Powers.

This was not the language of an enemy suing for peace after a crushing defeat in the field, or of a foe conscious that on the whole the tide was beginning to turn against him, or even of an adversary who realised that although he had no fear of being beaten, nevertheless, if the War continued, both parties in the end would be ruined. It was rather in the nature of an overture from a Power conscious of the unbreakable strength of its armies, boasting of a succession of resounding triumphs against its enemies and of its ability to hold its own in future against every effort to dislodge its grip on the vast territories it had conquered, but anxious to cast upon its enemies the responsibility for prolonging the War. German statesmanship, which was entirely under military control and direction, had three objects in view when it launched this peace offensive. The first was to reconcile that part of the German population who were beginning to feel that brilliant victories without number brought nothing but heavier burdens, more and more privations, and mounting casualties to the triumphant Fatherland. It was necessary to convince these that ultimate victory was the only alternative to an unsatisfying peace. The second was to persuade neutral countries which were becoming increasingly hostile to Germany and also the people behind the Governments of belligerent countries, that the prolongation of the War was due entirely to the bloodthirsty stubbornness and insatiable ambition of Allied Governments. The third was to enter into peace negotiations whilst military conditions were more favourable to Germany than to the Allies, the German Armies being quartered in Allied territory and on the whole having beaten off the assaults made on their positions there on every Front.

With a view to enabling the Cabinet to inform itself fully of the position before discussing the character of the reply, the Secretary of the War Cabinet was instructed to circulate to its members the papers prepared during the discussions of the late Government in connection with possible terms of Peace, conditions of an Armistice, and negotiations at the end of the War. Steps were also taken to ascertain the views of both Allies and Neutrals on the subject of the Note itself. It is interesting now to peruse the reports which came in. They indicate the reaction in each country, and the views and opinions formed at the time by belligerents and neutrals, as to the purport and bona fides of the German communication.

The French attitude was definitely suspicious of the Note. It was expressed by M. Briand in a speech in the Chamber on December 13th, 1916. He declared that it was his bounden duty to put France on her guard against a peace which was really an attempt to split up the Allies. Surveying the situation, he showed that, despite German successes in the past year, France, which had supported almost alone the terrible weight of the attack in 1914, had more reasons than ever for confidence in her conviction of the certitude of victory. Germany, in throwing out peace proposals, proclaimed at the same time her victory; and in truth Serbia, Belgium and Roumania were at present invaded and the crime not yet expiated. Germany might declare that she did not want war. But she was the aggressor, and France, victorious at Verdun, would not walk into the trap of these peace proposals.

M. Jules Cambon thought the Allies should traverse the German assertions, and say that a peace offer without terms was not genuine. In his opinion it would be better for France to take the lead in answering, and a conference to settle the reply would be unnecessary and inadvisable.

In view of what happened later, the attitude of Russia towards the German peace overtures has an interest of its own. The Russian answer was inspired by the Duma and not by the Czar alone. The Russian Duma decided in favour of making peace “only after victory”. M. Pokrovsky, the Foreign Minister, pointed out that there was nothing in the German Note to suggest that the peace the Central Powers were prepared to make would be satisfactory. “What are the circumstances in which the German proposal was made? The enemy armies have devastated and occupied Belgium, Serbia, and Montenegro, and a part of France, Russia and Roumania. The Austro-Germans have just proclaimed the illusory independence of a part of Poland, and are by this means trying to lay hands on the entire Polish nation. Who then, with the exception of Germany, could derive any advantage under such conditions by the opening of peace negotiations? . . . To attempt at the last moment to profit by their fleeting territorial conquests before their domestic weakness was revealed—that was the real meaning of the German proposal. In the event of failure, they will exploit at home the refusal of the Allies to accept peace in order to rehabilitate the tottering morale of their populations.”

“Another motive,” M. Pokrovsky continued, “might be a hope of exploiting elements of cowardice amongst the Allies. But Russia would fight on for a peace of victory. All her sacrifices would be in vain if a premature peace were concluded with an undefeated Germany.”

Communications from the Russian Foreign Office to us confirmed this attitude, while suggesting that we should not flatly refuse to make peace, but insist that peace must be made on our terms. Discussion as to the form of the reply could take place in London or Paris.

Baron Sonnino, the Italian Foreign Minister, was of opinion that the Germans hoped for a direct refusal, and suggested that the German claims and assertions should be refuted, and that they should be challenged to declare their terms. The Allies could consent to no annexations by the Central Powers, and Italy would not agree even to the status quo.

Belgium favoured a conference to draw up an identical reply. This should not be a flat refusal to make peace, but a refusal to negotiate without knowing the German proposals.

Japan stated that she could not accept the status quo ante.

The Neutral countries were all of opinion that it would be a mistake for the Allies to reject outright the German peace offer.

From the United States our Ambassador, Sir C. Spring-Rice, telegraphed, reporting:

In Switzerland the Foreign Minister thought that complete rejection might exasperate the German population and intensify the ruthlessness of the War.

Opinion in Holland was to a similar effect.

The Swedish Foreign Minister viewed the German Note as a manœuvre, which should be met by a demand to table proposals, rather than by flat refusal.

At the Vatican, Cardinal Gasparri was of the opinion that the Germans should be asked to state their terms, and if they should prove impossible, the moral advantage would rest with the Allies in continuing the struggle. He said that he had reason to believe that the German terms would be moderate.

The general tenor of opinion among the Allied and Neutral countries was opposed to any reply which would imply a point-blank refusal to negotiate. But opinion was practically unanimous that Germany should be asked to state her terms. It is significant that the Vatican also took this view and expressed the belief that the terms would be moderate. The Vatican was suspected of being pro-German. It would probably be nearer the truth to say that the majority of the Cardinals had Austrian sympathies. The Vatican reply would therefore be influenced by representations received from Vienna. But Vienna was not Berlin and their interests and ambitions were not identical.

At its meeting on December 18th, 1916, the British War Cabinet had before it all the foregoing information. It was agreed that it would be best for the Allies to concert an identical Note in reply to the German Note, and that this should be signed by them all in Paris, and handed by the representative of France to the American Ambassador. The Note should refute the statements made in the preamble of the German Note, and state that a general offer of peace, without defining terms, was useless. Decision as to its other contents was left over, pending the consideration of a draft reply which M. Briand was reported to be preparing.

Photo. by Clinedinst, Central News Service, N.Y.

PRESIDENT WILSON

As an indication of the attitude of the British Government at that period, I quote two passages bearing on the German Note from the first speech which I delivered in the House of Commons on the 19th of December, 1916, after a Cabinet discussion of its tenor:

The following quotation from Mr. Asquith’s reply will demonstrate the unity of the nation on this German move:

No protest was entered from any quarter of the House against the character of our reply. The Pacifist group, led by Mr. Ramsay MacDonald and Mr. Snowden, uttered no word of criticism.

On the following day, the 20th of December, the United States Ambassador communicated to the Allied Governments President Wilson’s own Peace Note.

This document began, after protestation of its friendly spirit and purpose, with a disclaimer of any association with the peace overtures of the Central Powers. The President then went on to suggest that each of the belligerents should table their views as to the terms on which the War could be concluded and its recurrence prevented. He said that according to their published declarations, all the belligerent powers had the same object. “Each side desires to make the rights and privileges of weak peoples and small States as secure against aggression or denial in the future as the rights and privileges of the great and powerful States now at war. Each wishes itself to be made secure in the future, along with all other nations and peoples, against the recurrence of wars like this, and against aggression or selfish interference of any kind. . . .” To attain these and similar ends, a satisfactory peace must first of all be concluded. The United States was also vitally interested in an early peace settlement, and the President therefore urged an exchange of views on peace terms, which had not as yet been publicly stated.

In conclusion, President Wilson stated that he was not himself proposing peace terms, or offering to mediate, but merely proposing the taking of soundings, to find out how near we might be to attaining peace.

This document was considered by the War Cabinet on the 21st of December. It was published in the Press on the following day. On December 23rd it was again considered and arrangements made for drafts of suggested replies to be prepared by Lord Robert Cecil and Mr. Balfour. There was also before the Cabinet a draft reply prepared by M. Briand to the American Note. But this was set aside as too vague and too evasive. We were of opinion that the Allied reply should be explicit and candid. There must be no doubt left in the minds of belligerents or Neutrals as to the objectives for the attainment of which the Allied countries were prepared to make further sacrifices if necessary.

It so happened that an Anglo-French Conference was due to be held three days later in London, to discuss a number of matters connected with the War, including the situation in Greece and Salonika, and the problem of unity of command in the West. Advantage was taken of this occasion to discuss with the representatives of France the replies to the German and American Peace Notes.

The conference took place on the 26th, 27th and 28th of December, 1916. MM. Ribot, Thomas, and Berthelot had come over from France to confer with us. M. Briand was unable, through indisposition, to be present. M. Berthelot stated the personal view of the French Premier.

In the discussion on the reply to Germany, doubts were expressed by us as to certain passages in M. Briand’s draft. A fresh text was submitted by M. Cambon, the French Ambassador, and approved after revision. This ultimately became the note agreed to by all the Allies, with the addition of a further passage specially relating to Belgium.

In its ultimate form, the reply of the Allied Powers to Germany was handed by the French Government to the United States Ambassador in Paris on December 30th, 1916. It was signed on behalf of Russia, France, Great Britain, Japan, Italy, Serbia, Belgium, Montenegro, Portugal and Roumania.

It began by rebutting the assertions in the German Note that the Allies were responsible for the War, and that the Central Powers were now victorious, and it went on to declare the devotion of the Allies to peace. But, it added:

After recapitulating the steps by which the Central Powers had forced on the War, and pointing out that the War map of Europe alone gave no true picture of the strong military position of the Allies, the Note pointed out that penalties, reparations, and guarantees were required from Germany. The German Note was declared to be only a device to stiffen public opinion among the Central Powers, mislead the Neutral Countries and justify in advance fresh crimes of submarine warfare, deportations and forced enlistment of alien peoples. The Note proceeded:

No peace was possible until reparation could be secured for the violation of national rights, and a settlement achieved which would prevent a repetition of such outrages.

In conclusion, the Note dealt with the case of Belgium, and Germany’s violation of its neutrality and cruel treatment of its people. Peace terms must assure that country legitimate reparation, guarantees, and safeguards for the future.

This was the reply to the German Note. The Anglo-French Conference then proceeded to discuss the nature of the reply to be made to the United States President.

The opinion was against separate notes. On this, the French were emphatic. As to the contents of a joint Note, Lord Robert Cecil reported that Mr. Page, the American Ambassador, had told him that morning that the majority of people in America were in reality friendly to the Allies, but that we had not been able to get the spirit in which we were fighting across the Atlantic. Mr. Page urged us to treat the United States Government in the most open way possible.

Mr. Balfour thought we ought to say that if the War were to end without restoration of Alsace-Lorraine to France, without the union of unredeemed Italy with the Italian Kingdom, without the inclusion of the Serbian people within Serbian boundaries and of the Roumanian population within Roumanian boundaries, without something being done to satisfy Polish aspirations and to free Christian populations from Turkish tyranny, the New Year would begin under unfavourable auspices. He would like to add, as coming especially from Great Britain, that in these results the Government and people of the British Empire had no more direct and immediate interest than had the United States. They would obtain from them neither territory nor revenue; neither military strength nor commercial opportunity. But failure in these matters would imperil the prospects of those great ideas of international relationship to which the President had given so noble an expression.

The joint reply, communicated to the American Government on January 10th, 1917, declared, after expressing respect for the lofty sentiments inspiring the American Note, that the War could be ended satisfactorily only on terms promising a just and durable peace. The suggestion in the American Note that the aims of belligerents on both sides were the same was refuted by the undeniable history of the struggle, and the violation of the rights of small nations in its course by the Central Powers. Reference was made to Belgium and Luxemburg, Serbia, Armenia, Syria, Zeppelin raids, submarine atrocities, Miss Cavell and Captain Fryatt, and other items in the catalogue of German crimes.

In reply to President Wilson’s request that the Governments should formulate their peace terms, the Note enumerated the following items as matters which must be dealt with in any settlement:

Belgium, in addition to signing this Note, sent a further reply of her own, drawing attention to the treatment she had received from the Germans, and protesting that she could accept no peace which did not repair these damages and give security for the future.

In conjunction with the dispatch of the Allies’ reply, a Note was sent by Mr. Balfour, the Foreign Secretary, to be communicated by the British Ambassador at Washington to the United States Government. This dispatch consisted of an explanation and commentary upon the Allies’ Note.

Mr. Balfour emphasised the point that any peace settlement must be of a nature to cure the evil conditions which had precipitated the War. That involved a revision of the map of Europe, the expulsion of the barbaric Turkish Government, and the abolition of the German military machine. If a peace were signed which left German military power unimpaired in the midst of a weakened and exhausted Europe, it would be even less secure than the peace existing before the War.

International treaties were in themselves no remedy, as the fate of Belgium had shown. A powerful nation could stand aloof from or tear up such treaties. If action of that kind were crowned with success in this War, it would be hopeless to try and banish it afterwards by new international treaties.

Mr. Balfour suggested that this policy was in harmony with the President’s declared ideas, and said that we were prepared to go on making unparalleled sacrifices of blood and treasure, not to score a barren triumph over another nation, but to make possible the achievement of such a settlement.

Our replies to America and Germany constituted the first occasion on which the Allies had given to the world a complete outline of the terms of settlement they meant to enforce. The whole of the Versailles conditions were sketched out with unmistakable implication: the restoration by the enemy countries of all provinces conquered by force of arms and annexed against the wishes of the inhabitants; self-determination to be applied to subject races on the basis of nationality; reparations and indemnities to be claimed from Germany; steps to be taken which should prevent a repetition of the outrage of 1914 upon international right and peace. Mr. Balfour, in a pregnant sentence, forecast a League of Nations backed by the irresistible might of international sanction.

All the replies made clear to the world the united resolve of the Allied countries not to make peace until the power of Prussian militarism had been broken.

These documents had an undoubted influence on the course which America took during the next few weeks. They brought her intervention on the side of the Allies appreciably nearer. There is no doubt that the Allied answers to the German and Wilson Note favourably impressed American public opinion, and there was a perceptible change in the atmosphere across the Atlantic from that date.

Apart altogether from the intrinsic merits of the Allied demands, there was a personal element which cannot altogether be excluded. President Wilson was a sincere idealist and he was a man of exalted purpose and convictions, but he was also a man of deep and fierce resentments where his pride was offended or his purpose was crossed. There were indications that he was not too well pleased with the way the Germans had anticipated his peace offensive, and cut in front of him with their Note, after he had given them privately an intimation that he meant to approach Europe on the subject of peace negotiations. He was still more ruffled at their scornful neglect to give a considered answer to his Note. On the other hand, there is no doubt that he was propitiated by the trouble the Allies took to send without delay a careful, deliberate and detailed answer to his appeal, first of all by a detached and separate examination and then by summoning into conference the leaders of the Allied nations, to give to his questions the most specific answer that was possible at this stage of the War. One cannot rule out the effect of this personal deference on a man of his temperament and susceptibilities, when we come to examine the motives which prompted him so soon to abandon the attitude of “too-proud” pacifism upon which he had fought and won his way for a second term to the presidential chair.

The German reply to President Wilson’s Note was only given on January 31st, 1917, in a confidential Note written by Ambassador von Bernstorff to Colonel House, a month after the publication of the Allied reply. It was as follows:

This letter, with its intimation that Germany would demand annexations and indemnities from France and Russia, suzerainty over Belgium, and the cession of part of the French and British colonial Empire, accompanied by an announcement of unrestricted submarine warfare, was no peace overture. Italy was ignored, except in so far as it was included in the phrase about Austria demanding similar terms to those upon which Germany insisted. It was a challenge to a fight to a finish, and as such the United States had reluctantly to construe it.

What must be the sensation of a man who took a leading part in the direction of this tremendous War and undertakes to recall these events with their horrors, their perils and their amazing escapes? It is like that of a traveller who revisits dangerous rapids through which once upon a time he helped to pilot a boat without a map, without knowledge, and without experience to guide him or any of the crew as to the course of the river, its depths and its shallows, its sharp and unexpected bends, the strength and whirl of its current, or the location of the hidden rocks in its channel.

The stream that had then to be navigated was necessarily one that had been imperfectly explored. In writing these Memoirs I have been walking steadily along the banks from the first speeding of the waters down past the delirious fury of their torrent.

I am now approaching the narrowest and the most threatening gorge in the mad voyage, with one particularly jagged rock right in the middle of the stream and to all appearances barring the way. In the end it was the German boat that crashed against it and was broken to pieces, but I shudder to think that this experience was almost ours. The submarine campaign proved the ruin of Germany. It is a horrifying thought that it very nearly achieved the destruction of Britain’s sea power, with all that such a disaster would have meant to the fortunes of the Alliance and of humanity.

We were all too apt, on looking back upon Germany’s submarine campaign, to regard it as one of her most fatuous blunders. It is true that it turned out to be the fatal error which precipitated her ultimate defeat. But it was a miscalculation only by a margin which might have been on the other side. There were weeks when the German leaders had truthful reports which gave them confident assurance of success, while giving Britain and her Allies cause for an anxiety which at one stage reached the depths of alarm. There were times when some of our most cautious leaders thought we might be beaten and that we would do well to make peace whilst our ships were afloat.

Soon after the Marne it became evident to the more discerning minds in Germany that complete victory was unattainable as long as the command of the sea was vested in Britain, and that it was not impossible that the Central Powers might be blockaded into premature surrender unless the trident could be wrested out of Britain’s hands. Rome understood that supreme factor in a war with a maritime power. Napoleon never quite apprehended it. But in Napoleon’s days, Continental populations were smaller and all European countries were more self-sustaining, and the standard of necessaries was much lower. War itself was more intermittent, the material it demanded for its activities was infinitely less. Neither did it absorb as many men on the battlefield or behind the fighting lines. France at that time could not therefore be starved into submission. On the other hand in this War, the Germans began to realise they could not go on indefinitely unless the blockade were broken. They were already restricted in some essentials like copper, oil and rubber for the Army, and in some of the necessaries, many of the comforts and most of the luxuries of life for soldiers and civilians.

Now that, owing to the stupidity of their opponents, the weakest flanks in the defence system of the Central Powers in the East and the Southeast had been so strengthened as to give Germany confidence that their military situation was established beyond immediate anxiety, both the military and naval authorities turned their thoughts more and more towards the question of blockade. It was a double problem—first that of breaking their own blockade and then that of reversing the situation by becoming the blockaders instead of the blockaded. Had an immediate military decision been within their reach, they need not have worried about the strangle hold of the British Navy. But the failure of the Marne, of the first battle of Ypres, and lastly and notably the check they had sustained at Verdun, had almost convinced their Headquarters that they could not break through the Allied Front in the West. The equally disastrous and much more sanguinary repulses sustained by the Allied forces in their various efforts to rupture the German lines—defended as they were by only two men for every three assailants—strengthened that conviction. It was therefore becoming more and more a struggle of endurance. Here the naval clutch of Britain gave the Allies a decided advantage. The High Command and the Admirals of Germany, therefore, considered separately and together the problem of breaking and if possible of reversing the blockade. Army Headquarters naturally thought first of the possibilities on land. The conquest of Roumania was a definite help. But it did not fill the widening gap between need and supply. It brought the Central Powers oil and corn in great but not sufficient quantities. Russia, it is true, provided them with unlimited opportunities. Here vast supplies of corn, oil and copper awaited conquest and exploitation. This, however, would take time. The Russian Army had first of all to be cleared out of the way and then some sort of order restored in a revolutionary country. Moreover, Russian transport was very deficient and had to be considerably improved. Something had to be done immediately. The population of Germany was already on diminished and inadequate rations. Whilst German resources were being gradually restricted and German reserves exhausted, the riches and resources of the world were open to the Allies. A blow must therefore be struck at their communications by sea. That was the conclusion to which the German leaders came.

It was some time before the Germans discovered what a formidable weapon they possessed in the submarine. At first, they relied on cruisers and mines and other accepted and established methods of attack on our mercantile marine.

I am not sure that the submersible ship was to the Admirals who strode on the quarter-deck of mammoth battleships anything more than a fanciful experiment. They never took it very seriously as a real contribution to the struggle for the control of the seas. At best it might perhaps help the ships of the line as an invisible scout, and maybe, by lucky accident, cripple or with extreme luck sink one or two stray enemy warships. When the last roving German cruiser had been beached in a mangrove swamp in Africa, in order to escape capture, the German Admiralty put more faith in the little swordfish which had already destroyed more enemy ships in a month than the cruisers had succeeded in sinking during the whole of their glorious but short-lived career. When they realised the power of this invention they set about building submarines on a great scale and constructing much larger types.

The old type of submarine with its limited oil capacity could not venture much beyond the Channel and the German Ocean. Its voyage was restricted in time as well as distance. The new cruiser type could drive out into and right across the Atlantic. The first example of this new menace was launched in June, 1916, and it crossed the ocean up to American territorial waters. In leaving, it committed the folly of sinking five vessels outside the Nantucket lightship. It was a characteristic sample of Prussian psychology. It was meant to intimidate America into complacence. It roused the spirit of growing antagonism to, and apprehension of Germany which ended in war. Germany was elated over the success of her adventure. Her leaders reckoned that the depredations of the new type of submarine would be so successful that, even if America came into the War, by the time she had raised, trained and equipped an army, there would be no shipping available to carry her troops to Europe. Were they so far out in their reckoning?

There can be no doubt about our alarm at this new development. When these bigger boats multiplied, they prowled round all the approaches to Britain’s shores, from the Bay of Biscay to Iceland, they glided about in every corner of the Mediterranean, and the sinkings, which were practically all by gunfire, increased at a rate which produced consternation. The Admiralty chart of the waters to the north and the south of Ireland, as well as in the chops of the Channel, became blacker and blacker with the plague spots of submarine activity. The sinkings on the Mediterranean route were also on the increase. Our anti-submarine plans were completely baffled and stultified, for the new submarines were able to operate hundreds of miles into the Atlantic beyond the limits of the areas patrolled by our vessels, and we were short of torpedo boats, even for the Narrow Seas. Our great battleships had to be protected from attack and this necessarily absorbed our best destroyers. In those days I could not help thinking of the efforts some of us made before the War to induce the Admiralty to spend some of the large sums they proposed to allocate to the building of super-Dreadnoughts on the construction of more destroyers. During the last four months of 1916, the gross tonnage of our sunken ships totalled 632,000 tons. The German Admiralty reckoned that unrestricted warfare would soon enable them to sink up to 600,000 tons a month and that four months of such losses would find the Allies suppliants for any tolerable peace.

On February 1st, 1917, stimulated by the success of the new type of submarine, the German Government with its new submarine fleet launched its deadliest blow against this country and the Allies which depended on our shipping, by adopting the policy of unrestricted submarine warfare. All mercantile shipping proceeding to and from Allied ports was to be sunk on sight without warning. Germany hoped, and not without reason, that four months of such warfare would make inroads upon the vital sea-borne supplies, not only of this country, but of the Allies, on a scale which would force us incontinently to sue for peace.

Was it a wild conjecture at the time? As early as the end of 1915 we were short of sufficient shipping tonnage to transport essential supplies for our forces and those of the Allies and for our own and our Allies’ population. During 1916 the position became considerably worse.

As soon as Germany intensified her submarine campaign in the early autumn of 1916 and sinkings began to increase, the prospect became so gloomy that Mr. Runciman, as President of the Board of Trade, warned the Cabinet that at the rate the Allied and Neutral shipping was being swept from the seas, we could not carry on much longer.

At a meeting of the War Committee held on November 9th, 1916, Mr. Runciman told us he had come to the conclusion that “a complete breakdown in shipping would come before June, 1917.”

No sooner had the Committee adjourned than he wrote a memorandum in which he said that he had revised his estimate as to the probable date of the breakdown, and that in his judgment he thought it must come much sooner.

In a further memorandum which he sent to the War Committee on November 22nd, 1916, Mr. Runciman pointed out that the urgent need of the moment—so urgent that the feeding of Italy, France and the United Kingdom next summer depended upon it—was sufficient tonnage for the carriage of the Indian and Australian crops.

Then he added the very disquieting sentence: “Free tonnage for this purpose is not in sight.” They needed one hundred vessels per month during November and during each of the succeeding five months. And yet, he informed us, at the end of four weeks’ effort, the Transport Department had succeeded in securing less than thirty vessels.

He also added as an explanation for the desperate view he took of things that all his calculations had been drawn “on the assumption that we should not hesitate to kill commerce in order to make ends meet.”

He based his estimates on the further assumption that the losses through submarines next year would continue at the rate of the first eight months of 1916. If the import of munitions material were increased, and the losses by enemy action depleted our merchant navy in an increasing degree, our plight would become graver.

As a matter of fact, our losses for the last four months of 1916 were 632,000 tons gross—more by 32,000 tons than the total losses of the first eight months, and the Germans were every week putting more and more of their new cruising submarines into the sea.

As I have already related, in 1916 we were building new ships at the rate of 52,000 tons per month, and losing through submarine action twice and three times as many per month. From the way things were going, the Allied forces could not be equipped with the overwhelming mechanical superiority which was essential to enable them to smash through fortified positions held by a skilful and brave enemy. Equipment in this country could only barely be kept up, let alone increased, at the expense of adequate food supplies for the Allied population. Italy was suffering severely in the matter of munition supply, owing to lack of shipping. The deficiency could not be made up without further imperilling our own food position. It was the failure of the German Government to feed its own people that provoked the discontent which reduced and ultimately broke their morale. The Germans calculated that they could inflict these demoralising privations on the Allies before corresponding hardships had time to disaffect their own civilian population. It was not so rash a calculation when the actual figures of sinkings and resources come to be examined.

Was there anything in the success or efficiency of our naval operations against the new submarine menace up to that date which would justify us in assuming that we could cope with it adequately?

Temporary relief could have been achieved by the withdrawal of all our forces from the Mediterranean and Mesopotamia. The General Staff would have hailed such a movement with joy as a triumphant vindication of their own foresight. Every catastrophe has its compensations for somebody. If the world crashed to its doom according to the Almanac, its compiler would have one thrill of satisfaction. But a withdrawal from the Mediterranean, including Egypt, would not have brought much comfort in the end, even to the Staffs. We should thus have been saved tonnage equal to one month’s sinkings in the unlimited submarine campaign, but at what a cost! The pressure on the Austrian and Bulgarian resources in the Balkans, which with the collapse of Turkey was the beginning of the end in 1918, would have been withdrawn. Austria would have been free to organise, anticipate and exploit Caporetto. We should have withdrawn altogether from our struggle with the Turk. That would mean that we should have acknowledged to the world and in the very eyes of the East that the Turkish Empire with German help had finally beaten the British. The Suez Canal and ultimately Egypt would have been undefended and must have fallen into Turkish hands. In fact, we should have sustained a more disastrous defeat at the hands of the German submarine than Bonaparte endured when the British Fleet cut off the communications between France and Egypt at the Battle of Aboukir. And the sacrifice would not have saved us in the West if the submarine menace had not been overcome. Even if we had been able to guard and secure the passages of the Channel, that would not suffice if we were unable to protect the ships that brought us food and raw material for our munitions from distant shores to the ports of Britain, France and Italy. America would have been cut off with her essential supplies and later on with her armies.

By the end of 1916, the British mercantile shipping destroyed by enemy action—mainly by submarines—amounted to 738 vessels, with a gross tonnage of over 2,300,000 tons; nearly one fifth of the total British tonnage existing at the outbreak of the War. At the end of 1916 we were short (as our shipping was then handled) of well over fifty per cent. of the tonnage required for imports of what the President of the Board of Trade reckoned to be our irreducible needs. No wonder he thought we could not continue the War much longer. And in spite of these persistent and heavy losses, in spite of their steady and alarming increase, in spite of the fact that the Admiralty knew they might at any time become very much heavier if the Germans resorted to the unlimited warfare which they had threatened as far back as February, 1915, no counter-measures had been prepared which even began to exercise any restraining effect.

Admiral Jellicoe wrote to the Admiralty towards the end of October, 1916—that is, three months before the date of the German warning of unrestricted sinkings—that there appeared to be “a serious danger that our losses in merchant ships, combined with the losses in neutral merchant ships, may, by the early summer of 1917, have such a serious effect upon the import of food and other necessaries into the Allied countries as to force us into accepting peace terms which the military position on the Continent would not justify, and which would fall short of our desires.”

And Admiral Beatty declared that the danger was “jeopardising the fate of the nation and seriously interfering with the successful prosecution of the War.”

The reports from the First Sea Lord and the President of the Board of Trade at each of our Committees were models of unrelieved dejection. They formed a part of the litany of every War Committee.

How did the Lords of the Admiralty propose to cope with the menace which was gradually strangling the power of the Allies? In another chapter I propose to tell the dismal story of the way the President of the Board of Trade confronted his share of the problem. In a memorandum to the Asquith Government in November, 1916, the Admirals reported:

“Of all the problems which the Admiralty have to consider, no doubt the most formidable and the most embarrassing is that raised by submarine attack upon merchant vessels. No conclusive answer has as yet been found to this form of warfare; perhaps no conclusive answer ever will be found. We must for the present be content with palliation.”

That is to say, we do not see how the patient’s life can be saved, but we can prolong his agony—perhaps ease it a little!

This paralytic document was written over two years after the submarine had begun its devastating activities. The Germans had not yet put a great number of these large submarines in the water, neither had they started their campaign of indiscriminate destruction. When the above report was penned by a trembling hand we were losing ships at the rate of 175,000 tons a month. When the numbers of the large submarines had doubled, and the unrestricted sinkings began, the destruction of tonnage mounted up until it reached the figure of 526,000 tons in a single month for British shipping, and 867,000 tons for British, Allied and Neutral shipping together.

What constituted the difference between the selective methods of the submarine campaign as it was prosecuted before February, 1917, and the indiscriminate attack which ensued after February, 1917? When the submarine had to ascertain, before it let loose its destructive charge, the flag under which ships sailed, it took time to make sure of the nationality of a vessel, especially in thick or rough weather. It also involved hesitation and doubt on the part of the commander, who might get into trouble if by chance he sank an American ship whilst he thought he was aiming his shattering torpedo at a British or a French vessel. A few minutes of hesitation and delay often enabled a ship to escape from its assailant. It also added to the risk of a counter-attack from the guns of the menaced vessel. But when the orders were to sink every vessel that rode the waves under whatever flag it sailed, there was no hesitancy and consequently no time lost. The result was that three ships were sunk for every one that was destroyed before the new decree came into operation.

It was quite clear that unless some means were adopted, either to protect the ships or to destroy their destroyers, or both, there would hardly be enough vessels afloat at the end of the year to provide the Allied populations with sufficient food to keep them alive, let alone providing the Allied Armies with an adequate equipment to smash the entrenchments of the enemy. How long would they be able to furnish the means for maintaining their own defences? If Allied shipping continued steadily to disappear at this accelerating rate, the end was not distant. As the Admiralty were in a condition of utter despair at the prospect of either effecting destruction of the submarine or affording protection for our ships, there is nothing surprising in the cry that came from the hearts of men whose caution exceeded their courage: “Let us agree with our adversary quickly.”

One of the most lamentable effects of the new submarine campaign was the marked increase in the casualty list amongst our sailors. When a ship was sunk by gunfire, the sailors had to take to the boats, whatever the weather. Even when the disaster occurred within a few miles of the coast, the risks were considerable, but when the ship was sunk in the Bay of Biscay or out in the Atlantic, scores of leagues from any shore, the chances of escape were precarious, and in bad weather few lived to tell the tale. It was one of the new cruelties which this conflict added to the practice of war. The old piratical plank was more humane. The agony was not so prolonged. The German plea in defence of their action was to point to their children starved by our blockade. War is a cruel business.

Was there any justification for the pessimism of British Admirals of high degree? The “Official Naval History of the War”, in referring to the failure of the Admiralty to hunt down the submarine, states that up to the beginning of 1917, “Our effort, whether considered as attack or defence, had been not only inadequate but wholly ineffective.”^[2] In home waters and the Mediterranean about three thousand destroyers and auxiliary patrol vessels, and trawlers and motor boats had been employed in chasing submarines. From January, 1916, to February, 1917, they had caught only seven. A few others had been struck by mines and lost or disabled through weather conditions. But the total loss of German submarines during the past twelve months from all causes was only twenty-five, almost entirely of the smaller type. It was known that the Germans had been building more and larger submarines, and that since July they had been putting a succession of submersible cruisers into the seas. It is not too much to say that our Grand Fleet had a lively apprehension of this hidden terror. It would not put out to sea from its boomed and steel-netted shelters without an adequate escort of destroyers, of which, for all purposes, including the time for refitting, it was considered that at least one hundred were required: below this number the Commander-in-Chief said he would be incurring an unjustifiable risk in the event of meeting the German High Seas Fleet. No capital ship could leave its base without a patrolling and protecting escort of small craft. If Britannia ruled the waves, she did it with a shaky trident in the days before the submarine was overcome. After the Battle of Jutland, Admiral Jellicoe came to the conclusion that it was not safe for his imposing Armada of enormous Dreadnoughts “to undertake prolonged operations to the South of the Dogger Bank”, as the risk of mines and submarines was too formidable. They were not to enter the southern end of the North Sea unless they were forced to do so by direct challenge from the German High Seas Fleet. Meanwhile, the flagship must be interned in safe creeks, the flag had to be carried on the small craft, the nimble destroyers and the weather-beaten trawlers. Here is the “Nelson touch” up-to-date.

That was the atmosphere of crouching nervousness, even before the Germans had launched more than a few of their latest specimens of submarine cruisers.

No attempt was ever made by our powerful Navy to turn its great guns on the submarine nests of Flanders. When I ventured to suggest such an idea, it was turned down peremptorily.

In the absence of an effective plan for grappling with this threat to our existence as a sea power, there was every reason for Admiral Jellicoe’s gloom. And he certainly had no fresh suggestions for coping with the emergency. On page 84 are official figures supplied to me from the Shipping Department of the Admiralty in July, 1917, showing the prospect in front of us if the convoy system failed and if the destruction of our shipping continued at the same rate as it had proceeded during the first two quarters of the year.

According to the President of the Board of Trade we had a serious shortage in November, 1916. Where should we be in November, 1917, if this havoc continued? These figures will show that the submarine was the crucial problem upon which the issue of the War would depend. If we failed to counter its ravages, the Allies were irretrievably beaten. And the new submarine cruisers were being turned out rapidly from the German shipyards and launched without delay on their destructive errand. The West Atlantic, the Bay of Biscay, and the Mediterranean became charged with hidden destruction for our merchant ships. A ship passing through the waters surrounding Britain was in the predicament of a swimmer in a shark-infested sea.

At the meeting of the War Cabinet on May 25th, 1917, the First Sea Lords gave information which had been obtained in connection with submarines from the captain of a German submarine, who stated that the whole of the shipbuilding resources of Germany were now concentrated on the building of submarines; that the output would eventually reach twenty a month; that there were approximately three hundred German submarines now in commission; that there were no difficulties as regards obtaining crews for these submarines, which were taken from the men of the High Seas Fleet, trained in a special school for two months, and after three weeks’ submarine cruise were considered competent.

Had we not found some means of dealing with the menace not then visible to the fear-dimmed eyes of our Mall Admirals, who had before the War been thinking of naval warfare in the terms of gigantic Trafalgars between super-Dreadnoughts (with three to two in our favour), and had we not put into operation ideas which never emanated from their brains and some of which they resisted, others of which they delayed, the German reckoning would have been accurate. Their 600,000 tons per month estimate of losses was exceeded in April, 1917, when 886,610 tons of Allied and Neutral tonnage were sunk.

As soon as the new Administration was formed, the submarine problem was one of the first we took in hand. It was clear to us that the stunned pessimism of the Admiralty would be justified unless some more effective measures could and would be taken to baffle and quell the submarine. If we failed to achieve this aim, we realised that the War would inevitably be lost to the Allies, and that before long.

We considered several suggestions for coping with the situation, some of which I had already submitted to the War Committee, and which now had the powerful support of the new Shipping Controller:

The measures taken under (b), (c), (d), (e), (f) and (g) will be related in other chapters. I propose now to deal with the story of the amazing and incomprehensible difficulties encountered in inducing the Admiralty even to try the convoy system. I take this first because it was the expedient which, when it was ultimately adopted, had the most immediate and ultimate effect in reducing the sinkings. It was also the plan which roused the most implacable and prolonged resistance on the part of the Admiralty. It is especially difficult to understand their prejudices in this respect, because after Trafalgar the main function of our ships-of-war was to convoy our merchant vessels through seas infested with French privateers. Convoying was therefore in accordance with the traditions of our Navy in its greatest days.

The first effort made to overcome their blind obstinacy had occurred on November 2nd, 1916, at a War Committee attended by Admiral Sir Henry Jackson, who was then First Sea Lord, and Vice Admiral Sir H. F. Oliver, then Chief of the War Staff at the Admiralty. Sir John Jellicoe left the Grand Fleet and travelled specially to London at the Prime Minister’s request to attend this meeting. The question of submarine attacks by gunfire on merchant ships was considered, and a statement was made as to the increase in the loss to the Allied and Neutral merchant ships due to submarine activity. It was stated that the most serious feature in the situation was that we were not building ships or obtaining the use of interned or captured enemy ships rapidly enough to make good our losses.

Then a discussion was initiated by Mr. Bonar Law and myself on the question of the possibility of establishing a convoy system. Sir John Jellicoe’s answer was that he did not approve of convoys, “as they offered too big a target.” In the course of further discussions on the subject, in reply to Mr. Bonar Law, Admiral Sir Henry Oliver said that they convoyed in the Mediterranean, so did the French and the Italians; but that they found it did not do to send more than one ship at a time under escort. The French had tried more and lost two or three of their ships.

I then suggested a dozen ships being convoyed by three ships-of-war. Sir John Jellicoe said in reply that they would never be able to keep merchant ships sufficiently together to enable a few destroyers to screen them. It was different with warships, which they could keep in a lock-up formation. Mr. Runciman added that, looking at the principle of convoy from the point of view of tonnage, it was most wasteful. There was no advantage in speed, as a convoy must move at a pace regulated by the slowest ship.^[4]

Here is the official Minute of the decision come to by that War Committee, in spite of the protests entered by Mr. Bonar Law and myself:

Although the President of the Board of Trade said that convoying would be uneconomical owing to loss of time, he did not mention the loss of time occasioned by ships being held up because there was submarine activity off the ports. Nor did he mention the loss of time by the ships having to steam considerable extra distances to keep out of the submarine danger zone. Incidentally, this made it very difficult to bunker them at Port Said. In effect, his last argument meant that it were better for a ship to be at the bottom of the sea than arrive late, besides which, the more ships that failed to arrive, the less would be the congestion at the ports.

I seem to have asked Sir John Jellicoe if he had any plans against the German submarines that were now working in the open seas. Sir John said that he had not. They had only armed merchant ships and these could not act offensively because they did not see the submarines. He suggested having floating intelligence centres to direct the routes of the shipping, if found needful.

There was then a long discussion as to the advisability of the defensive arming of merchant ships. Sir John Jellicoe here was of the opinion that it provided the most effective means of protecting ships against submarines. The conclusion we arrived at on this point was that it was a question of the first importance to increase the production of these guns. The Minister of Munitions undertook to make further enquiries on the subject, and it was arranged that a conference should take place between the experts of the Ministry of Munitions and the Admiralty at an early date.

This “question of first importance” remained a question for the next few weeks; after which the new Government took it energetically in hand.

The extent to which the submarine was likely to limit the tonnage at the disposal of the Allies was illustrated by a Report which was communicated to this Committee during its proceedings. Lord Grey informed the War Committee that he had seen the French Minister at Christiania, who had stated that, according to his most recent information, Norway was likely to yield to Germany and was already calling in all her ships. We were told that Norway had already lost thirteen and one-half per cent. of her total mercantile marine during the present War. The withdrawal of the Norwegian ships from the transport of Allied material would have been a serious blow, but the incident shows clearly the extent to which the fear of the submarine was intimidating even the bravest seafaring nations.

But during the first months of 1917, the Admiralty could not bring itself to change its tactics.

In January, 1917, Admiralty opinion was as emphatic as ever against convoys. An official pamphlet issued on behalf of the Admiralty in that month declared that:

“Whenever possible, vessels should sail singly, escorted as considered necessary. The system of several ships sailing together in a convoy is not recommended in any area where submarine attack is a possibility. It is evident that the larger the number of ships forming the convoy, the greater is the chance of a submarine being enabled to attack successfully, the greater is the difficulty of the escort in preventing such an attack. . . .”

The “Official History” states that this pamphlet accurately recorded the collective opinion of the Board of Admiralty, “for the minutes of those high officials who were more particularly concerned with the defence of trade are all expressive of the same, or nearly the same, view.” The Director of the Trade Division, Sir Richard Webb, was against convoys. The Director of the Operations Division, Sir Thomas Jackson, was inconclusive. Admiral Duff, the Director of the Anti-Submarine Division, was definitely opposed. Sir John Jellicoe agreed with the latter and so did the rest of the Board of Admiralty.

I have since discovered that while the pamphlet referred to above may have represented the view taken by the Admiral in charge of the British Submarine Service, it was written and issued without taking into account the views of serving officers. There were at the time in the Admiralty, papers from experienced submarine officers explaining why it was difficult for a submarine to attack a convoy.

The Admiralty regarded the escorting of shipping as quite out of the question, and the only strategy it could devise to oppose the submarines was to arrange for four cone-shaped approach routes for shipping to use when coming to this country, the cones pointing respectively to Falmouth, Berehaven, Instrahull (N. Ireland) and Kirkwall, and the stretch of sea inside each cone near this country being patrolled. The method proved a complete fiasco and indeed a death trap. The presence of our patrolling craft notified German submarines of the areas where shipping might be expected, and the concentration of vessels in a comparatively small area enabled the U-boats to reap a rich harvest in a short time. In particular, the cone off the southwest coast of Ireland was rapidly becoming the grave of British shipping.

This is the description given to me by the Shipping Controller of the disastrous plan:

“Ships would be ordered by the Admiralty to certain points which seemed quite known to the Germans, who had submarines lying in wait, sending down ship after ship.

“Possibly it may help your memory if I remind you about the sugar ships which were brought to one point in the Atlantic and sunk one after the other, until (I think I am right) we had not more than one week’s supply of sugar in the country.”

There were occasions when a ship reached this zone at a point where a naval ship was expected to be awaiting them, in order to indicate the exact route, but there was no guiding warship to be found. These were the “floating intelligence centres” alluded to by Sir John Jellicoe at the War Committee. The “centres” were often floating elsewhere than at the point where they were needed, so the “intelligence” was not available. Sometimes wireless messages were sent by perplexed ships, asking for directions. These messages were picked up and decoded by the Germans, so that when the poor merchantmen arrived at the point indicated in the wired orders, they found not a guide, but a pirate awaiting their arrival.

In fact, by this egregious plan, our ships were in effect often shepherded into the abattoir where the slaughterers lay in wait for them.

Looking back, it seems amazing that the system of escorting our ships in convoys was not adopted earlier. Yet in the teeth of the fact that other methods were proving futile and disastrous, and our sinkings were increasing at an alarming rate, the Admiralty stubbornly refused to consider adopting the convoy system and thus extending to the mercantile marine the same guardianship as that upon which they relied for their own safety in the Grand Fleet.

Several considerations influenced their judgment. Some of them I have already stated. But there were others equally fallacious and more fantastic. The expert advisers of the Admiralty at this time were labouring under a set of surprising delusions. The foremost of these was that the steamers of the mercantile marine could not be relied upon to “keep station.” In a convoy they would therefore bump into the escort or each other, to the common danger of all; or perhaps, in order to avoid this mutual ramming, they might disperse, lose sight of each other and of their escort, and in wandering about to recover touch, would become easy victims for the prowling swordfish of the Germany Navy. They completely underestimated the seamanship of the experienced mariners who steered the tramp through all weathers across the wild and foggy seas that surround and lead to these islands. No voyager who has witnessed a heavily laden tramp successfully battling through the breakers in a Bay of Biscay storm would doubt the capacity of the sailors who manned these buffeted and swamped vessels to handle them with complete efficiency, whatever the demand. It surprised me to find that the captains of the liners who were first consulted by the Admiralty shared Sir John Jellicoe’s doubts as to the capacity of the small tramp to keep station. It is simply the arrogant sense of superiority which induces the uniformed chauffeur of a Rolls Royce to look down on the driver of what is contemptuously stigmatised as a “tin Lizzie.”

The Admirals were thus sure, in defiance of all historic evidence, that vessels travelling together in a convoy would be exposed to greater peril than if they travelled singly. They greatly overestimated the number of men-of-war that would be needed by a convoy. “The opinion which at the time prevailed at the Admiralty,” says the “Official History”, “was that, if merchantmen were placed under convoy, then the escort would have to be twice as numerous as the ships escorted. The Admiralty’s advisers did not share that view, which was not then uncommon, that a comparatively weak escort would suffice.”^[6] What an amazing miscalculation!

But of all their delusions the most astounding was that which concerned the number of British vessels sailing the high seas and needing escort. This was not some obscure and disputable issue that could be determined only by risky experiment. It was merely a matter of available statistics accurately added up. The blunder on which their policy was based was an arithmetical mix-up which would not have been perpetrated by an ordinary clerk in a shipping office. It nevertheless bewildered the Sea Lords and drove them out of their course for months. Common sense or reference to Lloyd’s register and a sum in simple addition would have given them the facts. Up to the middle of 1917 there was no one on the Board of Admiralty who possessed this triple qualification. Here is the fateful error in accountantship which nearly lost us the War, and might have done so, had no one pointed it out in time to the Sea Lords.

For some time past the Admiralty had by order of the Government been in the habit of publishing week by week the number of vessels lost by submarine attacks. And in order to make this dismal news sound as hopeful as possible, they had issued with it a return supplied by the Customs Authorities of the number of vessels that had entered and left British ports during the week. To swell this number, every entry and exit was counted, including the numerous goings and comings of coastwise small craft of the smallest dimensions, passing from harbour to harbour on the coast, so that it reached a figure of about twenty-five hundred weekly entrances and as many clearances. Probably these figures did not deceive the German High Command, though they doubtless served to encourage Neutrals and depress the enemy populations. Unhappily, they also deceived our own Admirals! A moment’s reflection would have told them that nothing approaching twenty-five hundred deep-sea vessels could be concluding voyages to this country every week. As a matter of fact, the actual arrivals and departures of ocean-going ships were between one hundred and twenty and one hundred and forty a week. The Admiralty never examined their grotesque figures. On these calculations they were right in concluding that it would be quite impossible to furnish escorts for convoying the merchant shipping that entered and left our ports, as its volume, according to their fantastic estimate, far exceeded anything the Navy could deal with.

Thus, on the one hand we had a confident Germany launching its deadly offensive against our shipping, and on the other hand we had a palsied and muddle-headed Admiralty declaring that nothing effective could be done to counter it.

On February 1st came the announcement by Germany of the policy of unrestricted submarine warfare. The U.S.A. was notified in a memorandum which stated that:

“From February 1st, 1917, sea traffic will be stopped with every available weapon and without further notice in the following blockade zones around Great Britain, France, Italy and the Eastern Mediterranean. . . .”

The zones, as defined in the memorandum, covered all the seas and oceans surrounding the British Isles, France, Belgium, Italy, except a small part of the Mediterranean bordering Spain.

With the effect of this announcement upon America I will deal in another chapter.

During its opening weeks, the new submarine campaign seemed as though it would justify all the hopes of those who had gambled upon it. In the first week of February, 1917, thirty-five vessels, British and foreign, were sunk in the English Channel and its western approaches. In the course of February and March the number of British merchant vessels lost through enemy action (mainly submarine attacks) was 232, with a gross tonnage of 663,000 tons. In April, our shipping losses for that one month alone were more than 526,000 tons. In addition, upwards of 200,000 tons of Allied and Neutral shipping were being sunk every month.

The effect on the Admiralty was to stun and not to stimulate. But even now they would not listen to the idea of convoying ships. They were like doctors who, whilst they are unable to arrest the ravages of a disease which is gradually weakening the resistance of a patient despite all their efforts, are suddenly confronted with a new, unexpected and grave complication. They go about with gloomy mien and despondent hearts. Their reports are full of despair. It is clear they think the case is now hopeless. All the same, their only advice is to persist in the application of the same treatment. Any other suggestion is vetoed. Their professional honour is involved in not accepting remedies which they have already refused to consider. What makes it difficult to persuade them to try an obvious cure is that it had been urged upon them by civilians and turned down by the experts with scorn and derision. Have you ever heard of doctors who admitted that physic prescribed by unregistered practitioners was more efficacious than their own; and that they were wrong all the time and the quacks right? These specialists were at the head of the profession. How could you expect them to own up to those who had called them in and trusted them, that their treatment was inferior to that which herbalists and bonesetters had recommended? Bearing this professional sensitiveness in mind, we must not criticise too harshly their reluctance to admit their well-nigh fatal error in refusing to apply the convoy system. Their stubbornness grew with every aggravation in the case they were mishandling so crassly and so cruelly.

But what ought the War Cabinet to have done in the face of this official refractoriness? When it is a matter of life and death, it is a serious matter for amateurs to interfere and recklessly exercise their authority by over-riding the opinion of the most famous specialists that are available in the Kingdom. How much greater an act of temerity would it be were it a question of the life and death of a whole nation! You could, of course, call in another specialist. But who was there whose reputation stood as high in naval councils as Admiral Jellicoe? Admiral Beatty had won some fame as a first-rate fighting sailor of the dashing species. He was of the “well done, Condor” type. But not even to-day would the majority of naval officers rate his judgment as equal to that of Jellicoe, who had only just been brought in because his predecessor was not successful in his anti-submarine measures. Jellicoe had to be given a fair trial. I decided that it was worth spending some time and patience in winning over Jellicoe to the views held by Mr. Bonar Law, the Shipping Controller, Sir Maurice Hankey, and myself. We could not take too long over the process, for our ships were being destroyed at an alarming rate.

I urged the First Lord of the Admiralty, Sir Edward Carson, to insist on the convoy system being tried. Personally he favoured a trial being made, but told me he had no official support from any quarter in his department. The experts were unanimously and stubbornly opposed to the experiment. It was the same old story. Official self-esteem and reputation were involved. The experienced and distinguished sailors had committed themselves to a definite and unqualified opinion, not only in their own special sphere of influence, but outside to all sorts of civilians, shippers, statesmen, and others. They had delivered to each and all their “considered opinion” that convoying was impracticable and dangerous to convoyers and convoyed alike. Why waste time on ridiculous and risky experiments?

Sir John Jellicoe and Admiral Oliver were both able men with an unparalleled knowledge of the technique of their profession. They were both men whose caution and prudence gave their judgment weight. To quote the Welsh version of a well-known text, their “slowness was known to all men.”^[7] With the phlegmatic Briton, slowness of mind is apt to be taken as an indication of soundness of judgment. But when you are confronted with a situation for which there is no precedent and where therefore experience does not count as much as inventiveness, audacity and celerity of decision, such men are a hindrance to effective action. Their experience often tangles them. And on the other hand, their thorough knowledge of the details of the business and their high reputation give them authority, which it is difficult for the amateur to set aside or to challenge. In an emergency the able but unimaginative expert is a public danger. In dealing with them, Sir Edward Carson’s forensic gifts could not be brought into full play. He could hardly cross-examine his First Sea Lord and show him up in the presence of his colleagues as if he were a hostile witness. A peremptory order might produce the resignation of the whole Board. A serious crisis might thus be precipitated. Sir John Jellicoe stood high in the Navy. What was to be done? It was arranged that the First Lord of the Admiralty, the First Sea Lord and I should have a confidential talk on the position. I invited both of them and Admiral Duff, the head of the Anti-Submarine Department, to breakfast at Downing Street on February 13th, 1917. I submitted to them a memorandum as a basis for our discussion. This memorandum, which was prepared by Sir Maurice Hankey after several consultations we had on the subject, carefully examined the arguments for and against the adoption of the convoy system, and strongly urged that it should be put into practice as the most effective means of combating the acute peril of the German submarine attack. The following are extracts from this document:

The memorandum proceeded to examine the objections to the convoy system, and to set against them the far more serious objections to the system then practised. It continued:

Out of twenty thousand mines in store at that date, on examination it was found that only fifteen hundred were of any use. As one of our sailors said, when his ship accidentally bumped against one of these dud mines without an explosion: “Good old Vernon. If hit with a hammer he won’t go off.”^[8]

Before the War, the Board of Admiralty had concentrated so much on big and still bigger ships that they neglected essential weapons like mines, armour-piercing shells and torpedoes—all of which were inferior to those manufactured by the German. They neglected even to provide us with sufficient small craft. The cost of one Dreadnought spent on the provision of additional destroyers would have made an appreciable difference at this date, when we were short of patrolling and coasting vessels.

The memorandum resumes:

The breakfast discussion, which lasted two hours, evoked a restatement of the Jellicoe objections against convoys, with which we were already familiar. The First Lord promised, however, to summon a representative delegation of captains in the mercantile marine in order to ascertain their views as to the practicability of the convoy system. He also undertook to abide by the result of two experiments in escorting which had recently been initiated. The first one was between Britain and the Norwegian ports and the other between British and French ports.

But it took time to establish the efficacy of these experiments. Meanwhile the Admiralty were confirmed in their views from the fact that the Norwegian experiment in its initial form was not a success.

The fact that the experiment was not a systematic convoy, was imperfectly organised and was therefore not given a fair chance, was not taken into account. It was not a success and the Admirals “had told us so.”

On the other hand, the French convoy trial was proceeding satisfactorily. The coal shipments from England to France had been very severely attacked during the latter part of 1916, and the French asked us to arrange for their escort. It was a great piece of luck for Britain that the task of organising the control was entrusted to a very intelligent young officer who had not been afflicted with hardening of the professional arteries. The Allied cause owes much to Commander (now Admiral) Henderson. With the aid of a small force of armed trawlers he carried out a scheme of daily convoys along three routes, making for Brest, Cherbourg, and Havre. The first experiments in this method began on February 7th, 1917, and during the three months, March, April and May, 4,013 ships were convoyed across those dangerous waters with a total loss of nine vessels—only one in every 446.

This was a very encouraging result. But the indirect effect of the experiment was still more valuable. In order to carry out his work, Commander Henderson found it necessary to make frequent visits to the Ministry of Shipping to consult its officials about sailing arrangements, and they worked harmoniously and well together. Meantime his practical experience in the organisation of convoys led him to the conviction that they were by far the safest way of bringing ships through the danger zone. He found that the larger target offered by a convoy was no more vulnerable than each single ship would have been. A submarine could not count on firing more than a single “browning shot”^[9] as it was at once attacked by the escort and, in addition, if surfaced, by the guns of the convoyed vessels; and wireless warning to the escort would enable the whole convoy to be diverted from a point where a submarine was known to be operating. Further, the convoy also served the purpose of bringing the submarine to the destroyer instead of the destroyer having to range the Atlantic looking for a periscope.

Henderson made various enquiries from several different departments of the Admiralty in an effort to find out the volume of our overseas trade and the point of origin, but could get no satisfactory information from them. So he tackled the Ministry of Shipping, and was referred to Mr. Leslie (now Sir Norman Leslie, K.B.E.), a shipbroker who had offered his services to the new Ministry, and who, with Mr. (now Sir Arthur) Salter, had built up a card-index system to supply the information about shipping and shipping movements which in peace time is obtainable at Lloyds. It was Commander Henderson who found, without surprise, that the Admiralty’s statistics of the number of vessels arriving and leaving our shores were grotesquely misleading. Arrivals of ocean-going steamers in the United Kingdom and Channel ports were only about twenty a day, of which fifteen came to the United Kingdom; that is, there were not twenty-five hundred weekly, only one hundred and forty. The actual number of ocean-going vessels could easily be handled under convoy arrangements.

The Ministry of Shipping took up with enthusiasm the idea of developing a convoy system, and Mr. Leslie coöperated with Commander Henderson in working out the lines upon which such a scheme could be run. The Shipping Controller, Sir Joseph Maclay, repeatedly pressed that convoys should be given a trial, but the Admiralty persisted in opposing it in every shape and form. One morning, as the Controller was entering the Cabinet room, he met Jellicoe coming out. The Admiral stopped him and told him that he had had a consultation with twelve mercantile captains and that not one of them favoured convoys. This step had been taken without any consultation with the Ministry of Shipping and without affording Sir Joseph Maclay any opportunity of advising us as to the choice of captains, or of meeting the mercantile masters who were chosen and talking the matter over with them. It was highly probable that the form in which Admiral Jellicoe put the question might make the seamen fear that they could never carry out properly the station-keeping and joint manœuvring that membership of a convoy demanded, for he himself was firmly convinced that none but naval men could manage it. When this report was triumphantly presented to me, I was not told that the Shipping Controller had not been consulted as to either the names or the class of ship that ought to be represented at the gathering, and that officers of the smaller tramp were not deemed fit for so exalted a conclave.

In the spring of 1917 the losses amongst vessels sailing to Norway were again so serious that early in April a conference was summoned at Longhope to consider how to protect the Scandinavian trade. The naval officers at that conference were unanimously of opinion that instead of the loose and defective system of protected sailings hitherto adopted for these ships, they ought to be placed in regular convoy. Their report came to the senior officers, who were by no means so unanimous; but Admiral Beatty strongly supported them and urged the extension of the convoy system to other shipping. The report of the Longhope Conference was considered by the Admiralty on April 11th, and they agreed as an exceptional measure to allow convoys to be run experimentally for the time being in the Scandinavian trade. Between April and December, 1917, some six thousand vessels were convoyed between Norway and the Humber, with a total loss of about seventy ships, or just over one per cent. In March and April, I awaited the result of the French experiment and of the arming of merchantmen in increasing numbers. I was hopeful, after the interview I had with Jellicoe and Duff, that more energetic steps would be taken. In this matter I was disappointed.

The attitude of the British Admiralty at that time is well illustrated by the interview which took place in April between the First Sea Lord and Admiral Sims, of the United States Navy. When it seemed probable that the United States would enter the war, Admiral Sims was dispatched to London to get into touch with the British Admiralty. He reached Liverpool on April 9th, and proceeded at once to London, where he met Admiral Jellicoe. Here is Admiral Sims’ account of the amazing interview which took place between them:—

On April 22nd, 1917, Jellicoe submitted to the War Cabinet a long memorandum on “The Submarine Menace and Food Supply.” It declared that the increasingly heavy losses of our merchant ships by mine and submarine called for immediate action, and the adoption of such measures as were possible; but when he came to make recommendations for this desperately needed action he declared that “The only immediate remedy that was possible was the provision of as many destroyers and other patrol vessels as could be provided by the United States of America.” Pending further means of attacking submarines, the only palliative was more small craft to keep them as much as possible submerged. He did not even hint at convoys as a possible remedy. He enumerated the various methods of attacking submarines that were being attempted and admitted that the mines then used were worthless.

Meantime, sinkings were proceeding at such a pace that out of every one hundred long-voyage steamers which left this country, twenty-five failed to return. At this rate, Germany’s expectation of bringing us to our knees by August did not seem so improbable an inference to be drawn from the actual facts.

Admiral Sims definitely favoured convoys. Writing on April 19 to his Government, he reported the British methods in use and their failure and expressed his dissent from the Admiralty view that convoys were impracticable.

The situation was anxiously discussed by the War Cabinet in three sessions of 23rd and 25th of April. In alluding to the recent serious shipping losses, I referred to the possibility of adopting the convoy system, which, I said, was favoured by Admiral Beatty and by Admiral Sims.

The first Sea Lord reported that the matter was under consideration, one of the chief obstacles to adopting such a scheme being the shortage of torpedo-boat destroyers. He stated that there was some prospect of American destroyers being sent to assist us, and that six had already been ordered to leave for this country. A much larger number would, however, be necessary, before any scheme of convoy could be introduced. He mentioned that the trial of the convoy system by the Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Fleet had not been altogether successful, two vessels in separate convoys having already been torpedoed and sunk.^[10]

The First Sea Lord undertook to make a further report on the matter to the War Cabinet.

This shows the characteristic attitude of our naval advisers. The matter was still “under consideration.” If two vessels out of some scores or hundreds convoyed were sunk in a month, it seemed a more dreadful thing to the Admiralty than the loss of a score of unescorted vessels in a single day, even though they were just as dependent on our Navy for their protection.

It was clear that the Admiralty did not intend to take any effective steps in the direction of convoying. After first discussing the matter with Sir Edward Carson, I informed the Cabinet that I had decided to visit the Admiralty and there take peremptory action on the question of convoys. Arrangements were made accordingly with the Board that I should attend a meeting to investigate with them all the means at present in use in regard to anti-submarine warfare. I stipulated for the right to send for any officers, whatever their rank, from whom I desired information.

Apparently the prospect of being overruled in their own sanctuary galvanised the Admiralty into a fresh inquisition, and by way of anticipating the inevitable they further examined the plans and figures which Commander Henderson had prepared in consultation with Mr. Norman Leslie of the Ministry of Shipping. They then for the first time began to realise the fact which had been ignored by them since August, 1914, that the figures upon which they had based their strategy were ludicrous and that therefore protection for a convoy system was within the compass of their resources.

Accordingly, when I arrived at the Admiralty, I found the Board in a chastened mood. We discussed the whole matter in detail. We agreed to conclusions which I thus reported to the Cabinet.

The “complete accord” turned out in actual working to be a rather optimistic estimate of the situation. As my minute shows, neither Admiral Jellicoe nor Admiral Duff really believed in the principle of convoys, though they were willing to assent to a cautious trial of this expedient. They had been convinced against their will and at heart remained of the same opinion still.

The High Admirals had at last been persuaded by the “Convoyers” not perhaps to take action, but to try action. But there was a reluctance and a tardiness in their movements. They acted as men whose doubts are by no means removed and who therefore proceed with excessive caution and with an ill-concealed expectation that their forebodings will be justified by the experience. When anything went wrong with convoyed ships, it was reported with an “I told you so” air to the War Cabinet. I can find no minute where the First Sea Lord reported the unquestionable success of the system in cases where it was fairly tried. There was a Cabinet meeting held a week or two after the decision to experiment in convoying. It was attended amongst others by Admiral Jellicoe, Admiral Duff, Sir William Robertson and Commander Henderson. I listened to the Admiralty argument on the lack of escorts in the form of cruisers and destroyers, but I insisted on their giving a trial to the Gibraltar convoy. The First Sea Lord at this meeting held forth as to the necessity of maintaining the Grand Fleet destroyers up to the number of one hundred and the Harwich Force as constituted. He maintained that these destroyers were necessary to fulfil the Cabinet’s instructions given to the Admiralty and to the Commander-in-Chief in regard to battle with the German High Seas Fleet, and if destroyers were withdrawn, then the general instructions to the higher command must be revised.

Commander Henderson said that he considered that if convoys could be put into being forthwith, it would probably take Germany three months to discover the best method of locating and attacking, during which period we should have further time for thought and for construction.

After this discussion it was decided to try the first experimental convoy from Gibraltar to the United Kingdom. Ships from the Mediterranean to the East Coast were held up for four days from the 6th of May till the 10th, when a convoy of seventeen steamers started under the escort of two “Q” ships, the Mavis and Rule, which had been sent out from this country for the purpose.

It was not until the 17th of May—over three weeks after the Cabinet decision—that the Admiralty went so far as to appoint a Committee to study the question of regular convoys. This Committee sat for three weeks and went into the whole question of convoying minutely and with great care. They had to settle routes and the number of ships in each convoy—how to group them according to speed—the sailing instructions to be given. They had also to extort protecting craft from the Admiralty. It was a laborious process, for the Board were convinced that their torpedo boats were more usefully employed on other duties. In arriving at their final recommendations the Committee were helped by the success that attended two experiments.

The Gibraltar convoy was equally successful. But these disappointing successes simply irritated the Admirals into sullen recalcitrance. The Shipping Controller’s report states that:

“Although Board approval had been vouchsafed to the Committee’s scheme on the 14th June, it was in the letter rather than in the spirit, as the indispensable forces were not made available.”^[12]

The Controller reported this attitude to me, and I had to convey to the Admiralty in peremptory terms my disapproval of their conduct and they at last “consented to give effect to their own approval.”^[13]

On June 6th the Committee presented its report, setting out a detailed plan. The report was adopted and Paymaster-Commander Manisty made “Organising Manager of Convoys” (not “Director”, as is customary for heads of important departments): but he was given neither room nor a staff, and had to go round and “scrounge” for these as best he could. And although the report was formally adopted on June 14th, it was some time before the Admiralty could bring itself to scrape together the necessary escorting craft. Regular convoys only began to run from America on July 2nd, from Gibraltar on July 26th, and from Dakar on August 11th. Of the two hundred and seventy-nine destroyers in home waters, between twenty and thirty were allotted to convoy duties. The two hundred and seventy-nine included one hundred destroyers attached to the Grand Fleet, to watch over its cold storage at Scapa Flow, and Admiral Jellicoe claims some credit for having allowed from eight to twelve of these to be used during part of 1917 for trade protection on the convoy routes off the Irish coast. It was a grudging and mean allowance, when we were fighting for bare life against the strangle hold of the U-boats, and when an attack by the German High Seas Fleet upon our vastly stronger Grand Fleet was an extremely remote possibility. But there is no wrath like the cold fury of the professional spirit proved wrong by outsiders, and no folly comparable to its reactions under such conditions. In spite of everything, the convoy system proved a brilliant success. The Admirals were in despair over the refusal of events to follow the lead of professional knowledge.

To quote again from the Official Report of the Shipping Department, in reference to the convoys from the U.S.A.:

But we were not yet at the end of our troubles with the Admiralty. Here is another illustration of their stubborn hostility and of the effort they expended in circumnavigating us.

The difficulties experienced by the War Cabinet in handling this problem are inherent in all war operations when civilian opinion clashes with that of the experts. Naval science and strategy are matters very remote from the lay comprehension, and the aura of authority glistened round the heads of the Naval High Command. Whenever I urged the adoption of the convoy system, I was met, as I have related, with the blank wall of assertion that the experts of the Admiralty knew on technical grounds that it was impossible. That is a very difficult argument to counter.

A persistence of a few more weeks in their refusal to listen to advice from outside would have meant irretrievable ruin for the Allies. Neptune’s trident would have been snatched out of Britannia’s hands by the ravening monster of the great deep. It was not the first time in this War that the lesson was driven home—luckily in time—that no great national enterprise can be carried through successfully in peace or in war except by a trustful coöperation between expert and layman—tendered freely by both, welcomed cordially by both.

When individual cases of impeding and blocking were brought to my notice, I could exert the necessary pressure, but time was being lost and lost time meant lost ships and lost lives. So I made up my mind to effect a change at the top in the Admiralty. Obviously, unless I were present at the Admiralty every day to supervise every detail of Administration, it would be impossible for me promptly to remove all hindrances and speed up action. I therefore contemplated a change in the First Lord, Lord Carson, and the First Sea Lord, Admiral Jellicoe. They were both men of great influence and authority, and both possessed a formidable following, one political, the other naval. I discovered there were Parties in the Navy—the Jellicoe Party and the Beatty Party. Like most parties, their differences of principle were too vague for an outsider to grasp. But the more obscure the doctrine the more fierce the personalities.

As to Lord Carson, he was conscious of half-heartedness in his official associates. Their stubbornness wore him down by wearing him out. They were obstinate, slow and self-willed. Carson was not cut out for a mule driver. That was not his function in life. He had plenty of courage and independence of his own, but being new to administrative office, and especially to Admiralty business, he was very dependent on his official advisers and he shrank from seeking independent advice. Without that he was lost.

He could have obtained it without going outside the Navy for which he was officially responsible. He might have sought the opinion of men in the service. But his whole training was opposed to such a resort. In his profession he could only call into conference those whose names were on the back of his brief—second leaders, juniors and solicitors. To call another counsellor into the room and to take another into his confidence, was to imply distrust of his colleagues and therefore a professional disloyalty. He therefore only availed himself of the advice of the acknowledged Admiralty chiefs. The perplexity he was in and the impotence in which he was enveloped preyed upon his health. I have never taken the view that the head of a Government Department is forbidden by any rule of honour or etiquette from sending for any person inside or outside his office, whatever his rank, to seek enlightenment on any subject affecting his administration. If a Minister learns that any subordinate in his department possesses exceptional knowledge or special aptitude on any question, it is essential he should establish direct contact with him. The political head of a department has not merely the right, but the duty to send for anyone who will help him to discharge his trust to the public. That principle would apply to both the political and permanent heads of a department. Lord Carson did not see his way to adopt this point of view. The result was that although his natural shrewdness and penetration enabled him to perceive that things were not moving in the right direction, or as rapidly as they ought, he could not find out exactly the point where they stuck nor how to remove the obstruction and how to speed up.

Before I was called to the Premiership I was not in contact with the Navy and knew little of what was going on in that sphere. On the military side, the Ministry of Munitions brought me into direct touch with the problems of land warfare. Apart from that, I constantly met officers and men home on leave who had spent months at the battle front and had been taking part daily in the incessant engagements—great and small—of the campaign in Flanders or France. It is not merely a boast but a fact that I had more converse with fighting officers and men, untabbed with scarlet, straight from the trenches, than had any member of the Staff, either at General Headquarters or at the War Office.

When I met men possessing special knowledge and experience on any subject, it has been my habit through life to question them on the theme they know and like best. The information I thus acquire leaves a deeper and more inerasable impression on my mind than what is communicated to me in any other way. Much study is a weariness to the flesh, but conversations with a knowledgeable person stimulate and refresh and nourish one’s mind. Had I depended entirely on departmental chiefs, I could never have carried through my schemes of Old Age Pensions or Insurance. I know the importance of maintaining discipline in a department. Our public services are manned by some of the best and most competent men in this or any country, and it is essential to efficiency that their legitimate power and prestige in their respective spheres should be fully maintained. But freedom of access to independent information is quite compatible with order and due respect for the hierarchy, if that liberty is tactfully and judiciously exercised by the Minister and wisely acquiesced in by the service. There must be no appearance of flouting the men at the top. On the other hand, they must not make it impossible to act without forcing an open disregard of their authority.

When, as Prime Minister, I became responsible for the efficient administration of every department of the Government, I took every opportunity afforded me officially or unofficially of acquainting myself with the major questions which affected the conduct of the War in every branch of the public service. The Admiralty and the Shipping Controller brought to my notice all the problems arising out of the struggle on the high seas. The Shipping Controller soon formed a poor opinion of the Admiralty Board. But my most reliable inside information on the naval aspect of my problem came from another source. I was fortunate enough to obtain the same access to men who had seen active service on the seas as I had already secured in land warfare. I owe much to Commander Kenworthy for making me acquainted at this critical stage with the view of the younger officers in the Navy. I was introduced to Kenworthy through the good offices of the late Sir Herbert Lewis, who was then Parliamentary Secretary to the Board of Education. I met some of these junior officers and I realised that there was a school of highly intelligent naval men who were very critical of the High Admirals and their methods. They condemned severely their anti-submarine plans. They were scornful of their opinions on the subject of convoys. But what provoked their hostility more than anything was the chilly discouragement accorded by those at Headquarters to any proposals or suggestions from men who were actively engaged in the struggle on the high seas. When it is borne in mind that the Admirals had themselves filed a petition in bankruptcy to the War Cabinet, as far as their own stock of new ideas was concerned, this lofty disdain of any offer to replenish their mental warehouses was unpardonable. I urged Sir Edward Carson to utilise the services of those men in the Anti-Submarine Department of the Admiralty. He was fully in sympathy with the idea, and undertook to see that their services should be utilised.

At a meeting of the Cabinet War Committee on June 20th, 1917, I asked the First Sea Lord whether the Admiralty were making any progress in the organisation of an Offensive Section of the Operations Division. Admiral Jellicoe said that the First Lord had thought it would be a good plan to assemble some junior officers to form a section for investigating offensive operations. He himself felt it was not much use putting junior officers there. He could not give the time to examine numbers of projects, and he himself had examined all the possibilities of offensive action. Captain Richmond’s name had been proposed for this section, but the First Lord told us that after seeing Captain Richmond he had rejected it. Another officer, selected by himself, was coming up to the Admiralty in his place. He felt, however, that this section would very likely only waste his time, though he hoped to be able to refer to them the working out in detail of his own projects.

It is also interesting to record Admiral Jellicoe’s opinion as to the offensive value of an overwhelming fleet. I was dissatisfied that our Navy with all its tremendous power could do so little against the Belgian harbours, which were needed as bases for the German submarine and torpedo flotillas, and I asked Jellicoe whether, if the German Fleet had the same preponderance over ours as we and the Americans together now enjoyed over theirs, they could not make Dover or Harwich untenable for our fleets. He denied that we had an overwhelming preponderance, except in battleships, and further stated that even if the Germans held an overwhelming preponderance, they could not render either Harwich or Dover untenable. Harwich was defended by navigational conditions, in which respect it resembled Zeebrugge and Ostend. Dover could be bombarded, but our ships could come back as soon as the bombardment was over. You could not render a harbour so unpleasant that ships could not use it. Our Grand Fleet could not go nearer to Zeebrugge than eighteen thousand yards range; and if monitors, which were unarmed, closed to that range, they would be sunk.

This was Jellicoe’s view, alike of the possibility of offensive action by the Navy, and of the resource and ability of the younger naval officers. Captain—now Admiral—Sir Herbert Richmond, to whom reference was made, was one of the able young men whom I found helpful in this emergency.

I passed on to the First Lord of the Admiralty the information I derived from these young officers. But he found it impossible to overcome the solid and stolid resistance of his Board of Admirals. I decided, therefore, to put someone in charge who was accustomed to force his will on his subordinates.

When the Administration was formed I was convinced that Sir Edward Carson’s great gifts would be better employed by giving him a seat on the War Cabinet. I had designated Lord Milner for the Admiralty. In that choice I was overridden by the personal prejudices of the majority of some of the Conservative leaders against Carson. They all admired but disapproved of him. Curzon neither admired nor liked him. Long, who magnified his own influence and position in the Conservative Party, was jealous of the idea of including Carson in a War Cabinet from which he was excluded. So Carson had been kept out of a place for which he was qualified and fitted to a post for which he was unsuited. Every Ministry suffers from these misfortunes and misfits.

A few months’ experience of an appointment forced on me against my own judgment of its aptness drove me to the conclusion that a change must be effected in the interests of Sir Edward Carson himself. His own exasperation at the obstacles thrown in the path of effective action was visibly telling on his strength. Someone was needed at the head of the Admiralty with a greater reserve of vitality, with more resource and greater mastery of detail. A conversation I had with Sir Douglas Haig in the early summer of 1917 finally decided me. The Commander-in-Chief was also alarmed at the dismaying ravages of the submarine. He was apprehensive that the War might be lost at sea before he had an opportunity of winning it on land. He had great admiration for Jellicoe’s knowledge as a technical sailor, but he thought him much too rigid, narrow and conservative in his ideas. As to Sir Edward Carson, I am afraid Sir Douglas Haig had no opinion of his qualities as an administrator. He thought he was distinctly out of place at the Admiralty. He strongly urged upon me the appointment of Sir Eric Geddes to that post. The power, and especially the punch, which Sir Eric had displayed in the reorganisation of transport to and in France had made a considerable impression on the Commander-in-Chief’s mind. Geddes was then engaged in the vital task of putting fresh life into the construction of ships to fill up the dark gaps made by the enemy in our Mercantile Marine.

Mr. Bonar Law agreed as to the desirability of effecting a change, if it could be done without offending Sir Edward Carson. We had both a great personal regard for Carson and we were anxious not to give him any hurt. But as he knew that we had always been of opinion that he would have rendered greater service to his country in the War Cabinet than in any administrative office, we could honestly present to him the case for a transfer from Admiralty House to the Council Chamber on that ground. Nevertheless although membership of the War Directorate was a more exalted and powerful position, I am afraid he felt wounded by the change. To him it was an unpalatable proposal, however much we might wrap it up. But his intense patriotic sense prevailed over any personal feeling. So Carson joined the War Cabinet and Geddes went to the Admiralty. The conduct of the War benefited by the double change.

What about Admiral Jellicoe? Sir Eric Geddes in his acceptance of the position of First Lord stipulated that Jellicoe should not be immediately removed. Geddes knew that Jellicoe had the confidence of the senior officers in the Navy, and that it would therefore be a distinct advantage to secure his coöperation if that were at all possible. He promised to tell me without delay if he found that he could not work with or through him.

It was not long before he discovered that the proper coördination and full efficiency of the Admiralty were being seriously handicapped by personal factors, among which was the lack of sympathetic confidence between Admiral Beatty, Commanding the Grand Fleet, and Admiral Jellicoe, the First Sea Lord. This disagreement had existed since differences had arisen between them about the Battle of Jutland. After consultation with me, Geddes decided to bring in a Deputy First Sea Lord, to facilitate coöperation between the Grand Fleet, the Harwich Force, and the Admiralty. To this post he appointed Admiral Sir Rosslyn Wemyss (afterwards Lord Wemyss). Wemyss, although a good sailor, was not a man of outstanding ability. But he had two special qualities which were conspicuously helpful under the conditions prevailing at that time in the Admiralty. He was not a factionist. He was neither a Jellicoeite nor a Beattyite. He was quite friendly with both. The second attribute which commended him to Geddes was that he was willing to listen to young officers with ideas. He never stared them out of his room. His eyeglass greeted them with a friendly gleam.

Geddes also proceeded to develop a Plans Division of the Admiralty, at the head of which he placed Rear Admiral Roger Keyes, to study plans for offensive enterprises by the Navy in the Narrow Seas. A “Channel Barrage Committee” was set up on November 17th, 1917, with Admiral Keyes as Chairman.

But the inertia and lack of coördination in the Admiralty resisted these measures, and on December 21st, 1917, we found Geddes urging at a Cabinet meeting that he should leave the Admiralty to take charge of the coördination of land and sea transport for all the Allies. The Allied Governments were in complete agreement that Geddes was the best man for this important task. Transportation was at that time an acute problem, and the War Cabinet fully recognised that Sir Eric Geddes was by far the best if not indeed the only person qualified to deal effectively with it. But we felt that we could not spare him from the Admiralty. An explanation of his readiness to consider the other post was forthcoming when that afternoon he came to see me at Downing Street and told me that he had come to the conclusion that he could not give of his best at the Admiralty if Admiral Jellicoe remained there as First Sea Lord. Bonar Law, Geddes and I then went into the whole matter, and Geddes explained that while he was on the best of terms with Jellicoe, and had the highest regard for him, and had no intention of trying, as a civilian, to override the Admirals in technical matters, he felt that he could make no progress there with Jellicoe. Wemyss, on the other hand, was a man who would give opportunities to the younger men, and was on the best of terms with Beatty. During the time he had been at the Admiralty as Deputy First Sea Lord, Wemyss had encouraged the active brains in the Planning Division and indeed throughout the Admiralty.

Bonar Law agreed with me that in the circumstances a change was now desirable. We had as a matter of fact thought so for a long time, but had undertaken to give Geddes an opportunity to make up his own mind, and after six months’ trial he had come to the same conclusion as we had previously reached—a conclusion shared by Sir Douglas Haig, who had intimate knowledge alike of Admiral Jellicoe’s qualities and of the situation at the Admiralty. Haig happened to be in London about this time and expressed his mind freely about the desirability of change.

Sir Eric motored to Sandringham on Christmas Day, where he shared Christmas dinner with the King and Royal Family, and brought back His Majesty’s consent to the change at the Admiralty. Jellicoe resigned his post as First Sea Lord on the following day and was succeeded by Sir Rosslyn Wemyss; and Admiral Keyes replaced Admiral Bacon at Dover. Among the fruits of this rearrangement may be reckoned the carrying through of the attack on Zeebrugge and Ostend by the Dover Patrol Force under Keyes—one of the most gallant and spectacular achievements of the War.

As First Lord of the Admiralty Geddes’ overriding vitality was soon felt in every branch of activity. Difficulties and hesitancies disappeared in every direction. There was a quickening in action all round. The convoy system at last had a fair chance. It was extended, strengthened, improved in every direction. The naval officers who were whole-heartedly for it were encouraged. The attack on the submarine was developed. The Nash invention of the “fish” hydrophone was attached without delay to patrolling vessels. Many other new and ingenious expedients were resorted to for breaking down and destroying the submarine. Best of all, there was real drive put into all these operations. In spite of their increase in power and speed, the enemy submarines began to suffer rapidly growing losses from the effect of the vigorous campaign against them which was now being carried on. This fact is shown by the official German figures of their War Losses in submarines year by year, which are as follows:—

From the end of July 1, 1917, to the end of October, 1918, we were sinking German submarines at an average rate of seven every month.

In August, convoys were also instituted for outward-bound ships, a measure proposed in the original scheme of the committee, but at first postponed on account of the alleged difficulty of providing escorts. From this time until the end of the War, convoyed ships enjoyed a considerable and growing immunity from submarine attack. As the “Official History” states:—

That verdict was fully confirmed by the statistics of convoys. Between the summer of 1917 and the end of the hostilities in November, 1918, some 16,657 vessels were convoyed to or from this country. The total losses, including sixteen sunk by marine peril and thirty-six ships sunk when not in contact with the convoy, amounted to one hundred and fifty-four vessels, or less than one per cent. of the vessels convoyed. Alike in number and in gross tonnage the total number and tonnage of the ships lost in convoy during nearly a year and half of unrestricted warfare were considerably less than the losses incurred during the single month of April, 1917, before the first convoys were introduced.

Under Rear Admiral Duff’s leadership the convoy system, benefiting by experience, kept improving each month. The difficulties about varying speeds were adjusted satisfactorily. Here are some extracts from a report presented to me after the new régime had been in operation for some time:

Neutrals were still suffering heavy losses. Their ships, even when engaged in Allied transport, were not convoyed, either by us or by their own warships. A discussion arose as to whether it was not in our interest to offer them the same protection as was afforded to our own ships. The objection to our doing so lay in the danger of their giving away to the enemy codes and courses—either advertently or inadvertently.

Here are summaries of a few of the reports which came in to encourage those who believed in the convoy system, and to confute those who predicted that it would turn out to be a failure:

Thereupon, as I have already mentioned, we made arrangements for convoying outward-bound vessels. This threw a great additional strain on the escorting destroyers, and the report notes that:

The most gratifying feature of this success was the increased security achieved for the brave mariners who were risking their lives for their country.

The convoy system, supplanted by the arming of merchantmen and the application of new expedients and devices for chasing and chivvying and hunting down the submarines, thus furnished the solution for the submarine problem and saved the country from this deadly menace. But a system is unavailing without men. No praise can adequately recognise the courage and efficiency of the officers and men who manned the vessels which convoyed our ships through all perils, and those also which were engaged in hunting out and hunting down the piratical craft that lurked in the shadows of the deep. But among all the resources on which Britain was able to draw in her efforts to meet the challenge of the U-boats, none deserves to be placed higher than the courage and devotion of our merchant seamen and fishermen. These proved to be of a quality far beyond the calculations of the German Admiralty.

The enemy unquestionably reckoned on being able by a campaign of frightfulness to intimidate our sailors from putting to sea. No other explanation is possible of the numerous cases of brutality and outrage that were perpetrated—presumably by express order of the High Command—against defenceless men after their vessels had been torpedoed and sunk. The firing on and scuttling of open boats at sea, the triumphant proclamation of ships “spurlos versenkt”—sunk without trace, their whole crews being drowned mercilessly—were all intended to shake the morale of British seamen and make them unwilling to sign on for further voyages. But in this object the German Navy was completely unsuccessful.

I remember meeting an old sea captain on board the boat in which I was returning from France after one of our Inter-Allied Conferences during the War. I asked him what he was doing there, and the grizzled skipper told me he had just been torpedoed for, I think, the sixth time, and was now making his way back to Liverpool to take charge of another ship and face the U-boats once again.

In a letter written to me on October 25th, 1917, the late Havelock Wilson, Secretary of the National Sailors’ and Firemen’s Union, said:

How serious those dangers were is clearly shown by the casualty returns. In the Royal Navy, including Marines, Air Service, the R.N.R. and R.N.V.R. and all other auxiliary branches, the total number of officers and men who were killed in action or died of wounds during the War was 22,811. These include a considerable number of sailors from amongst the fishermen and the Mercantile Marine who were doing naval work and were on the pay roll of the British Navy. If deaths from other causes are included the total becomes 34,654. The number of lives lost in British merchant and fishing vessels between August 4th, 1914, and November 11th, 1918, was 15,313. The deaths in the Royal Navy during the War bore to the total number of those who served in it the proportion of 5.41 per cent. In the Mercantile Marine, the proportion of lives lost was about 7½ per cent. of the persons employed in our merchant shipping. It was a far more dangerous service than was our official fighting service on the sea. But, as Mr. Havelock Wilson’s letter testified, the survivors were as ready as ever to brave the perils of the submarine-infested seas in the service of their country. Without rank or uniform they ventured as gallantly as any of the men in our fighting services, and it was to their valour and tenacity as much as to the skill and bravery displayed by the crews of our patrolling and escorting craft that we owed our triumph over the deadliest craft that ever menaced our pathways across the deep.

It is perhaps hardly realised how important were the services of our fishing craft and fishermen in maintaining the defence and escort of our merchant shipping. While we were able to make valuable use of all the destroyers which could be spared from service with the Fleet, and of all that the Americans could furnish, in the task of escorting our shipping convoys, a great deal of the work of watching over the safety of our merchantmen was carried out by armed trawlers. It is repeatedly stated by apologists for the Admiralty that although convoys were successful when they were eventually introduced, this was only because the advent of America had given us a supply of T.B.D.’s for escort work. But it must be borne in mind that the first successful line of regular convoys—those organised for the French coal trade by Commander Henderson—made no use of T.B.D.’s at all. Some of the convoys went without added guard, their strength being their mutual support, manœuvring in rough formation along a specially appointed route. Mostly, however, they were escorted by armed trawlers, of which Commander Henderson had altogether some twenty-six available for protecting the three main routes followed by his coal vessels. The “Official History” remarks that: “the exceptional immunity that the French coal trade enjoyed since it had been placed under this modified system of convoy was certainly remarkable. During the quarter ending April, 1917, rather fewer than 30 armed trawlers had given protection to over 4,000 cross-Channel voyages.”

It cannot be doubted in the face of these experiences that an earlier and fuller use of our armed trawlers in escort work for convoyed vessels would have saved us a very considerable volume of the tonnage which went to the bottom of the sea in 1916 and the earlier part of 1917, before systematic convoys were instituted, or the American Navy became a contributor to our protective forces upon the sea.

The rate at which British vessels were sunk by enemy action showed a steady decline in 1918 from the appalling height which it had reached in the spring of 1917. The figures of our total tonnage losses from this cause during the War years are as follows:

The way in which the sinkings were reduced is shown more clearly in the month-by-month totals for 1917 and 1918:

Against this record of our decreasing losses can be set the swelling figures for our new construction. The gross tonnage of the British merchant vessels launched during the War period was as follows:

Up to the date of the initiation of the convoy, the sinkings mounted upwards month by month. As the Germans were increasing the numbers of their more powerful submarines week by week and the long hours of daylight were approaching, there was every reason to apprehend an alarming increase in the rate of destruction of our merchant ships. Instead of that, there was a welcome drop in the casualties at sea; at last the losses were confined to a figure which was about equal to the new tonnage launched from our yards.

Our British shipbuilding by the end of the War had almost levelled up to the rate at which the submarines were sinking our vessels; the world shipbuilding, including the big output of the United States, had in fact greatly surpassed the rate. Further, the new arrangements made for securing better use of our shipping were beginning to tell, and this reorganisation of our transport caused our shipping to be more effective than the figures for our net balance of available tonnage might imply. Our monthly average of imports during the last half-year of 1917 was 2,968,000 tons a month. During the period July to October, 1918, with a considerably smaller volume of shipping, the average was 3,002,000 tons a month. The story of how this effective use of our tonnage was organised is told in my chapter on the Ministry of Shipping.

It was Britain’s grandest struggle on the seas—in its magnitude—in its intensity—in the issues that depended upon it. There were thousands of ships engaged in it, from the great battleships down to the smallest patrol boats—from the stately liners to the dogged tramps and the plucky little trawlers. Even the pleasure boats joined in. The battle was fought in every ocean and on every trade route. Never were the skill, the daring and the endurance of British sailors put to so stern a test; never was the superiority of their seamanship so triumphantly established. The deadly net that sought to envelop the Allied arms and leave them at the mercy of the Prussian sword was torn to shreds by the mariners of Britain.

The greatest Allied triumph of 1917 was the gradual beating off of the submarine attack. This was the real decision of the War, for the sea front turned out to be the decisive flank in the gigantic battlefield. Here victory rested with the Allies, or rather with Britain. The moment the War became a struggle not to beat the foe in a fight, but first to exhaust his strength and then to beat his defences down, the sea became inevitably the determining factor. If Germany was to be weakened it must be in one of two ways: (1) the growing weakness of her Allies; (2) the effect of the blockade on the morale of her people. As far as the first method was concerned, she was using it effectively against us. It was our Allies who were being broken up one by one. But as for the second, whilst she was delivering savage body blows to our Allies which successively knocked four of them out, the grim fingers of the British Navy were tightening around her throat. What mattered most for us on land was that our Army should not let go when it was being battered, until the time came for it to deliver the final punch at its enfeebled opponent.

The repulses of the Allied attacks on the Somme, the Chemin des Dames and the Flanders coast did not bring ultimate victory to Germany. Nor did the defeat of Russia and Roumania. But the frustration of the German effort to destroy the Allied shipping led straight to her ultimate collapse in 1918. Germany’s supreme effort to blockade Britain had practically failed by the end of 1917, owing to the growing success of our efforts to protect our shipping, to the increase in our output of new ships, the better use we were making of our shipping, and to the plans we had put through for adding to the yield of our own soil. The Allied losses were still heavy, but by the end of 1917 we knew that the German effort to blockade us would not succeed. On the other hand, our blockade was gradually breaking down the morale of the German nation. They were not starving, but they were already short of some of the essentials of nutriment. Many comforts and most luxuries had become scarce. Even the soldiers in the field were beginning to feel the effect of our blockade. Their ration was already inferior to that of the men they fought. On land the Central Powers had the advantage in the campaign of 1917. But they achieved nothing which would bring them final victory. They were beaten at sea and that was decisive. The only chance the Allies ever had of bringing the War to a successful conclusion on land was by breaking up Austria and thus isolating Germany. Failing that, all the Allies had to do on land was just to hold on until the blockade had completed its terrible work and until the Americans rushed up to help in the final overthrowing of a debilitated enemy. General Pétain was the first General to understand the Allied problem. Whilst the naval blockade was gradually effecting its deadly purpose, the Allies on land had two supreme tasks. One was to hold the Germans on the Western Front, the other to organise on the Eastern Front resistance which would prevent the Central Powers from breaking through to the granaries and oil stores of Russia. The Central Powers were beleaguered. We had to beat off their sorties until the exhaustion of their supplies forced them to surrender. That was the true significance of the virtual failure of the German submarine campaign.

The carrying of guns during wartime by merchantmen engaged in commerce is a very old practice. Indeed, formerly it was usual for large ships to carry guns in times of peace, as a protection against pirates. In the Napoleonic Wars, most British ships carried guns to defend themselves against French privateers, which took the seas as commerce raiders in considerable numbers after the defeat of Trafalgar had finally crushed the naval power of France.

During the Great War, the practice of putting guns on merchant ships was only gradually developed. We were short of guns for our fighting forces. The Admiralty began with the arming of some of the vessels engaged on more important work such as bringing of supplies from America, and in the course of 1915, the provision of guns for merchantmen was steadily developed, so far as guns were available. But the heavy demands of the Army for guns left the supply for shipping very scanty, and as German air raids developed, the provision of anti-aircraft guns was given priority over other claims for the smaller types of gun. The guns supplied to the merchant ships were mostly of a type which the Army in the field could best spare.

By the autumn of 1916 a considerable number of vessels on the more dangerous routes had been supplied with guns.

On January 1st, 1917, only 1,337 of our merchantmen carried guns.

The “Official History” records that “During the campaign of 1915, no merchant ships with a defensive armament had been sunk by German submarines; and, up to August, 1916, the number destroyed, though steady, was quite small.” In the summer of 1916 the Germans began launching their big submarines. In the autumn of the year, figures showed that the U-boat commanders were beginning to overcome the difficulties they experienced in attacking armed merchant vessels: “Twelve defensively armed merchantmen were sunk in December, 1916, and in January, 1917, the number had risen to twenty. It was true that of the merchantmen which escaped, nine out of ten did so by virtue of their gunfire. . . .”

In the autumn of 1916 the position was that defensive arming of merchantmen had proved itself very useful against gunfire attacks by the older U-boats. The big submarines which the Germans were now beginning to use could, however, outrange the little guns hitherto supplied to merchant ships. And far too few of our ships were carrying any armament at all.

In the spring of 1916 there had been some slight risk of trouble with America over the arming of merchantmen. On January 18th, President Wilson, with the best of intentions for mitigating the horrors of submarine warfare, had issued one of his Notes, proposing to bring this form of war “within the rules of International Law and the principles of humanity.” Submarines were not to sink ships without ensuring that all on board were removed to a place of safety nor to attack them unless they tried to escape or resist. Ships, on the other hand, were to stop and yield if challenged by a submarine, and for this purpose must cease to be armed. He even hinted that America might decide to treat all merchantmen with guns on board as auxiliary cruisers, liable to internment. But this Note was not acceptable in Britain, and had a very mixed reception in the States, where Senators Lodge and Sterling warmly maintained the right of merchantmen to arm for defence, as an established usage of the sea. So the threat of American objection to the arming of merchant ships was dropped, and any fear of its revival disappeared when in March, 1916, the U-boat 29 torpedoed without warning the passenger vessel Sussex with 380 passengers aboard, including several American citizens.

The rapid rise in the sinking of merchantmen by U-boats in the late autumn of 1916 roused the War Committee to give its attention to the question of hurrying on the defensive arming of our ships. An alarmist letter from Sir John Jellicoe to the Premier played an important part in bringing up the issue. At their meeting of October 31st, 1916, the War Committee decided to review the whole question two days later with Jellicoe in person, and meantime asked the Admiralty to furnish them “with statistical information regarding the rate of loss from attacks by submarines, and the rate at which measures of defence against submarine attack, particularly guns for use in merchant ships, are being provided.”

At the meeting of the War Committee on November 2nd, 1916, at which Admiral Jellicoe was present, it was reported that:

At that rate half our mercantile marine might be sunk before the other half was armed.

It was decided that a conference should be held at an early date between experts from the Munitions Ministry and the Admiralty on the subject, as the War Committee considered that the increased production of these guns was a question of the first importance.

As a result of this Inter-Departmental Conference it was recommended that the arming of merchant ships should be entrusted to the Admiralty, the War Office and Ministry of Munitions, the responsibility for initiating action to rest with the Admiralty.

On November 13th another meeting of the War Committee decided:

No immediate action seems to have been taken to carry this decision beyond the establishment of the principle.

Less than four weeks after this Committee, the Second Coalition Government was formed. A fresh energy was infused into the work of arming merchantmen. Lord Jellicoe says in his book, “The Crisis of the Naval War”:

Soon after the formation of my Ministry it was decided that the Army should be called upon to give up some of its manufacturing capacity in order to enable the Admiralty to provide some hundreds of four-inch guns and howitzers for the Navy, and as even this provision did not meet the requirements, it would be advisable that the Minister of Munitions should be authorised to provide further manufacturing facilities. As the manufacture of these new guns would take time, and the need was urgent, the Army agreed to hand over at once to the Admiralty a considerable number of 15-pounders and 4.7 guns.

Arrangements were approved for suspending the manufacture of 724 guns and howitzers for the Army in order to produce a larger number of four-inch guns for arming merchantmen, and the War Office, Admiralty and Ministry of Munitions were ordered to prepare without delay a scheme for meeting the requirements of the Admiralty for guns for merchantmen by April, 1917. This decision is very significant of the fact that the War Cabinet at that date placed the maritime position first in the order of urgency.

These three Departments met on the same day, and on December 29th they laid before the War Cabinet a series of proposals for providing the guns wanted, and arrangements were agreed on for carrying out most of these plans.

We also took in hand immediately the question of not merely arming our merchant ships but of providing those already armed with guns of a longer range. As I have already stated, this question was raised by Admiral Jellicoe at the War Committee held in November, 1916, and it was then reported by the representatives of the Admiralty that three thousand guns, twelve-pounder size and upwards, preferably four-inch were required. But the guns that had been ordered for the purpose were only being delivered at the rate of eighty a month. This was obviously inadequate and much greater drive had to be put into the supply of the heavier and the longer-range type of gun for our merchant ships.

The progress achieved by these measures in the arming of merchantmen can be briefly indicated by the following figures:

Quite a considerable number of howitzers were also made available for the equipment of the larger steamers. Thus within a year the number of vessels armed was more than trebled and the power of the armament provided was considerably increased. This process gave the convoys greater security by increasing the risks the submarine had to take in its attacks on our shipping.

When the War broke out, Britain occupied a position of overwhelming superiority in the sphere of mercantile shipping. At the beginning of 1914, nearly forty thousand vessels of all kinds flew the British flag. That figure of course included a very large number of small craft—fishing boats, trawlers, drifters, tugs, lighters—which proved to be not without their crucial value in the War. But of steam vessels of over a hundred tons there were 10,123 on the registers of Britain and her Dominions, with a total gross tonnage of twenty and one half million tons. Not far short of one half of the shipping tonnage in the world was British.

Step by step, as the War developed, as the commitments of the British Government for equipping and reinforcing our armies overseas grew heavier, as the imports of stores to this country for Government purposes increased in volume, as the demands of our Allies for shipping tonnage became heavier, as the inroads of the German U-boat campaign diminished the available tonnage, and as the output of mercantile vessels from our shipbuilding yards dropped, the control by the Government over British shipping was extended, and the need for coördinating the various controls and forming a department for administrative purposes became imperative.

In the early days, most of the work carried out by the Government in respect of British shipping fell to the Admiralty. The Transport Department of the Admiralty was responsible for chartering the vessels necessary to carry our forces to France, Egypt and subsequently the Dardanelles and other theatres of war in Asia and East Africa, and to maintain them with food, munitions, and reinforcements. The developments of naval warfare also involved a very extensive requisitioning of small craft to act as auxiliaries to the Fleet—for patrol work, mine sweeping and message carrying. Some 1,720 yachts, trawlers, drifters, and motor boats were secured as auxiliaries for use in home waters within the first ten months of the War. In addition, a number of merchant vessels were converted into armed merchant cruisers.

It must also be pointed out that although Britain owned so large a share of the world’s shipping, this country did so much sea carriage for other countries that when the War broke out her shipping was not sufficient to meet our own home needs. A third of the merchant trade done with this country was in goods carried in foreign vessels. Of the imports which reached us in 1913, only sixty-five per cent. were brought in British bottoms. The shipping problem was thus accentuated on two sides.

Let us examine first of all the vastly increased demands on shipping, owing to the War. There was the immense and continually growing task of transporting men, animals, stores of all kinds from this country to the various fields of war. Like most other services, those of the Army Sea Transport grew beyond all calculation. By the end of the year 1914, 946,000 men had been transported to and fro between the United Kingdom and overseas destinations. By the end of 1915, this figure had grown to over four million; by the end of 1916, to nine million; by the end of 1917, to sixteen million, and by the date of the Armistice to about twenty-four million. During the actual period of the War and till November, 1920, the troops and personnel transported to and from all the fighting fronts, including France, Gallipoli, Egypt, Mesopotamia, etc., from and to Great Britain, India and the Dominions and Colonies, amounted to 28,719,315. The total numbers in fact were as follows:

To this enormous total must be added the stores and equipment moved for the troops. Up to the Armistice, some forty-nine million tons by weight, equal to about one hundred twenty-two million shipping tons, were carried. During the later stages of the War, the army stores sent daily to France alone mounted to ninety thousand tons.

It is interesting to note how various were the shipments for army account. Camels, for example, were shipped in large numbers. One rather curious shipment was carried out for political purposes arising from our military operations. This was the provision of a vessel to convey the “Holy Carpet” and Moslem pilgrims to Jeddah for their annual pilgrimage to Mecca. The only ship which was at the moment readily available was an ex-German steamer. It was thought inadvisable to use a ship with a German name; so the vessel’s name was solemnly changed for the occasion. Nothing untoward happened as a result of the change of name. Thus a superstition of the seas was confuted.

A further task for our shipping imposed by the War was that of bringing from abroad the raw materials for the manufacture of munitions and equipment. We also had the task of supplying our Allies by means of sea transport, both with munitions and raw materials for their manufacture, and with many articles of civil use which they had formerly been able to obtain overland from countries now at war with them, or, in the case of France, from their own provinces now held by the enemy. Most of the coal and iron mines of France were in the hands of the enemy, and most of her coal and ore had therefore to be carried across the seas. France had the equivalent of over one million tons gross of British shipping set aside exclusively for her services, and forty-three per cent. of her total imports were carried in British ships. Of her coal imports, fifty per cent. or 1,600,000 tons a month, was carried by British ships, and the bulk of her cereals. In addition, by our practice of refusing bunker coal to vessels not serving the Allied cause, we forced over 400,000 tons gross of neutral tonnage into her service.

Italy was during the War period deprived of supplies of coal and other commodities which she formerly derived from German and Austrian sources. The deficiency had to be made up by sea-carried supplies from Britain. Italy had during the War over half a million tons gross of British shipping set aside for supplying her needs. About forty-five per cent. of her total imports, and seventy-five per cent. of her coal supplies were carried to her in British ships. And 300,000 tons gross of neutral tonnage were reserved for her service by us through the exercise of our control over bunker supplies.

While our shipping was thus called on to bear a wide range of additional burdens, the War led to a considerable restriction of the available tonnage. The German Mercantile Marine, the second largest in the world, was bottled up in Germany or interned in neutral harbours, where it had not been captured by us. Enemy action by submarines, mines and surface raiders was steadily cutting down the total of available shipping, both Allied and Neutral. Shipbuilding, owing to the need for turning the energies of our yards to naval demands, fell heavily, and the Board of Trade did not take steps in time to safeguard the interests of mercantile shipbuilding by checking the recruitment of skilled workers and by reserving a fair share of the berths in the yards for merchant ships. Moreover, whilst the demand for shipping increased and the number of available ships diminished without prospect of replenishment, the ships that were left could not make as many voyages as usual, owing to War conditions. The necessity of precautionary measures to avoid danger zones, which led to devious routing and to continual hold-ups of vessels when a raider or submarine was believed to be operating in the neighbourhood, had the result of making voyages take much longer, so that the services which a given volume of shipping could render in a given time was heavily reduced. There was also a great deal of congestion on the railways and ports which delayed the loading and unloading of ships. Much of that congestion was inevitable, but much of it could have been avoided by businesslike supervision and control.

With the problems which resulted from this growing strain upon our shipping resources I was not myself departmentally concerned during the early part of the War. The one important measure for which I had some responsibility was the scheme of War Risks Insurance which was brought into force at the beginning of August, 1914.

This was one of those financial arrangements with which, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, I was closely occupied during the days immediately preceding and following the outbreak of the War, and of which I have given some account in the first volume of these Memoirs. The history of the War Risks Insurance Scheme can be briefly outlined in a few words. For some time past the Huth Jackson Sub-Committee of the Committee of Imperial Defence had been at work upon a scheme for maintaining the shipping services of this country in the event of war by providing state assistance for the underwriting of the special war risks which would arise. Their important task had been completed shortly before the crisis arose. When the Great War threatened, there were immediate signs of panic among shipowners and underwriters. On July 30th, 1914, chartering ceased at North American ports, vessels already loaded with grain being held up owing to the impossibility of insuring except at prohibitive rates, and there appeared a danger that the whole of our import and export trade, vital to maintain our supplies of food and raw materials, might be paralysed.

Urgent representations were made to me as Chancellor of the Exchequer, since the matter was one only to be remedied by the Government carrying the risk for war losses. As with the cognate questions of credit and finance, which were then deeply preoccupying me, it was a matter of taking state action to restore confidence. So I took steps to have the issue promptly investigated, and a meeting took place around my breakfast table at Number 11 Downing Street, on Saturday, August 1st, 1914, at which the Ministers and officials most closely concerned were present. Our discussions proving inconclusive, I proceeded to secure the summoning of a special Committee of the Cabinet, to which the late Mr. Huth Jackson and Sir Raymond Beck—two of the leading experts who had been engaged on the question—were invited, to expound their views on the situation and on the measures necessary to deal with it. This Committee was held the same day and debated till nearly midnight without coming to any agreement. It was obviously impossible to leave our shipping hanging on a dead centre whilst politicians wrangled about the ideal nature and extent of state action to set it moving again. I therefore decided that the only possible course was to recommend to the Government the adoption as it stood of the detailed scheme already prepared by the Huth Jackson Sub-Committee. For an imperative need, better an imperfect plan that none at all.

The whole of Sunday was occupied in working out the administrative and other measures for applying the scheme. On Sunday night the War Risks Association of Shipowners were informed of the decision of the Government and invited to submit the proposals to their members. On Monday the Board of Trade took provisional action to furnish cover for the hulls of the vessels held up by war peril. On Tuesday, August 4th, I explained to the House of Commons what had been done and the reasons for our actions, and the scheme was adopted by Parliament and by the shipowners’ associations. On the 5th, the first day we were at war, the State Cargo Insurance Office was opened in the public halls of the Cannon Street Hotel by officials of the Board of Trade with the coöperation of the underwriters. Our shipping began to move everywhere and my own immediate concern with this problem was for the time ended.

During the following months, the Departments directly in touch with the shipping situation were those of the Admiralty, War Office, and Board of Trade. The biggest single factor in our problem was the great and growing number of vessels that were being requisitioned by the Transport Department for special war services, and thus withdrawn from general shipping services. By January, 1915, between eleven hundred and twelve hundred steamships had thus been diverted from their normal employment. Later on, when the Ministry of Munitions had been set up and begun to function actively, its extensive requirements in the shape of imports of raw materials for National Controlled Factories, and of munitions ordered in America, distracted further vessels from general trade.

By degrees the responsibility of the Government for the control of shipping was perforce extended.

Early in 1916, the Departments concerned with sea transport found themselves in a difficulty, owing to the growing shortage of tonnage available to meet growing demands.

On January 27th, 1916, the Cabinet set up the Shipping Control Committee, under the Chairmanship of Lord Curzon. This was the first body entrusted with the task of surveying the tonnage situation as a whole. Its main activities were directed to:

No effective—certainly no adequate—action was taken for over ten months after the appointment of the Committee to achieve any of these aims.

On February 10th, 1916, this Committee presented to Mr. Runciman, the President of the Board of Trade, a report which showed that whereas the total demands on shipping not as yet requisitioned for war service would require 10,328,000 gross tons of shipping to carry out, the actual tonnage of shipping available for the purpose was only 7,068,803 tons—a deficit of over 3¼ million tons. This was after making allowance for the possible services of foreign shipping which we might be able to obtain. The Committee accordingly stated that “the situation is exceedingly grave and calls for immediate and drastic action.” They recommended that nonessential imports should be prohibited. “Expressed in terms of tons weight of imports, a deficiency of 3¼ million gross tons of shipping means a deficiency of 13 million tons weight of imports, so that . . . the weight of imports . . . must be reduced by more than 25 per cent.” The shortage thus envisaged constituted a problem of urgent gravity. We shall, however, see further on in the chapter on Imports how utterly we failed to comply with the proposals sketched out by this Committee for dealing with this acute and intensifying crisis by effecting a drastic reduction in our imports.

In the ten months January-October, 1916, the total merchant shipping lost through enemy action (mainly sunk by submarines) was 1,638,460 tons, including Allied and Neutral shipping. Of British shipping alone it was 877,413 tons. And the rate of sinking had begun to mount swiftly with the irruption of the cruiser submarine. It was clear that unless something could be done, and done quickly, to effect a fundamental change in the position, we could not make such a contribution to the War as would enable the Alliance to continue with any hope of success.

Throughout 1916 Mr. Runciman talked in terms of unmitigated pessimism and placed a near limit on the possibility of our continuing the struggle—owing to lack of ships. The Board of Trade declared that: “We have exhausted every civil economy suggested to us or thought of by our experts or by members of the Government and the Departments.” Unless, therefore, measures were taken to improve the position by grappling effectively with the submarine menace, by building more ships, and by making the best use of the ships that were left, then the sooner we made tracks for peace the better. That accounted in great measure for the Lansdowne move for immediate peace negotiations. Lord Lansdowne quoted Mr. Runciman’s gloomy forecasts in the prelude to his memorandum of November, 1916 (which has been referred to in a previous volume). Mr. Runciman’s prognostications were based on figures which he might have amended by strong and timely action.

In the first week of November, 1916, Mr. Runciman gave to the War Committee a particularly depressing account of the shipping outlook. He subsequently discovered, however, that there were depths of dejection several stages beneath those into which he had plunged us at that meeting. So a few days later he still further darkened the colouring of his picture by warning us that the record of the previous meeting had not been as explicit as he would wish on the gravity of the merchant shipping situation. His experts had told him that he had been too sanguine in saying that there would be a breakdown of shipping by June, 1917. They considered that the breakdown would come before that time. He called attention in particular to the demand for additional raw material to the extent of two and a half million tons by the Ministry of Munitions. This demand, he said, had been reduced by half. He also drew attention to the difficulties of the Wheat Commission, who were at present unable to find the forty vessels they required to bring wheat from Australia. They had gone into the Neutral market, but had only been able to obtain two ships at reasonable prices. Another Neutral ship had been offered at the huge price of 380s. a ton, and this sum would have to be paid. Thus they were nearly forty ships short on their first allotment.

Further on in the course of our discussions he also pointed out that the balance received from premiums both on ships and cargoes under the Government War Risks Insurance scheme had now for the first time entirely disappeared.

When he came to shipbuilding, he said the situation here was a good deal worse than he had thought. There was no steel available for shipbuilding, even on the existing reduced basis.

It is recorded that after the Committee had been drenched with these cumulative jeremiads, I said that “the situation was very serious, and required to be dealt with on broader lines” than those which had been indicated by the President of the Board of Trade. I put forward proposals as to the development of steel production in U.S.A. and Canada, and as to stopping the export of engines.

But the most important proposal I made was: “To appoint a Director of Merchant Shipping under the President of the Board of Trade, with full powers to organise—

(a) The merchant shipping available to the best advantage to this country.

(b) The building of additional ships in this country and America.

I ended by saying that “in my opinion some such drastic measures as these were absolutely necessary, and any minor suggestions were mere tinkering.”

Now that the War had been manœuvred by the Military Command into a pure war of exhaustion, I felt that our shipping had become the most vital and vulnerable point in the issue of victory or defeat. I was convinced that much more was needed than could be done by the Admiralty and the Board of Trade, separately and in combination, to save us from the desperate position into which we were rapidly drifting through lack of initiative, grasp, and vigour. I thought the handling of our shipping tonnage was so important a matter, involving such unremitting attention to detail in the way of organising voyages, controlling the ports, building new ships, that it was a one-man job, and a task which would absorb the concentrated mind of a whole department, directed and manned by those who had practical experience in the management of our mercantile marine.

With regard to my first two proposals, the President of the Board of Trade said in substance that what I suggested either had been done or could not be done. On the proposition that I put forward about a Shipping Controller, “he had already decided to ask two of the greatest shipping experts of the day to assist him and take off his shoulders some of the very heavy work connected with shipping. And as time went on he hoped to be able to delegate more and more responsibility to them.” It was all very leisurely. If shipping resources were already inadequate for essential war services and now likely to break down entirely before June—and the Admiralty vowed they could not see how to stop our enormous losses—every hour was precious as blood to a man whose wounds cannot be staunched.

It was also pointed out, in opposition to my proposal, that there was Lord Curzon’s Committee on Shipping Control. But it was admitted “that there was no special body outside the Board of Trade for dealing with the building of additional ships in this country and in America.”

I explained in reply that I was aware of the splendid work of the Shipping Control Committee, and that it would be necessary for this Committee to continue its work under my scheme in order to assist the Director of Shipping, but the latter would have complete executive authority to an extent not vested in any one person at present. I urged that no Committee could satisfactorily discharge executive functions, and that although I had every confidence in the capacity and energy of the chairman, he could not possibly find time for superintending both ships and our air service, each of these demanding the full energies of one man. I pointed out that the present system had not prevented the probability, according to the President of the Board of Trade, of a threatened breakdown next summer.

As success or failure in the War depended upon the maintenance of a sea transport equal to the essential needs of the Allies, I repeatedly urged the Prime Minister and the War Committee to set up a Ministry of Shipping with a Shipping Controller at its head, to deal with this vital problem. The Board of Trade resisted this diminution of its authority, and the Prime Minister’s well-known dislike for kicking along laggard colleagues with academic qualifications was growing on him. He always postponed the operation if it was suggested to him that a less drastic remedy would cure the evil. So the time went by, carrying with it every week a mournful diminution in our resources of sea transport.

Nothing was done during the lifetime of the First Coalition Government to establish a thorough and efficient reorganisation and control of our shipping. This problem was therefore left amongst other embarrassing inheritances for the new Government to grapple with. I knew it was a whole-time job for a man of practical experience and tried capacity. So pressing did I consider the shipping situation that, as soon as I was invited by the King to form a Government, without even waiting until the principal offices were filled, I invited Sir Joseph Maclay, a well-known Glasgow shipowner of high repute, to take the office of Shipping Controller—a selection which was strongly supported by Mr. Bonar Law. I had never met him, but as Mr. Bonar Law knew him well and had the highest opinion of his capacity and character, I rang Maclay up at his Glasgow office on my first day as Prime Minister. The line was so bad that I could not hear a word he said, so I invited him to come up and see me in London. He travelled up that night and met me the following morning at the War Office—(I had not yet left this office for Downing Street)—and I asked him if he would accept the post of Shipping Controller.

With characteristic modesty Sir Joseph Maclay declined, telling me that in his opinion a man of wider experience and influence should be secured for the position. It required the joint persuasion of Mr. Bonar Law and myself to wring from him a reluctant consent. We had every reason to be proud of the pressure we exerted on the occasion, for no Minister ever served his country more effectively in an emergency. The following morning, December 9th, 1916, I informed the War Cabinet at its first meeting that Sir Joseph Maclay was to be appointed Shipping Controller. Until the Shipping Ministry received legislative sanction, he was to take the Presidency of the Shipping Control Committee, but he was to have extended powers, as to which he would himself report, after examination.

The War Cabinet directed their Secretary to invite the Admiralty and the Board of Trade to give Sir Joseph Maclay every possible facility and assistance.

The new Ministry was in due course legally authorised by the new Ministries and Secretaries Act, 1916, which received the Royal Assent on December 22nd. But the new Minister of Shipping did not wait for that event. Although he left me feeling, as he has since confessed to me, “one of the most miserable men in London”, after accepting the appointment, he called two leading shipbuilders into conference that same afternoon at his hotel and arranged with them for an immediate meeting of the Shipbuilders’ Association, so that the building of more ships might be pressed on with at once, as the most outstanding need of the country. He also got promptly in touch with the Shipping Control Committee, which was being superseded by the new Ministry. Lord Curzon, its former Chairman, was in any case resigning to join my new War Cabinet, and another member, Lord Farringdon, also withdrew. But the other three members, Sir Thomas Royden, Sir Kenneth Anderson and Mr. Frederick Lewis, three of the ablest shipowners in the world, agreed to coöperate with Maclay in forming a new Shipping Committee, and thereafter worked with him closely and with conspicuous loyalty, giving their whole time to the task.

As it was necessary that the Shipping Controller and his staff should be in close and constant touch with the Naval Departments, the Ministry of Shipping was eventually housed in new buildings which were rapidly run up on the only available site near the Admiralty—the lake in St. James’s Park, which was drained for the purpose and transformed into a row of grey, two-storied concrete buildings. Pending the construction of his new quarters, Sir Joseph Maclay was given a room in the Admiralty buildings. Hitherto the Admiralty had exercised a considerable measure of control over sea transport, and the new Ministry was thus relieving them of a very heavy and increasingly difficult task which lay strictly outside their ordinary routine, and for the handling of which they did not possess the appropriate commercial and industrial experience.

Yet here again, as with the War Office when the Ministry of Munitions had been formed, there was little gratitude at the lightening of burdens they were unable to carry. Sir Joseph Maclay got no friendly reception from the Admiralty. He reported that his appointment was resented by them and as a body they were not out to help.

He is not the kind of man to be deterred by a frosty reception from getting ahead promptly with a duty he has undertaken. Climate and experience had inured him to all weathers. In a few days he had planned a large increase in our shipbuilding output, and in less than a week after his appointment he had secured the agreement of the Admiralty to a programme for constructing a number of tramp steamers of about eight thousand tons each, and came to the War Cabinet with a request for their authority to embark upon the scheme. This permission was immediately given, and at the same meeting (December 15th, 1916) he was authorised to go ahead with a scheme he had prepared for purchasing some 77,500 tons of shipping from Japan. A week later, on December 22nd, 1916, the First Sea Lord reported that, according to information received that morning, the rate of output of merchant shipping for next year did not exceed 400,000 tons during the first six months, as compared with submarine losses amounting to about 300,000 tons a month.

The Shipping Controller, however, reported that he had information to the effect that, provided the necessary labour and material were available, an output of a million tons deadweight capacity might be expected during the first six months of next year (1917).

This included a large order given to the U.S.A. When the Americans came into the War, all ships in course of construction in their yards were seized for their own use. The ships ordered by the Controller in American yards therefore were not added to our dwindling mercantile fleet. Nevertheless, they diminished the sum total of Allied deficiency.

The new Ministry of Shipping took over from the Board of Trade the task of keeping watch on the construction of merchant shipbuilding, embarking in addition upon a programme of direct Government shipbuilding for the standard pattern of ships projected by the new Controller.

Shipbuilding remained in the hands of the Ministry of Shipping until May, 1917. During these five months, Sir Joseph Maclay greatly speeded up the completion of vessels already under construction, and devised a programme that would eventually yield upwards of three million tons of merchant shipping a year. There was serious need for some such stimulus, for despite the inroads made by the submarines, our construction of merchant shipping had been falling off heavily since the outbreak of the War. In 1913 there had been completed 1,919,578 tons gross of merchant shipping. In 1915 the total was 688,629 tons, and in 1916 it fell still lower to 538,797 tons. Part of this decline had been due to the much greater output of war vessels and auxiliary craft for the Admiralty, but even after making allowance for this, the total gross tonnage of all kinds completed during these years had shown, too, a heavy falling off from the 1913 figure. During the first five months of 1917, from January to May, the merchant tonnage completed was 376,588 tons. The programme put in hand resulted in the completed tonnage for the whole of 1917 reaching the figure of 1,163,474 gross tons. This result was achieved in spite of the largely increased demands on our iron and steel supplies, as well as on our engineering resources by the swelling needs of the Army and Navy.

Arrangements were also set on foot for extensive purchases of foreign shipping.

In addition to his efforts to increase our tonnage, the Shipping Controller set to work to organise the more effectual and economic use of the shipping we had. In January, 1917, out of a total of 3,731 passenger and cargo vessels of 1,600 gross tonnage and upwards, flying the British flag, with a gross tonnage totalling 16,591,032 tons, there were 1,500 with a total gross tonnage of 7,082,099 tons not requisitioned by the Admiralty for war services, nor allocated for special purposes, such as supplying the Allies or bringing wheat to this country. The system was wasteful as far as the needs of the nation were concerned. It was grossly unfair as between the owners of requisitioned and unrequisitioned tonnage. The Ministry of Shipping had to see that not only were the requisitioned vessels being worked as efficiently as possible, but that all tonnage not as yet requisitioned was controlled and directed to the most serviceable purposes. To this end the Shipping Controller was given general powers of control over all British shipping; he proceeded to press for the release by the Admiralty of a proportion of the tonnage held by them, which on a careful enquiry he was convinced was being wastefully used. He insisted that seventeen and one-half per cent. of the tonnage so requisitioned should be released for carriage of goods, in particular of coal for the Allies. In this demand he received the support of the Cabinet. How promptly the new Controller acted will be seen from the fact that on December 22nd, 1916, it was reported to the War Cabinet that all but twenty thousand tons of this percentage had then been released.

The next important step in this connection was taken on February 9th, 1917, when the War Cabinet considered a memorandum prepared by the Shipping Controller making a series of recommendations as to the powers he considered he should possess for the carrying out of his task. Perhaps the most important item in this memorandum was the proposal that the Transport Department of the Admiralty, which was now charged with a multitude of duties in connection with the control and use of shipping, should be transferred to the Ministry of Shipping. This part of the memorandum ran as follows:

This memorandum was originally drawn up by the Shipping Controller after consultation with me and submitted by him to the Admiralty on January 12th, 1917. The reasonableness of the proposal for the transfer to the Ministry of Shipping of the department holding control of merchant shipping was too obvious for dispute. But on the other hand the Lords of the Admiralty disliked the idea that a portion of their power should be alienated to another control, and they were horrified at the notion that brass buttons should be ordered about by bone. Sir Joseph Maclay appealed to the War Cabinet.

The fight was thus transferred to the chamber of the War Cabinet. The Lords of the Admiralty turned up in force to denounce the impiety of Sir Joseph Maclay’s suggestion.

Photo. by Russell

THE RT. HONOURABLE LORD MACLAY

One of the Sea Lords wanted to know how it was possible for senior officers of the Admiralty engaged on transport to receive orders from a shipowner. But the War Cabinet decided, in spite of their objections, to approve the proposal of the Shipping Controller, adding thereto as a rider that if they so desired, the Admiralty could adopt a suggestion of the Director of Transports about keeping on their books the part of the staff dealing with Naval and Military shipping. So ended this naval engagement. The pirates won and the ships of the line withdrew from these particular waters. The control of our mercantile marine passed entirely from the Admiralty to the new Shipping Ministry. The Department of the Director of Transports and Shipping duly took up its quarters in the desiccated duck pond of St. James’s Park, under the humble roof of the new Ministry; and despite the misgivings of the Admiralty chiefs, this arrangement turned out to be a complete success.

Another matter which engaged the early attention of the Shipping Controller was one as to which I had given an undertaking as soon as I took office, namely, a more complete national control of the whole of our shipping. This, incidentally, involved the question of the profits earned by British shipowners. Against these profits there had been a good deal of public outcry. As the demands on shipping grew, and the progress of requisitioning for Government work diminished the amount of tonnage available for general commerce, the competition of shippers all over the world had forced up freights to surprising heights. Thus at the end of 1913 the freight rate for grain from the Plate to the United Kingdom had been 12s. 6d. At the end of 1915 it was 115s. and by the end of 1916 it had risen to 145s. Similarly, the rate for coal from Cardiff to Port Said, which at the end of 1913 had averaged 7s. 9d., rose to 62s. 6d. by the end of 1915 and to 80s. in 1916. The rates for carrying in requisitioned ships was fixed by the Government and restricted to a scale. As I have already pointed out, there was thus a grossly unfair discrimination in favour of those ships and shipowners who had successfully eluded requisition.

These high freights of course tended to force up prices—already only too much inclined to rise through other causes. And the public who were called upon to make sacrifices for the sake of their native land were angry when they became painfully aware that their necessities were getting dearer, largely owing to the rapacity of certain shipowners. There was no justification in war risks for these inflated rates. The Government insurance covered losses at sea and wages had not increased to anything like that extent. The added risk of life did not extend to the owners. It was a scandalous example of war profiteering. Such was the state of things which drove me to the announcement I made to the Labour Deputation that the new Government proposed to bring our shipping under Government control.

There was keen debate about the question whether or not the step should be taken of nationalising all shipping in the sense of transferring it from private ownership altogether. To this course the Shipping Controller was opposed, deeming that the experienced shipowner, subject to an appropriate degree of control, and to excess profits duties or similar methods of diverting the major part of the proceeds of wartime freights into the exchequer, would be the best person to manage the business side of the shipping. He set out his views in a letter which is not without its bearings on some of the controversies of to-day:

This letter was laid by me before the War Cabinet on February 12th, 1917, when we gave careful consideration to the question of shipowners’ profits and the nationalising of shipping. I was committed to the extent of the pledge I had given to the House of Commons in my speech on December 19th, 1916, which was in the following terms:

After some discussion, the War Cabinet decided upon the following course of action:

These decisions brought practically the whole of our shipping under national control for the period of the War.

The Controller’s report on the way these decisions had been carried out was considered by the Cabinet on the 10th and 17th of April. The Controller was able to report that practically all the mercantile fleet of the country was now under requisition at Blue Book rates, and after examining the figures for rates of shipping before the War, the Cabinet decided that:

An important development took place at the Admiralty in May, 1917, which had a direct influence upon the work of the Ministry of Shipping.

When I paid my visit to the Admiralty at the end of April to confer with the heads there as to measures to be taken to combat the submarine menace, I was told that the Navy could not work a convoy system properly because with all its immense fleet it had not sufficient craft to provide escorts. The excuse was neither adequate nor sincere, for armed trawlers served the purpose. But if it were true, then the task of increasing its resources for this purpose was one which clearly called for immediate supervision and direction by someone of energy and ability. I accordingly recommended to the War Cabinet that there should be appointed as a member of the Board of Admiralty a business man to superintend the whole of the shipbuilding and supply of material for naval purposes. This proposal was not acceptable to the Board. The Cabinet discussed it on May 2nd, 1917. The First Lord pointed out that such functions were already provided for in the duties assigned by Mr. Churchill to the Additional Civil Lord, although in fact those duties appear to have remained dormant. He stated that the First Sea Lord and himself were in complete agreement with regard to this recommendation, and were prepared to amplify, if necessary, the scope of the duties assigned by Mr. Churchill to such an appointment. They laid stress, however, on the importance of the appointment of some one who had the complete confidence of the War Cabinet.

The War Cabinet considered that the best available man would have to be appointed to this post, and that, in view of the paramount importance of the shipping situation, nothing should stand in the way of this appointment. There was a general agreement that, having regard to his record in this War, Major General Sir Eric Geddes would be the most suitable person if he were willing to undertake the duties. The War Cabinet saw Major General Geddes and invited him to accept the appointment. He promised to consider the matter and to reply as soon as possible.

The War Cabinet also felt that, having regard to the intimate connection between shipbuilding for the purposes of the Royal Navy, the Mercantile Marine and the War Office Inland Waterways, there should be a very close association between the holder of the new office and the shipbuilding side of the Shipping Controller’s Committee, and a proposal was made that the new Admiralty Civil Lord should exercise a measure of control over all three departments, as far as they were engaged in shipping construction, after the general policy had been laid down by the War Cabinet.

Sir Eric Geddes consented to undertake this work. Accordingly, on May 11th, 1917, I was able to report his acquiescence, and he was duly appointed.

The War Cabinet decided that on account of his proposed other duties at the Admiralty in connection with supplies of armament, etc., and on account of the complexity of naval design, it was necessary that his touch with the Admiralty should be very close, and it was therefore decided that he should be appointed one of the Lords of the Admiralty.

Sir Eric entered on the office of Controller of the Navy, and was given the rank of Vice Admiral. He had discovered by bitter experience in France what it meant for an ununiformed functionary to order about men in uniform. That is why he had been given the rank of a General, for obedience to his orders then became automatic. One rather interesting departure from precedent was occasioned by this further appointment, for by arrangement with Sir Douglas Haig, Sir Eric continued for a couple of months longer in his connection with the transportation branch of the Army, and thus enjoyed the amphibious distinction of being at once both a General and an Admiral—an unprecedented attainment for a civilian. In accordance with the War Cabinet’s decision, the control of mercantile shipbuilding was also entrusted to him. It thus passed out of the care of the Ministry of Shipping. This was not due to any failure of the Ministry to deal energetically and successfully with that part of its task, but to the desirability of placing the whole of ship construction—naval and civil alike—under a single authority specially charged with this vitally important work.

Mention should be made of one important piece of work planned and carried out by the Ministry of Shipping to economise our tonnage in 1917, when losses from submarines were at their worst, when the convoy system had not yet got into working order and the big programmes of new shipping construction had not had time to bear fruit. This was a measure for a large concentration of our shipping in the Atlantic.

The scheme was worked out by Sir Leo Chiozza Money, with the aid of Sir Arthur Salter and Sir Norman Leslie. Briefly, they set themselves to consider how far we could supply our vital needs from countries near at hand, instead of from those which involved a sea voyage lasting twice and thrice as long. Obviously, the same volume of shipping could bring two or three times as much goods to us from a near as from a distant country in the same space of time. They came to the conclusion that nearly all our essential imports could be secured from the North American Continent, and could easily be carried by the tonnage still available, if it were concentrated on that route instead of being dispersed all over the seaways of the world. This concentration would also reduce the amount of miscellaneous patrol work needed for commerce protection, and thus lighten the Navy’s task and enable it to carry on a more vigorous campaign against the submarines.

The proposal came at a fortunate moment, when the Admiralty had just consented to approve the introduction of the convoy system. Had it not done so, the concentration of all or a very heavy share of shipping in one ocean and on the constricted routes leading in from it to Great Britain, might well have increased our disasters by giving the U-boats a more abundant supply of targets. But the setting-up of the Atlantic convoys enabled a high degree of protection to be assured to shipping using that ocean.

Purchasing Departments were urged in future to order their supplies as far as possible from the United States and Canada and limit their commitments in other markets to the lowest possible level. The coöperation of America was essential, and Mr. Balfour could take the matter up with the Government there. A special Committee might be set up to consider the effects of the plan on our export trade and propose ways and means of keeping the harm done to it as low as possible. A certain amount of import and export trade with India and the Dominions would have to continue.

The War Cabinet considered the idea on May 30th, 1917, and approved it. Our shipping arrangements were thereupon adapted as far as possible to the plan so approved, and during the extremely difficult and anxious time through which we were passing in the summer and autumn of 1917, these arrangements greatly increased the carrying capacity of our shipping, and helped very considerably to bring us through.

Practical measures of this sort, based upon enlightened common sense and carried out by competent business men, were among the measures adopted to increase the effective capacity of our tonnage and thus neutralise the ravages of the submarines. But they by no measure cover the whole of the plans adopted by the Ministry to make a more businesslike use of our tonnage. In the next chapter I propose to describe other steps they took to economise our sea transport.

1. Relieving Congestion at the Ports

The unprecedented activities of the War led to a complete overthrow of the normal organisation and functioning of British ports. This is not surprising in view of the fact that the whole of Britain’s war effort had to go through her ports and harbours. Our Navy was using many of our harbours as bases for some of its activities. Southampton was closed to merchant shipping. Prize cargoes of war contraband were being constantly brought into the ports and dumped in the warehouses along the wharves, to wait the adjudication of the Prize Court. Government purchases of supplies arrived in big consignments and had to wait distribution. This exceptional activity on unusual lines would in any event have created a great deal of confusion and congestion. The problem was intensified by the fact that so many of the regular dock workers had joined up and, as a result, there was a shortage of labour to handle goods.

The steps taken to deal with this problem during the first part of the War can be briefly summarised.

As early as January 22nd, 1915, a deputation of shipowners waited on the President of the Board of Trade to call his attention to the congestion of the ports and to make a series of recommendations, including the pooling of privately owned railway trucks; the coördination of military and commercial demands; penal rents on goods not promptly removed from quays; and an enquiry into the question of labour at the ports. Strong but unavailing resolutions were also passed by the Shipping Committee in the course of 1915 as to the need for dealing with port congestion. Their representations, says Mr. C. E. Fayle,^[18] were either ignored or went astray in the mazes of departmental routine. It was nearly ten months after the January deputation before the Port and Transit Executive Committee was set up to deal with the matter. It at once began what developed into a persistent struggle with the recruiting authorities to prevent men being called up for the Army from the ranks of dock workers.

Among the reasons urged for the restriction of imports by the Shipping Control Committee in their memorandum of February 10th, 1916, on this subject occurs the following statement:

Other suggestions were put forward by the Shipping Committee in their memorandum of February 10th, and discussed from time to time. Some of them reached the formal stage of approval by the Board of Trade and sanction by the War Committee. Only a few travelled any distance beyond that stage.

Mr. Runciman, in his memorandum of October 24th, 1916—that is, nearly two years after the shipowners had called his attention to the congestion at the ports and its causes—said:

Mr. Runciman followed this up by a further memorandum on November 9th, in the course of which he said:

Meantime, a memorandum on November 1st, 1916, submitted by the Shipping Control Committee directed attention to the congestion of our transport in French ports:

With regard to the question of importing foreign labour for work at the docks, the Committee’s report stated:

These matters were brought forward at the War Committee on November 3rd, 1916, when it was decided to see what could be done in the way of using foreign labour in French ports. But, taking it all in all, no really effective steps were taken in 1915 and 1916 to organise the traffic at the ports, with a view to saving time and tonnage. There was some fumbling about the mobilisation of a Transport Labour Battalion at the ports, but it came to nothing.

When the increase of shipping facilities was becoming more and more a matter of life and death to the nation and its Allies, these removable delays were intolerable. Up to the present, they had been met by facile and fatalist predictions that we could carry on for a few more months and no longer. The new Government felt it must cleave a way through all these difficulties and that it could be done. There were serious obstacles but they must be overcome. The congestion problem is an illustration of the nature of the difficulties and of the way they were gradually removed.

On January 31st, 1917, the Shipping Controller submitted to the War Cabinet a memorandum respecting delays at certain ports in unloading cargoes.

It was suggested that if the railways could handle the cargoes more expeditiously, the ships would be “turned round” more speedily, and the result would be an estimated saving in tonnage of four million to five million tons per annum. At the instance of Sir Albert Stanley, an Inter-departmental Committee composed of representatives of the Shipping Controller, Ministry of Munitions and Board of Trade, was set up to investigate and report what steps, if any, could be taken which would secure the quicker unloading of the ships.

This Committee produced a first Summary Report on February 16th, 1917, suggesting a series of drastic measures.

The Report of the Committee was considered by the War Cabinet on February 19th, and the following conclusions were reached in respect of the Committee’s ten points:

All these recommendations were promptly put into operation with almost startling results in the way of releasing tonnage for the High Seas. The submarine was fought on land as well as on sea, and it was the combination that beat off the attack and thus saved the Allies from overwhelming disaster.

Not all the delays suffered by shipping were due to slowness in handling their loading, unloading and bunkering in ports. Frequently they would be held up in port for some days on account of reports of a submarine in the vicinity. It was calculated that during the end of 1916 and the early months of 1917, the Germans had established an efficient outward blockade by this means equivalent to forty per cent. of the days in a year.

A further complication was added by the fact that with the extension of Government requisitioning the owners ceased to have the same interest in their business. They did not appear to realise that now, if ever, was the time when their utmost efforts should be put forth to get their ships round quickly. They were still working as in peace time, each company with its private berths, and no one working for the common good, to help his neighbours, either by offering the use of an empty berth or by turning over a supply of bunkers which were not immediately required.

The result was that a great deal more time was being spent in Liverpool than was necessary; nor was the situation in America much better. Some of the large, fast ships, such as the Adriatic, were taking fifty to fifty-five days for the round trip, as against twenty-five days in 1916. This difficulty had to be dealt with by bringing Government pressure to bear on shipowners who were disposed to take too narrow and selfish a view of their responsibilities in a national emergency.

The difficulties arising out of the grouping of ships under the convoy system were also dealt with.

In January, 1918, a Convoy Committee was formed by the Liverpool shipowners, with the sanction of the Ministry of Shipping, and the Ministry also invited the New York owners to form a similar committee. Port convoy officers, similar to those who had been appointed here, were sent to the United States in the spring of 1918, and the Ministry of Shipping’s Report on Convoys states that:

Up to the end of the War it was of course inevitable that the exceptional difficulties under which all shipping had to operate should involve a certain measure of delay as compared with peace-time conditions. But under the Ministry of Shipping these delays were thus gradually reduced and avoided in a very high degree.

By these measures the shipping capacity of the country was very considerably increased at a time when our actual tonnage was being appreciably reduced by the action of submarines.

2. Control and Restriction of Imports

Now we come to the further measures taken by the Government to secure the most economical use of our dwindling shipping resources, and to cut down as fully as possible all nonessential imports, in order to concentrate upon the supply of the nation’s rigidly essential needs.

These measures ought to have been taken systematically as soon as it became clear—as it certainly did in 1915—that the War might last for years and would strain the resources of the belligerent nations to the utmost, and especially when it became evident that our tonnage was becoming more and more inadequate to the demands made upon it. Whilst our vital war demands were increasing and would continue to increase, our available shipping was diminishing through submarine action and ordinary sea losses and being insufficiently replaced. The measures enforced prior to 1917 for the limitation of imports were of a timid and half-hearted character and had only a very limited effect in determining which of our imports should be sacrificed to the shipping shortage.

There were two lines of action by which the Government and the nation could adapt themselves to the reduction in their imports forced upon them by shortage of shipping. One was to cut down consumption to the lowest practicable limits, in fact, confining it to the barest essentials. The other was to increase to the utmost the home production of commodities formerly imported. Both methods were applied by the Government as fully as possible during the last two years of the War. In this section I deal only with the first.

Economising is always a painful process. Few and exceptionally fortunate are the households that have never come face to face with the necessity for cutting down superfluities and even some comforts, owing to a temporary financial stress. It is always a struggle to begin the process. Afterwards it becomes easier. In practice it is almost invariably put off to the last moment. Experience tends to show that it is often postponed until it is too late to save the family from irretrievable bankruptcy. In this case starvation threatened the whole nation. When at last we grappled with our problem we recognised that stern economy is much easier to achieve if it is universally enforced, for selfishness is not the greatest obstacle to reducing expenditure, but habit and, more particularly, pride. The intervention of a superior authority breaks the force of habit and pride is mollified by the fact that all our neighbours are in the same plight. When it is a national necessity, patriotism enlists pride on the side of sacrifice. No one then can point the finger of hurtful pity at the reduced household, for under these conditions it is the extravagant that become objects of public scorn. The gap between the habitual standard of life and the irreducible minimum varies according to countries, and in every country it varies according to classes. But all countries and most classes can sacrifice something without being reduced to a weakening penury. It is only when ingredients essential to sustain vitality are dispensed with that the health of the people begins to suffer. In foodstuffs, drink, clothes, amenities, amusements, there was a good deal that Britain could give up without damage to its health. There were some demands essential to the upkeep and development of a civilised community, e.g. the building of new houses or the repair and decoration of the old, which could be put off for two or three years without inflicting intolerable hardship on the community. The postponement of building operations led to a great deal of overcrowding in munition areas, but at its worst it was not comparable to the insanitary congestion of the slums. It is when deprivation becomes privation—when the cutting down cuts to the quick—that the national strength and morale become impaired. That is what happened in Russia, Germany and Austria. Could we avert a like catastrophe here? This was our problem.

We were faced with an inevitable reduction of our total imports. We had to ask three questions. First: what can the nation do without—that is, without impairing its efficiency? Secondly: how much deprivation will it stand without perilous disgruntlement? Thirdly: to what extent can we produce at home essential commodities hitherto brought across the seas? This last question is dealt with in other chapters. Here we are concerned with the two former questions and with the policy of import restriction framed in relation to them.

A certain restriction of imports was imposed on the country by the reduction in the tonnage available to bring them to our shores. I have spoken elsewhere of the immense demands on our shipping made by our expeditionary forces and by our Allies. Added to this was the reduction in available tonnage caused by war and marine losses, and by the falling-off in the rate of shipbuilding during the first two years of War. When the vessels withdrawn for war services, and those sunk and lost, were subtracted from our original total, there was nothing like enough tonnage left to maintain our imports at the pre-War level. The question was not: shall we have fewer imports? That was inevitable. It was: shall we deliberately cut away the imports we can do without and concentrate on those that are essential; or shall we leave it to chance, in the hope that without choice or direction the most important commodities will find their way to us?

Nothing could be more significant of the change which the Second Coalition introduced into the handling of our shipping resources than the way in which successive Ministers dealt with this question of imports. Sir Joseph Maclay and Mr. Runciman were both shipowners; the former by practice, the latter by parentage. While Sir Joseph Maclay grappled with the problem on the principle that complete control was vital, Mr. Runciman’s treatment of it suffered from that spirit of procrastination and timidity, from that readiness to assume that something resolved at a committee was thereby an accomplished fact, which in this and other Departments of State brought us by the end of 1916 perilously near the precipice.

In 1913, the imports into this country totalled nearly fifty-three million tons in weight. In the first year of the War, despite the enormously increased pressure of demand for goods, they fell to fifty million tons. The main discriminating factor which determined what goods should be left out was the rise in freight rates resulting from that pressure of demand, operating on a reduced supply of tonnage. The goods which could best afford to pay the bigger rates were imported. The others were cut out. This was not a planned process; and there was no guarantee that it would give us the goods we most needed. It was, fortunately, supplemented by other measures. Steps were taken very early to ensure our supplies of meat and wheat by requisitioning refrigerator ships and wheat vessels, and later on the M’Kenna Duties were imposed to restrict luxury imports. In November, 1915, the Ship Licensing Committee began to help the situation by refusing licences where the charters were for the carriage of wasteful and unnecessary imports. But the system of licence could not be pressed far in this service without a plan behind it for the imports which were and those which were not to be permitted.

Speaking of the position at that stage in the War, Fayle says:

On February 10th, 1916, the Shipping Control Committee presented a report to the President of the Board of Trade, outlining the position with regard to British tonnage available for supplying the needs of this country, and urging the restriction of imports which could best be dispensed with as the only way in which our shipping would be enabled to cope with its task.

The report showed that out of 3,468 steamers of 1,600 tons gross and upwards, with a total tonnage of 15,441,000 tons, the number already requisitioned for war purposes, or trading in other parts of the world (not to and from the United Kingdom), was 1,894, with a tonnage of 8,373,000 tons. Thus, for carrying essential imports for the ordinary needs of the population there were only 1,574 vessels available, with a gross tonnage of 7,068,000 tons—less than half the British mercantile fleet. In this total of 1,574 were included those vessels that had been requisitioned by the Admiralty to bring wheat and sugar to Great Britain.

Figures were submitted to show that 10,328,000 tons gross of British shipping would be needed, after making allowance for the maximum amount of goods that might be carried in foreign vessels, to meet the import trade of the United Kingdom on the level of the first year of the War, and to furnish certain extra tonnage for which our allies France and Italy were making urgent demands. Our available shipping fell short of this by three and one-quarter million tons gross, representing the carrying capacity for thirteen million tons’ weight of imports in a year.

The maximum we could hope to obtain by the aid of British and foreign shipping in 1915 would be thirty-seven million tons, and the Committee proceeded to face the question of how we could best arrange to meet the hardship involved in foregoing about twenty-five per cent. of the imports we had obtained—nearly fifty million tons—in the previous year.

The Shipping Control Committee did not put forward a list of the items which should be totally or partially prohibited to achieve this result. They made, instead, a list of the items of food and raw materials and other essential commodities which they considered we should have to import. These, they proposed, should be imported on the 1915 scale, except in the case of timber and paper and paper-making materials, where they suggested definite cuts—of 1,000,000 tons of timber and 800,000 tons of paper and paper-making materials. Subject to these cuts, their list of essential imports totalled 35,375,000 tons. A margin was thus left of 1,635,000 tons to complete the possible thirty-seven million tons of imports, and they proposed that everything outside their list should be prohibited, beyond a few miscellaneous necessary articles which might be covered by the million odd tons of the margin.

The plan was a somewhat blunt and crude one. Sir Arthur Salter says of it:

As events subsequently proved, the Shipping Control Committee took too pessimistic a view of the importing capacity of our shipping resources. Instead of only thirty-seven million tons, we succeeded in 1916 in importing forty-two and three-tenths million tons, so that the restriction of our total imports imposed on us by the force majeure of shipping shortage was not thirteen million but less than eight million tons.

Unfortunately, however, only a small part of this enforced reduction was planned for by the Board of Trade. After they had examined the situation in the light of the Committee’s report, Mr. Runciman reported to the War Committee, on March 8th, 1916, that the utmost deliberate reduction in nonessential imports which at that moment he could definitely hope to achieve by methods of restriction did not exceed four million tons. The War Committee recommended that the President of the Board of Trade should have a free hand to use his discretion in cutting down imports, subject to reference, in particular cases, to the Departments concerned.

How did the four million undertaking work out? On October 24th, 1916 (seven months after the undertaking to plan a reduction of four million tons), Mr. Runciman presented a memorandum on the subject of Merchant Shipping, in which, speaking of the restriction of imports, he said that the full effect of the restrictions he had devised had not yet been experienced, but it was estimated that the total annual saving would amount to something between 1,500,000 and 1,800,000 tons’ weight of imports. He added that after careful enquiry, the Board of Trade were of the opinion that it was not practicable to bring about further material reduction of unessential imports by the instrument of direct prohibition. A further reduction would be secured indirectly by high prices, by the gradual cessation of unessential industries in the country, owing to withdrawal of labour, etc., and by the very fact of the shortage of ships.

A very lengthy list had by this time been compiled of provisionally prohibited goods, which could only be imported by permission and licence of the Board of Trade. But such licence was forthcoming freely enough to cut down the possible effect of the prohibition to the slender limits indicated by Mr. Runciman, whose main hope continued to be, not in a fully planned control of imports, but in the undirected and uncontrolled operation of high freights. In the absence both of a considered restriction of imports and of national requisition of all our shipping, tonnage strayed into voyages where the freights were fat. So that while shipping shortage cut down our 1916 imports by between seven and eight millions tons, not more than one and one-half million tons were excluded through deliberate restrictions.

On December 15th, 1916, after the change of government, the Shipping Control Committee sent a long communication to me in reply to my request for information on merchant shipping, shipowners’ profits, and cutting down of imports. In this letter they said:

Ten months’ discussion, examination and recommendation by an able and influential Committee had produced “negligible” results, when we were face to face with defeat through lack of sea transport for essentials. Committees are helpful to guide men of action on the right course. But for weak or remiss administrators they only afford an excuse for postponing movement on embarrassing questions.

Following upon this communication, I had an interview with the Shipping Controller and brought the matter to the notice of the War Cabinet on December 21st, 1916. We decided that an Inter-departmental Committee should be at once assembled to consider and report on the question of the restriction of imports.

An exhaustive examination of all our imports was made, in order to determine where the necessary reductions could best be made. A programme was prepared, based on the assumption of imports being half a million tons a month (i.e., six million tons a year) less in 1917 than in 1916. A detailed programme of restrictions was submitted to meet the expected six-million-ton fall in our imports. The cuts proposed affected a large range of commodities. With one of the largest items, timber, and with the way in which we were able to adopt it, I deal in another section. In paper and paper-making materials a cut of fifty per cent. of the 1916 imports was proposed. To ease the strain upon our grain imports, a further drastic reduction of brewing was proposed, of which I gave an account in the chapter on Food. Feeding stuffs for farm stocks were cut down; and this step, by tending to bring about an earlier and more extensive killing of stock, made possible a reduction in meat imports. Altogether the proposals of the Committee were of a very drastic character, and they were approved with slight modification by the Government.

But meantime the intensive submarine campaign against our shipping had got under way. In the first two months of 1917, nine hundred thousand tons of Allied and Neutral shipping were sent to the bottom, and with them we lost the valuable cargoes of grain and other essential imports they were carrying. It became clear that we should have to reckon on a reduction, not of six million but of eight, ten or more millions of tons of imports. The Committee promptly met this challenge by further proposals, which they submitted on February 21st, 1917, for still more drastic cuts in timber, paper, fruit, and vegetables, glass bottles, feeding stuffs, iron ore, sugar and other commodities. They suggested that sugar rationing might enable sugar imports to be reduced without serious hardship. The more important of these reductions were approved by the Cabinet.

No time was lost in putting into force these various measures. A report of the Board of Trade, dated May 10th, 1917, on “Imports in Relation to Shipping”, showed that by the month of April—the second month after these restrictions were planned—the decrease in the imports of restricted goods, as compared with the volume of imports of these goods in April, 1916, was 499,000 tons for the month. Thus the initial aim of a planned reduction of 500,000 tons a month had in fact been achieved already.

The report said that, “To meet the necessity of curtailment a policy was adopted which was originally intended to save about 4,500,000 tons in 1917, and there are prospects of its saving more than 6,000,000.”

Our actual imports in 1917 were 7.9 million tons less than in 1916. In the course of the year, six million tons of Allied and Neutral shipping were sunk by the enemy, most of it with cargoes. It is clear that only the careful organisation of our imports, which secured that upwards of six million tons of the reductions imposed on us by our shipping losses should fall on classes of goods we could arrange to dispense with, made it possible for the country to carry on its activities effectively in the face of such an attack.

But it is fair to say that the achievement was the result of a coördinated effort which made us less dependent on overseas supplies even for essentials. Food production at home was increased by efforts which I describe elsewhere in this volume. Timber felling was organised thoroughly so that we could dispense with the bulky cargoes which took up so much of our tonnage. We opened up disused iron, copper, and manganese mines. We drew more of the necessaries of individual and national existence from our own internal resources than we had done for at least half a century.

The task was immense. Control was extended over practically all commodities. All ships, tramps and liners alike, were brought under requisition. Restriction and economy were enforced in every direction. Sir Arthur Salter gives a description of the process:

The difficulties of control and restriction are evident in this picture; but so also is the fact that a system was evolved which during the last two years of the War exercised a real guiding control over the whole field of imports and carried out a flexible, day-to-day adaptation of its restrictive powers, so as to secure at all times the exclusion of the less vital in favour of the more vital imports. Thereby we won through the acute perils of 1917. Had we continued the haphazard methods of 1916, which offered systematic planning to cover only 1,500,000 to 1,800,000 tons of the reduction of imports which we had to face, it needs little foresight to perceive what disaster would have overtaken us before 1917 was half spent.

3. The Supply of Home-grown Timber

As the shipping shortage developed and measures had to be devised to economise our available tonnage, the imports of timber were regarded as a commodity specially suitable for restriction, both because timber is very bulky in relation to its value, and because it was possible to replace for a time a great deal of our imports by supplies produced at home, from the woods and forests of Britain and France.

Hitherto the timber of Great Britain had been a very badly neglected asset. At the outbreak of the War, Britain had a smaller proportion of wood and forest land than any country in Europe except Portugal; and the output of our three million acres of woodland was about one third of what it should have been under efficient management. A beginning had been made with the scientific development of afforestation by the Development Commissioners under the Development and Road Improvement Funds Act, which I carried in 1909, but there had been little time before the War for the Commissioners to achieve anything definite in a matter such as afforestation, where time is counted not in years but in decades. Just before the War, the annual felling of British timber was estimated to amount to about forty-five million cubic feet—nearly a million loads—while our imports in 1913 were 10.4 million loads.

The timber was required for a variety of indispensable uses. Nearly three million loads consisted of pit props and pit wood for use in the coal mines. A very large quantity was needed for building. Furniture took its share. And a great deal of the imported soft wood was used for making boxes, packing cases and crates for the dispatch and distribution of manufactured goods.

With the advent of the War, the demand for timber grew considerably. Manufacture of armaments and munitions made an increased demand for coal, and so for pit props. The swelling torrent of supplies which poured overseas to our expeditionary forces called for an immense number of boxes, including ammunition boxes. If private building largely stopped, building of factories, of army hutments, both here and in France, went on very rapidly, and for this work wood was in chief demand. Trench warfare again involved wood, as did railway construction behind the lines, with its call for innumerable sleepers, and there were the miles of duckboards needed to cross the sodden and shell-pocked areas.

Wood, in short, was more than ever indispensable. But we could not spare the tonnage space to carry this bulky commodity here from distant countries. As early as 1915, the Government set up the Home-grown Timber Committee to promote the development of timber supplies from our own native resources, and early in 1916, when the first steps were taken to effect a reduction in our imports, it was decided to cut down the imports of pit props and seek to obtain them more largely from sources in this country.

Timber imports showed an inevitable drop during the first two years of the War, but not so great a drop as might have been expected, in view of the possibility of substituting the home-grown article. The Final Report of the Forestry Sub-committee of the Reconstruction Committee, issued in May, 1917, estimated that the 1915 timber imports represented 75 per cent. and those of 1916, 62 per cent. of the average imports in the five years before the War. But as all our imports were lower in these two years, the proportional reduction was much slighter. In 1909-1913, timber averaged 11.6 per cent. of our total imports; in 1915 it was 11.4 per cent. and in 1916, 10.5 per cent.

The serious shipping situation with which the new War Cabinet was confronted at the beginning of 1917 called, as is told in another section, for further drastic reductions of imports. Lord Curzon’s Committee, set up by the Cabinet on December 21st, 1916, to examine this question, recommended that out of a total restriction of 500,000 tons a month, 200,000 tons should be at the expense of timber imports. The War Cabinet examined the Committee’s Report on February 16th, 1917, and in order to ensure that such a reduction should be carried out without leading to such a timber shortage as would hamper our military efforts, we decided to appoint a Director of Timber Supplies at the War Office, with an Inter-departmental Committee to assist him. The first holder of this post was Sir J. Bampfylde Fuller. On February 19th, we decided at a War Cabinet meeting that timber imports must be cut down by a further 100,000 tons a month—making a total reduction of 300,000 tons a month. The question was further considered by us on February 21st. A memorandum submitted by the Committee on Restriction of Imports pointed out that the reduction of timber imports by the amount of 200,000 tons a month originally proposed would leave the timber imports in 1917 at a rate of 364,000 tons a month; a further reduction of 100,000 tons would thus mean cutting off well over half our 1916 timber imports. There was timber enough in France and the United Kingdom to replace this amount, but possibilities of greater home production were limited by labour shortage, scarcity of sawing plant, and difficulties of transport. In this country we could produce a further 1,000,000 tons of pit props, in addition to the 300,000 tons already allowed for, if labour and transport could be forthcoming. And if large additional supplies of labour were made available in France, the import of sawn timber for the use of the Expeditionary Force could be considerably reduced.

We asked the War Office to enlist the aid of a timber expert to see how far the total requirements of our Army in France could be met from supplies of timber in the vicinity of our Front; what labour could be provided by the Army, and what transport was needed there. I may here say that a great deal of timber cutting was organised in France by the late Lord Lovat, largely with labour furnished by Canadian lumbermen drawn from the Canadian Expeditionary Force in France.

With regard to the problem of increasing our home output of timber, we decided to make enquiries of our Dominions to see how far they could help with skilled men, and also to enquire about the possibility of obtaining Finnish and other foreign labour for the work.

The War Office had already asked the Canadian Government for five thousand Canadian lumbermen. On March 2nd, 1917, the War Cabinet was informed by the Canadian representatives that they would do their best to increase this number; it would be easier if the men were not required to wear khaki. Those already being supplied were in uniform and were drawn from the Canadian forces. We also received an offer of fifteen hundred lumbermen from Newfoundland.

One of the difficulties of timber-cutting in this country was that the available woodlands were often individually small and widely scattered, so that apart from the Royal Forests there were few acres where large-scale sawing machinery was either available or capable of being economically used. But at our meeting of March 2nd I was able to report to the War Cabinet a generous offer by Mr. Alfred de Rothschild of his two valuable forests in the Chilterns as a free gift to the country. This offer had been communicated to me by him in the following letter:

I promptly replied, expressing my appreciation of the generous spirit which prompted him to make this gift, by which the country would greatly benefit; and the War Cabinet also sent him its thanks when I communicated to them the terms of the offer. It was very happily timed to help us in our immediate difficulties, and before long the splendid slopes of beech forest on the Chilterns were laid low by Canadian lumberjacks.

Scotland was at this time our bright spot for home-produced timber. The trade there was well-organised, and Scotland was not only self-supporting in regard to its chief timber requirements, particularly in pit props, but was able to send supplies to some of the northern counties of England. It had a highly skilled labour force of 4,500 men, for which its timber merchants put up a most dogged fight when in May, 1917, the War Office proposed to call up a number of them for the Army.

In England and Wales we had at this time no such well-organised body of native foresters, and we had to make use of men rejected for the Army, of soldiers temporarily released, of Canadian and Newfoundland lumbermen, Portuguese, Finnish seamen from torpedoed ships, prisoners of war, and women workers. A contingent of United States lumbermen came over in 1917, but was presently transferred to the American Forestry Corps in France.

This miscellaneous array of labour had a task of vital importance to fulfil. For our timber imports in 1917 were perforce cut down very drastically. Whereas in 1913 they had amounted altogether to over eleven and one half million tons, in 1917 they were reduced to 2,875,000 tons. Part of this reduction was provided for by very careful economies. A great deal of our requirements for our Expeditionary Force was met by forestry work in France. At home we raised the output of timber of all kinds in the United Kingdom from the pre-war level of about 900,000 tons to three million tons in 1917. In 1918 this was increased still further to over four and one fourth million tons, of which two million tons represented mining timber. The imports in 1918 were reduced by 1,200,000 tons from the 1917 level.

The nature of the labour used for this work is shown by the following extract from a Report of the Timber Supply Department at the end of 1918:

This report, which was furnished to me by the Department on October 28th, 1918, concluded with the statement that: “The steps taken are such that there is every hope of tiding over the period of the War.” This hope was splendidly fulfilled.

There was no more useful contribution to our mortal struggle with the submarine than this organisation of our home supplies of timber. It stripped this island of some of its best forest. Alas, the efforts made to replenish the loss have been perfunctory. Not only most of our hillsides, but large areas once clad in fine timber are now bare and broken. The lesson of the War has not yet been learnt in this and many other respects. Punishment is apt to teach the wrong lessons to its victims.

1. Food Production

The established order reacts slowly and reluctantly to the appearance of an unexpected factor. No better illustration of this can be found than the manner in which the war direction of all belligerent countries overlooked the importance of organising food supplies for their citizens during the War. The feeding of armies was of course an important consideration in all wars. But food for noncombatants was their own concern. An army marched on its stomach, but there was no need to trouble about the marching equipment of those who stayed at home.

The food question ultimately decided the issue of this War. It was directly responsible for the downfall of Russia, finally it was the element that led to the collapse of Austria and Germany. Indirectly it was responsible for bringing America into the War, since Germany’s indiscriminate submarine warfare was her answer to our blockade. Yet at first, and for some time, Germany was so indifferent to the jeopardy of famine lying in wait for her just below the horizon, that in 1915 she was selling grain to Holland. France had a real excuse in her occupied provinces for the serious deficiency in her wheat supplies. The Russian Government was thinking only of how it could supply forage for its immense cavalry establishment, which rendered no decisive service in the War, and the transport which should have been used to feed the cities was diverted to the feeding of idle horses and useless horsemen. Here in Britain, whilst we were short of shipping for imperative war demands and our food supplies from overseas were becoming more and more precarious, we were allowing our own fertile soil to go out of cultivation without making any effort to keep up its yield of essential food. What is the explanation of so obtuse and general a neglect of this vital war front?

The War, in the view of the experts chiefly concerned with its direction, was an affair of the manœuvring and clashing of armies and navies. The food problem ended with the field kitchen. This was due to the general assumption that war on so colossal a scale could not last long. On that point both pacifist and militarist could agree to sit on the same parapet in complete accord. The pacifist predicted that the financial bankruptcy of nations would quickly supervene, and that the fires of war would soon die down for lack of fuel. He held, too, that the deadliness of modern weapons would effect losses so ghastly that after a short experience men would refuse to face them. The militarist was convinced that the onslaught of his huge armies with their shattering equipment would prove irresistible and that complete victory could be a matter of only a few months. It is a proof of the tenacity with which a rooted conviction clings that neither the men of peace nor the men of war were able to change their outlook, even after the battles of the Marne and of Ypres had revealed the inconclusive character of the fighting. In 1915 they still believed that a rapid decision was likely—the Germans on the Eastern Front, the French and British on the Western. Why therefore waste energy and man power on the harvests of 1916, 1917 and 1918? It was a great piece of luck for us that we were not alone in cherishing this dangerous obsession. Neither intelligence nor stupidity are the monopoly of any single nation. Victory is a question of the balance at the critical moment. This fortuitous circumstance constituted an important element in saving us and ruining Germany. Had she devoted a reasonable share of forethought to her precarious food position, and started in 1915 to concentrate her scientific resources and great organising gifts on food production, she might have averted the disasters of 1918 and achieved a less humiliating peace.

The conflict of foresight and obtuseness is clearly shown in the record of our own dealings with this issue. As early as the summer of 1915 a committee was set up under the presidency of Lord Milner to consider measures for increasing the output of food. It reported that the country must go back to the agricultural system of the ‘seventies; it must recover the old arable area by ploughing up the land which in the intervening decades had been laid down to permanent grass. A million more acres should be put under wheat. Guaranteed prices should be accorded for a four-year period to give farmers an inducement to break up their pasture, and better wages should be secured to agricultural workers.

This intelligent and constructive proposal had to wait nearly two years before it was carried into effect. The Government of the day rejected it. Lord Selborne, the Minister of Agriculture, told a meeting of agriculturists on August 26th, 1915, that in view of the favourable reports of the harvests in Canada and Australia, and of the unusually good harvest secured that year in Britain, and

At that period the submarine menace had begun temporarily to slacken down, as the Germans were frightened at the storms of protest raised among Neutral nations by their campaign. For the next few months it continued to be at a low ebb, and the alarming heights to which it would rise in the autumn of 1916 were not foreseen. But everywhere in 1916 the seasons were bad. The total cereal crops of Canada, the United States and the Argentine were lower than those for 1915 by nearly 40,000,000 tons. The wheat yield in the United Kingdom fell off by over 400,000 tons. Add to this the sudden and ominous rise in the rate of submarine sinkings and it will be seen that there was no ground left for complacent optimism.

THE RT. HONOURABLE VISCOUNT DEVONPORT

I had always been concerned about our food supplies. In an earlier chapter of these Memoirs^[21] I have described how the steadily growing shortage of food became in the course of 1916 a serious menace, and how Lord Crawford and I urged repeatedly on the Cabinet a programme of food production and the appointment of a Food Controller to supervise distribution. For long I had been of opinion—and still am—that with improved scientific knowledge of soil fertilization and productivity and with mechanical devices we could at least double the yield of our land. I had been in touch for years with the more enlightened agriculturists of the kingdom, and my conviction was based on their experience.

How the situation was viewed by a well-informed observer is shown by the following letter, written to me by one of the foremost of them, Sir Christopher Turnor, in November, 1916, a fortnight before I became Prime Minister:

Yet our efforts to get this matter dealt with by the First Coalition was disregarded. It was not the fault of the Ministers of Agriculture, who did their best to draw attention to the danger and to urge strong action. Looking back on that period, one could almost imagine that a powerful junta within the Government had made up their minds that we could not win, and that the War must therefore be brought to an end as early as possible, and that for this reason they opposed any plans which might encourage its prolongation—failing to comprehend that an inevitable peace meant a bad peace. Maybe, however, it was just stupidity and inertia on their part. Let us give them the benefit of the doubt whichever plea is put in on their behalf.

When I formed my Administration in December, 1916, I was convinced that if this country should endure to victory, it was essential that both branches of the food problem—production and distribution—should be tackled vigorously and without delay. I therefore regarded the food problem as one of our most important concerns. Food production was entrusted to Mr. Prothero, the Minister of Agriculture, and Sir Richard Winfrey, his Parliamentary Secretary. They were both men who had a thorough practical knowledge of agriculture in all its aspects. As to the distribution and rationing of supplies, I invited Lord Devonport to become the first Food Controller. It was a post for which his long and successful business training as a great food distributor, coupled with his experience in public administration, eminently fitted him. He was the architect of great commercial undertakings dealing with the supply of provisions. He had also been Chairman of the Port of London Authority from 1909. Before that he had been Parliamentary Secretary to the Board of Trade since the end of 1905.

The office of Food Controller was one calling for definite executive ability of a high order. Here was no Department which would run smoothly under a mediocre head on the ball bearings of an expert permanent staff of civil servants. Some one was needed who would on the one hand take firm and vigorous measures to ensure a sufficient food supply for the needs of the civil population, the armed forces of the Crown, and our Allies on the Continent; and on the other hand, would devise suitable measures of restriction and distribution to make a limited and seemingly inadequate supply stretch out over these demands. It was a double problem, each aspect involving stern interference with some of the most individualistic and conservative industries in the country. The first task involved close coöperation with the Board of Agriculture, Ministry of Shipping, Ministry of National Service and the War Office; the second required a firm and tactful handling of the distributive trades and the general public. As far as distribution was concerned Lord Devonport was well qualified to cope with the complex issues involved.

I felt that as a pre-condition for success, it was essential that we should take the public into our confidence by a frank revelation of the facts. It might give temporary encouragement to the enemy. This consideration always arose whenever it was a question of taking the public into your confidence. Sometimes in war there are weaknesses and defects which it is important a nation should keep from the enemies’ knowledge, in so far as that is possible. That involves not revealing them to your own nationals. What is known to forty-six million people cannot be long preserved as a secret from the knowledge of the world. But if it is withheld from your own nation, then you cannot rouse national apprehension, zeal and energy in the task of remedying the deficiencies. To judge where the balance of advantage lies is one of the most perplexing and responsible tasks of statesmanship. In the matter of munitions I concluded that the advantage to be reaped from willing coöperation at home more than balanced the important drawback of cheering the foe by an exposure of facts with which they were already cognisant. I came to the same conclusion about our food supplies. I therefore gave a clear indication of the nature of these problems and of the methods by which we proposed to deal with them, in my first speech to the House as Prime Minister, on December 19th, 1916. In the course of that speech I said:

This account of the food position did not in any way exaggerate the serious nature of the food problem with which we were now confronted. Government neglect and bad weather had combined to menace our resources. The acreage sown with winter wheat was less than ever. Such as there was had been damaged by weather. It was over late to prepare additional ground on any considerable scale for spring sowing. The prospects for the 1917 harvest were dark. Our expectation of being able to maintain our food supplies until that harvest was reaped were darkening with every week’s returns of ships sunk by the submarines. But if my speech fairly reflected the blackness of the outlook, it reflected no less the practical and energetic policy which the Government had resolved to adopt.

On December 13th, 1916, six days before my speech, and only four since the Government had been formed, the new War Cabinet held a special session to consider the food question and the organisation of home production. Lord Devonport, the new Food Controller, and Captain Bathurst (now Lord Bledisloe) as centre back of the new Food Department, were present, along with Mr. R. E. Prothero (now Lord Ernle), the President of the Board of Agriculture. The Cabinet reached the following conclusions. They have a bearing on the problems of to-day, for they represent an arrangement between producer and consumer where the interests of both are directly concerned.

Put briefly, these resolutions meant that neither precedent nor price was to be allowed to hinder the production of food for the people. There was no time to lose, for the increase in our home food supplies was not something which could be easily or rapidly achieved. The harvest of 1916 had been poor; cereal crops small, potatoes few and diseased. If food was scarce, labour, owing to injudicious recruiting, was scarcer. There was a shortage of fertilisers, feeding stuffs and tractors. The land had been badly let down in labour and manure at a time when its help was needed more than ever. The prospect for 1917 was therefore worse than for 1916. Only exceptional measures could hold out a prospect of an increased food production, particularly as the shipping shortage and restriction of imports handicapped the supply of feeding stuffs for animals and fertilisers for the soil.

An essential preliminary was to create an instrument suitable for carrying out our policy, and on January 1st, 1917, the Board of Agriculture established a Food Production Department, under the direction of Sir T. H. Middleton, to organise the expansion of tillage. The next step was to acquire appropriate powers, and on January 10th, 1917, a Regulation was issued by Order in Council, which gave the Board of Agriculture and Fisheries (and, in Scotland, the Board of Agriculture, Scotland) power to make orders bearing on the better cultivation of agricultural land. The Regulation empowered the Board to take over any land which they considered was being inadequately cultivated, to commandeer any implements or farm stock required for food production, regulate the use of land and order the ploughing-up of grassland, to dispossess farmers who were not producing enough food from their land, and put some one else in charge. Food was a munition of war and in its production the national interest was asserted as paramount, and no vested interests or class privileges were to be allowed to stand in the way of the safety of the nation, or hamper its successful accomplishment of the terrible enterprise to which it had been committed by events. This Regulation was only the first of a series which we issued from time to time, authorising drastic measures to ensure land cultivation and food production.

These compulsory powers were essential as a weapon to be held in reserve for dealing with individual recalcitrants. But to secure a big food production drive for the 1917 harvest we had to enlist the good will and voluntary coöperation of the farmers in general. Early in February, Mr. Prothero and I decided to call into our council to aid our food production the services of Sir Arthur Lee (now Lord Lee of Fareham), who had rendered us such notable assistance in the organisation of munitions. The Food Production Department set up at the beginning of January had already been considerably enlarged and developed. We now made it an independent department, under a Director-General, responsible to the Minister, but otherwise unrelated to the Board of Agriculture. This post was offered by us to Sir Arthur Lee and in due course accepted by him. Prothero and Lee were an ideal combination for this undertaking. The former with his great agricultural experience, his tact, suavity and persuasive manner and speech; the latter bringing to his task the same persistence, energy and resource that he had already displayed in his work for the Ministry of Munitions, to which I have already referred elsewhere. The new Directorate became responsible for supplying agriculturists with labour, machinery and fertilisers, and for exercising the powers of control conferred by regulations under the Defence of the Realm Act to ensure the maximum production of food.

THE RT. HONOURABLE LEE OF FAREHAM

When his appointment was under consideration, it seemed to me that a lunch at Downing Street would be a suitable occasion to discuss the food problem with him and Prothero. As a result of our talk, Lee worked out his ideas in the form of a memorandum which was carefully considered by the Board of Agriculture, and in substance adopted by them. The resulting document was presented to me by Prothero on February 14th, and considered by the War Cabinet on the same afternoon. Its recommendations formed the basis of our food production policy for the remainder of the War.

After considerable discussion, the War Cabinet decided to ensure the coöperation of the farming community by adopting a bold policy of guaranteeing minimum prices for wheat, oats and potatoes. The scales adopted were:

If the Government should commandeer produce during the first three years, it would give an undertaking to pay not less than 70s. for wheat and 45s. for oats; while for potatoes it would pay not less than £8 per ton in 1917 and £7 per ton in 1918 and 1919.

We further decided that “as part of a policy of guaranteed prices, the Government should secure a wage of 25s. a week^[22] to agricultural labourers during the period of the guarantee, and should make provision for the establishment of Wage Boards; for compelling owners and tenants to make the best use of the land under their control; and for preventing rents being raised during the period of the State guarantee, except in special cases, e.g., where the landowner himself pays tithe, such special cases to receive the sanction of the Board of Agriculture.” The powers were unprecedented and drastic. But so were the conditions.

The policy outlined in these decisions: guaranteed prices; guaranteed wages; fixed rents; and compulsory powers to secure good cultivation, was the policy pursued thereafter by the Government in its treatment of the farming community. Fixed rents, guaranteed wages and compulsory efficient cultivation were always regarded as essential concomitants of guaranteed prices.

A very important further discussion took place three days later, on February 17th. It was reported that the farmers who had been consulted were willing to pay a minimum wage of 25s. a week, if they were guaranteed a minimum price for their produce. Lord Chaplin had called on me and expressed his support for the policy of the minimum price. He was pessimistic as to the prospect of increasing production in 1917, as the land required cleaning, and the farmer would not break up his grassland until he got his guarantee. The interesting comment on the scheme made by Captain Bathurst, who stated that he represented in the House of Commons a constituency containing some of the worst-paid agricultural labourers in the country, was that among farmers there was an increasing appreciation of the probability that if the labourer were better paid he would give better work. The more enlightened were in favour of a Wage Board, because it would place all the farmers on an equal footing.

At this meeting we also discussed pheasants, and decided that the Board of Agriculture should take any measures necessary to prevent them from making inroads on our grain crops. The destruction of the crops by game in the vicinity of preserves has been treated as a joke by men who can afford to indulge in such humour. During the War, when food was scarce, it was a bad practical joke. The War had almost stopped the usual autumnal massacres of the pheasantry, and the result was that the ravages of the surplus birds were devastating. The Board was authorised to issue an Order empowering tenants to kill pheasants where the landowners had failed to keep them down. The War, which upset so many ancient landmarks, was here making inroads upon those sacred feudal relics, the English Game Laws. It is significant of the temper of the times that this rough interference with privileges which had been guarded for centuries with jealous suspicion should have been passed and practised without audible murmur.

We reviewed and confirmed the decisions made three days earlier, but modified the proposals in regard to prices for commandeered produce in the direction of greater elasticity. Altogether it was a startling series of decisions to be taken by a Government in which there were several great landowners: restriction of rent by law—doubling the wages of the agricultural labourer—compulsory cultivation of land—even of parks!—power for tenants to kill pheasants which ravaged their crops! While the discussion was going on and the decisions were being taken, Lord Balfour sat in quizzical silence. At last he looked at the clock and said, “As nearly as I can reckon, we have had one revolution every half-hour!”

It remained to secure parliamentary sanction for our policy. I gave a preliminary description of it in the course of an extensive statement to the House of Commons on February 23rd, 1917, about the position of food and shipping. Urging the importance of home food production, I said:

I appealed for support for the hard work being done by the Minister of Agriculture, and indicated some of the features of the problem with which he was faced. The difficulties in the way of increasing cultivation, I pointed out, were not solely those caused by labour shortage, serious though this was. The greatest obstacle was the timidity of the farmer when it came to cutting up his pasture.

I recounted our reasons for believing that during the War and for two or three years afterwards agricultural prices were likely to remain high, and announced our intention of basing on that expectation a Government guarantee of minimum prices to the farmer. There were corollaries to this guarantee. Labour must also have a guaranteed minimum wage. Rents must not be raised. “There must not be any return to what happened during the Napoleonic Wars. Then there was an enormous increase in prices; and rents were practically doubled by the end of the war.” The landlords must not take advantage of a Government guarantee under which the State might lose money, to raise rents.

I then came to what was the most startling, and may yet turn out to be the most fruitful of these proposals, when its value to the community is appreciated.

I reviewed the price question and announced the prices which had already been agreed to by the Cabinet for wheat, oats and potatoes. And I appealed to the farming community, on the strength of this guarantee, to do their best to increase the 1917 harvest, and to make the best use of the time still available. Somewhat optimistically, as events in the last few years have shown, I declared that “the country is alive now as it has never been before to the essential value of agriculture to the community, and whatever befalls it will never again be neglected by a Government.” It is still difficult to wean the urban population from a rooted habit of regarding the countryside as a picnicking ground, whose accessible amenities are restricted by fences and often destroyed by cultivation. They have not yet acquired a real comprehension of the essential importance of the land of the country to its security, its permanent prosperity and contentment.

The legislation foreshadowed in my speech was in due course brought forward in the form of the Corn Production Bill, which was given its first reading on April 5th. The second reading of this measure, on the 24th and 25th of April, was carried by a majority of more than ten to one, but only after weathering fierce attacks by opponents as diverse as Sir Frederick Banbury, Mr. Runciman, Mr. R. D. Holt, and Mr. Ramsay MacDonald. The measure was in four parts. Part I contained the guarantee of minimum prices for corn, Part II minimum wages for land workers, Part III prohibited rent increases as a result of the guarantees, and Part IV made provision for control and enforcement of cultivation. All these four parts hung together, and as I have shown, they formed a necessary system for ensuring the production of more home-grown food. But each part, taken separately, was of a nature to cause violent offence to the susceptibilities of one class or another of political thought. Mr. Runciman and those of his way of thinking intensely disliked the guaranteed price, which savoured of Protection or Bounties, or at least of a departure from the pure theory of Free Trade, of which he had and has been an intermittent champion and a recurrent adversary. The economic colours he wears depend on his political environment for the time being. He had then thrown off his Parisian blazer and was once more wearing his old Free Trade mantle. Wages boards were denounced by Mr. Holt, who declared in favour of laissez faire and perfect freedom of contract between employer and employed. He has always been in favour of leaving the hindmost to the devil in order to speed up the rest. Restrictions on the increase of rents roused the ire of Sir Frederick Banbury (now Lord Banbury), the only perfect specimen of the prehistoric man left in the economic world. He was naturally outraged by nearly everything in the Bill. The insistence on cultivation as a legal obligation stirred a wide range of prejudices, ornamental, artistic, sporting, traditional—every form and species of the human egotism which rebels against doing or submitting to things that inconvenience it or interfere with its rights, privileges and amenities.

Criticism was not confined to independent and opposition members. One of the members of the Government, Mr. Walter Long, viewed the measure with most profound distaste, and tried hard to get it dropped or postponed, so strongly did he disapprove of any control over the owners and occupiers of land. I give a letter which I received from him in which he very forcibly states the case against the measure:

I passed this letter over to a Conservative Minister for his views. He wrote me as follows in reply:

When the Act was put into operation Mr. Long gave trouble. Although he was a member of the Government, he aspired to play the part of a passive resister.

As this correspondence shows, the opponents of the Bill were supported by a small group of men who could not appreciate the truth that when a nation resorts to war, the traditional privileges of its citizens must give way to the public safety, and that the ordinary laws which guarantee the ordinary attributes of possessive rights and amenity must remain silent. At the time this matter of increased food production was absolutely vital. Victory hung on it. Our people were bearing wonderfully well the strain of the prolonged War and the cheerless military position. But if something near to starvation had assailed them and their children, the firmness of the home front might have crumbled. There were no very rosy prospects abroad to help the nation to endure acute privation at home cheerfully. Our failure to apply a more intelligent strategy had left us in a position where it became a case of holding on until one side or the other should crack. The Russian Revolution, with the knowledge that our casualties were appalling and that results were not commensurate with sacrifices, combined to create a feeling of uneasiness, especially in the industrial areas. The stories told by the crippled soldiers who had returned home from abroad constituted formidable anti-war propaganda. If hunger had visited every home, the consequences might have been as serious here as they now were in Russia and afterwards became in Germany.

The powers we secured under the Corn Production Act and under the various Regulations issued under the Defence of the Realm Acts now gave us authority to insist on a big increase of cultivation of the soil; and this on terms which secured the willing coöperation of the bulk of the agricultural community, landowners, farmers and labourers. The Food Production Department and the organisation, central and local, which it built up in concert with the Ministries of Food and of Agriculture, furnished us with an instrument for carrying through our programme. But there were other serious fences to be cleared in our course. Chief among these were the shortage of labour and of fertilisers.

The problem of agricultural labour might well have been expected to defy solution. For years before the War the countryside had steadily been depopulated and its land workers reduced to a minimum. When the War broke out, there was a rush of village lads to the colours. The Army exercised a twofold suction upon farm workers. In the first place, these country-bred men included a much higher average of A category recruits than did the urban workers reared in the slummy and unhealthy back streets of our smoke-poisoned cities. So the military representatives cast covetous eyes on these sturdy sons of the soil and took every opportunity to slip them into khaki. And in the second place, the wages earned by land workers were so meagre that army pay, plus family allowance, had an attraction for them which it did not hold out to the well-paid munition worker or city employee. Moreover, the industry was not organised to counteract this allurement. Its workers were not combined in strong trade unions that would defend their members, and the farmers had no federation comparable in its strength to those of the great manufacturing industries. Whatever influence the Agricultural Labourers’ Union or the National Farmers’ Union may exercise over Governments to-day, in those days it was negligible.

Thus by 1917 there was far less than the normal pre-War labour force available on the land. And with this decimated army we were proposing to carry out arable cultivation on a scale which had not been attempted for decades.

The thing seemed impossible. Nevertheless, it was achieved. The romance of that triumphant struggle against war and weather, and, not least, against the stubborn prejudices of the countryside, cannot be fully told here. I can only pause to summarise a few of its leading features.

There was first the problem of manual labour. The Army had already absorbed a high proportion of our agricultural workers, and still thirsted impatiently for more. At the beginning of 1917, the War Office notified Mr. Neville Chamberlain, the new Director of National Service, that during the first three months of the year they would require a further 350,000 recruits of Category A, as well as 100,000 men of Categories B and C. On such terms we had to make up the price for our “victories” on the Somme, and prepare to pay for fresh victories of the same kind, decreed by the military conclave at Chantilly. All industries, however vitally important, had to pay their tribute, agriculture among them. The agricultural quota was fixed at 30,000 men.

The War Cabinet considered this problem, but could find no way of evading the sacrifice. So we decided that an effort should be made to find substitutes for these from among home defence units and surplus recruits, and reinforce them by withdrawing men from gardening and similar occupations, by securing women for land work, and increasing the mobility of labour. We also turned our thoughts to an increase of mechanical appliances for cultivation.

One interesting matter was raised at this discussion. Lord French had pointed out that he could only supply men for agricultural work from his Home Defence forces at the cost of impairing his capacity to resist an enemy raid on our coasts, and the War Cabinet formally decided to relieve him of responsibility by itself taking the decision to authorise the action. This “risk of a raid” was the scare raised at that time by the Admiralty as to the danger of a German landing on our shores. This, the oldest and most profitable bogey in the armoury of our fighting services, is always brought out, dusted, and repainted in flaming red whenever the Generals and Admirals want to retain or increase their estimates of men, money or machinery. For a century the old bogey was dressed in French uniform. For a generation it has been German. The Army now wanted more men, so the Admirals coöperated by saying that they could give no guarantee of being able to prevent the enemy from throwing a force of 160,000 men into England at any time, nor could the Grand Fleet begin to interrupt such an operation until twenty-four hours or more after the German flotillas appeared off our coasts. It was a sorry exhibition of nervous impotence on the part of the Lord High Admirals of the biggest Navy in the world,—but Admirals who were not ashamed to own that they could not get near enough to the coast of Flanders to bombard its submarine refuges without imperilling their warships, and who avowed their helplessness to check these submarines. It was obvious that if Germany, without securing the command of the sea, sent such an expeditionary force and it actually succeeded in getting ashore with its equipment, it would forthwith be cut off by land and sea and compelled to capitulate, and the troopships that conveyed the troops with the flotillas that protected them would be sunk or captured. So the War Cabinet declined to take this attack of nerves too seriously, and Lord French accepted our view that the likelihood of such a raid was extremely remote. The Government held that our need for increased food production was much more real and urgent than the need to hold large forces in readiness to deal with a threadbare fantasy. The provision of farm labour from army sources was therefore duly authorised.

Another source of labour was available in the prisoners of war. This was beset with the twofold difficulty that on the one hand the military authorities insisted on very stringent regulations in regard to their use, to avoid the risk of their escaping, and that on the other hand British farmers were at first very reluctant to avail themselves of this unfamiliar form of assistance. Only by slow degrees was war-prisoner labour introduced; but it proved so satisfactory that the countryside prejudice against it disappeared, and the War Office presently realised that the danger of prisoners escaping was small. As a matter of fact, they showed no eagerness to escape. By the end of 1917, only one officer and two men had actually made good their escape from the country, and accordingly the Cabinet then decided to relax the conditions under which German prisoners were employed by farmers and leave their surveillance to the local police. By the autumn of 1918, no fewer than thirty thousand German prisoners of war were employed on the British countryside, helping us to gather in our harvest.

But the recruit to our agricultural labour force who attracted the liveliest interest was undoubtedly the land girl. Her aid, too, was at first pressed on the farmers in the teeth of a good deal of sluggish and bantering prejudice and opposition. When in 1915 the Board of Agriculture tried to induce the farming community to employ female labour—the “lilac sunbonnet brigade”, as they were jocularly hailed in some quarters—it met at first with very little success. There was of course work that had long been done by women on family farms—milking, butter making, poultry keeping, haymaking and the like. But the idea that women could do the ordinary work of a farm called forth bucolic guffaws. This crude merriment roused the ire of the sex, and when a member of the Launceston Board of Guardians publicly declared that women could not do certain forms of farm work, they challenged his statement in the Press, and eight competitors turned up for a public demonstration at which they efficiently carried out all the major operations of a farm. This was in March, 1916, and it aroused such interest that a month later a county demonstration was held at Truro, where forty-three female competitors appeared and performed seven types of farm work, including harnessing and driving horses in waggons, ploughing, manure spreading and potato planting. The work chosen as a test was all of a kind only to be performed by skilled and sturdy labourers. One of the judges wrote afterwards:

Still, it took another year to reconcile farmers to this innovation. But at last the really efficient performance of women on the land, of which the Launceston demonstration gave a sample, slowly won them acceptance and recognition by the farmers.

With a view to our big food production drive, we determined to make a more considerable use of this source of land labour, and in January, 1917, the Board of Agriculture set up a Women’s Branch, which in March was transferred to the Food Production Department. It set to work to organise women’s labour for the farms. This was divided into two classes—casual or part-time work by women in the villages, who could not leave their homes but could help with farm work; and the recruitment of a Land Army of girls and women who would give full-time service and go wherever they were sent.

Of the first type of labour there had always been a fair volume employed. The 1911 Census showed 70,000 women engaged in agriculture. But by means of women’s County Committees a greatly increased number were drawn into service, and in 1918 the returns indicated that some 230,000 village women and girls were working on the land in England and Wales.

The recruiting of the Land Army was begun early in 1917 by the National Service Ministry, and then worked jointly by the Ministry of Labour and the Food Production Department. The terms offered at the outset by the Government to recruits included a month’s free training at one of the six hundred training centres which we arranged on farms where accommodation could be provided; an outfit; a minimum wage of 18s. a week (as compared with the pre-War average wage in England of 14s. a week to men workers); and maintenance at the depots while unemployed. It was of course very important that the new Land Army should create a good impression in the early days, to counteract the general hostility and distrust of the farming community; and the first recruits were most carefully selected. Out of forty-seven thousand applicants who turned up in the first rush, only seven thousand were accepted.

Of the various labour resources applied to agriculture during the War—soldier ploughmen and labour battalions drawn from the home defence forces, prisoners of war, unskilled urban substitutes for farm workers called to the colours—the land girl was certainly the most picturesque figure, and perhaps in some ways the most valuable. Breeched, booted and cropped, she broke with startling effect upon the sleepy traditionalism of the English countryside. She was drawn from a wide range of classes of society, and while as in every large collection of human beings there were included good, bad and indifferent specimens, her general average was high. She brought with her an eager enthusiasm and energy, an alert and unprejudiced mind, that stimulated by example the activity of the men workers.

But when all such sources had been tapped, we could not command anything like enough manual labour to carry through a big increase in cultivation by traditional farming methods, or even maintain cultivation at its previous level. If we were to achieve our big drive, the Government saw clearly that we should have to resort to labour-saving machinery on a large scale, supplementing our limited man power with the power of petrol and steam.

Here we were up against a twofold difficulty. On the one hand, we had not got the tractors. On the other, the farmers were not at all eager to have them. At that time the agricultural tractor was hardly known in the English countryside, and was regarded with grave suspicion by the farming community as a new-fangled contraption with no manurial utility. Steam ploughing tackle they were in some districts more familiar with; but of the five hundred sets which existed in the country, nearly half were idle, as their engine drivers had left for the Army or for munition factories, and many of the sets were out of repair.

Great numbers of farm tractors were needed for ploughing and other tillage operations. These we had either to make in this country or import from America. Lack of shipping made it appear desirable to manufacture them here; but as the firms capable of the work were already fully occupied on munitions and motor transport for the Army, the prospect of getting them to manufacture tractors was gloomy.

At this stage Mr. Henry Ford came to our aid. He was anxious to establish a motor factory in Ireland, and offered, if granted permission and facilities for this, to use the factory during the War for the purpose of making agricultural tractors. The project was sanctioned by the War Cabinet, but was held up through difficulty in securing the necessary structural materials for building the factory. Mr. Ford then came to our help in another way. In April, 1917, he offered to present his “Fordson” tractor to the British Government as a model, together with all drawings, patterns, jigs, etc., needed for its production, free of cost, on condition that the tractors manufactured therefrom should be purchased by the Government, not by private individuals. Arrangements were put in hand to take advantage of this offer, and for six thousand of the tractors to be manufactured here for us by British firms; but early in June, 1917, we found it necessary to concentrate our motor-manufacturing resources on the output of aeroplanes, and all these arrangements went by the board. Ultimately half of the six thousand Ford tractors were assembled at a new factory run up at Trafford Park for the purpose, the parts being supplied by Mr. Ford from his American factory. The remainder were imported complete across the Atlantic.

In addition to these 6,000 Ford tractors, the Food Production Department were responsible for securing some 3,262 tractors of other makes. They also hunted out all the sets of steam ploughing tackle in the country, traced their missing engine drivers, and secured the return of some 300 of these from the Army. Further sets to the number of 65 were procured from a British firm.

As an illustration of the achievements of the mechanical power thus made available for our food-production campaign, I may say that in the preparations for the 1918 harvest, motor tractors carried out tillage operations equivalent to the ploughing of about 600,000 acres, and the steam tackle ploughed and cultivated about 1,200,000 acres.

Motor and steam power represented only one aspect of the very great resort which we made to mechanical aids in our campaign. The Ministry of Munitions was called on to furnish every kind of improved agricultural implement which would save labour and assist mass production from the soil. Among these may be mentioned such items as one thousand potato diggers, five thousand self-binders, more than three thousand cultivators, and many thousands of harrows, disc harrows, rollers, seed drills, two-furrow ploughs and similar implements. The effect of that wartime campaign was to raise permanently the standard of British farming in respect of mechanical equipment—and seeing the extreme difficulties with which farming has been faced since the War, it was fortunate for it that it was launched in these lean years with at least a more efficient and up-to-date equipment; for despite this advantage, agriculture has since then been hard put to it to avoid utter insolvency.

The fertiliser shortage was yet another obstacle to be overcome. This was a difficulty which had confronted us since the outbreak of the War, but it was of course made much more serious when we proposed to effect a vast increase in the cropping area.

The principal artificial manures purchased by farmers here in pre-War days were potash, nitrates and phosphates, the latter two being far the more important. Nine tenths of the total expenditure before the War on artificials went on nitrates and phosphates. Potash was, however, considered essential for certain crops, notably potatoes. Unfortunately we depended entirely on Germany for our supplies. Despite various experiments, we failed to obtain any considerable output during the War from home sources and were latterly somewhat handicapped by the lack of this chemical.

As for nitrates, their most popular source before the War was imported nitrate of soda. But munition manufacture combined with the growing shortage of shipping to cut down supplies. Such nitrate as could be imported was wanted for explosives. Accordingly, the Acland Committee on Fertilisers, set up by the Ministry of Agriculture in October, 1915, under the chairmanship of Mr. (now Sir Francis) Acland, had to face the difficult task of persuading farmers to use the unfamiliar sulphate of ammonia, which had for years been produced in large quantities at our gas works as a by-product, and exported abroad to appreciative foreigners, who knew its great value as a fertiliser. The Acland Committee carried out useful though tedious spadework in the educational field, and by the time their functions were transferred to the Ministry of Food at the end of 1916, farmers were slowly beginning to use sulphate of ammonia. The Ministry stimulated a larger use of this ingredient. The growth of the habit is shown by the figures for consumption of this fertiliser in the last three years of the War:

The provision of phosphatic manures was handicapped by the fact that there was not a convenient home supply of soluble phosphates. Our superphosphate of lime was made by treating imported phosphatic rock with acid, and imports meant shipping, of which we had all too little available. We prohibited the export of basic slag, and the Fertiliser Branch set up at the Ministry of Munitions worked with the Food Production Department to secure the maximum amount possible of superphosphate. These efforts were highly successful, for by the 1918 tillage about 770,000 tons of this manure were provided—a larger quantity than had been used annually before the War. In face of the difficulties to be surmounted, this was a remarkable achievement.

It is clear evidence of the restless zeal and energy with which the Food Production Department and the bodies associated with its efforts in the Ministry of Munitions and among some agricultural organisations pursued their task of getting supplies of fertilisers for farmers, that while in 1918 far more land was put under the plough than had been the case in pre-War years, the yield per acre of this increased area was considerably higher than the pre-War average.

In this manner we obtained the powers, set up the administrative machinery, collected the labour, and produced the equipment, the tools and the fertilisers for our great food-growing effort. It remains to summarise the progress of the campaign and its results.

The spring of 1917 remained exceptionally cold and wet till after mid-April, but then a spell of very favourable weather set in, and with the aid of soldiers and with our organisation of machinery the land was ploughed and sown. The severe frosts had given a good tilth for agricultural operations which aided the work. When the preliminary crop returns came in, we were gratified to learn that our hard push was proving successful in getting more land into arable cultivation. Some 975,000 more acres were put under the plough in 1917 than in 1916. Seeing that at the beginning of 1917 it was estimated that the sowing as yet carried out for the 1917 harvest was at least 15 per cent. below that carried out by the corresponding date for the 1916 harvest, the increase eventually compassed was a notable achievement.

The corn crop was of rather poor yield in England and Wales, but fair in Scotland and Ireland. Potatoes cropped better in all countries than they had done the previous year. As compared with 1916, the quantities of produce in 1917 were greater by:

These figures show that despite inevitable war deficiencies in labour, machinery and fertilisers, a truly remarkable beginning had been made with the task of increasing our home-grown food supplies. In addition, the growing army of allotment holders had also been highly successful with their potato and vegetable plantings.

The achievement was a very substantial relief to our overstrained shipping resources. I can hardly describe the relief the figures brought to anxious minds who knew that the battle had resolved itself into a struggle of endurance, and that at the end of 1916 and in the early spring of 1917 it had looked like turning against this country. When I received the statistics of increased production of food, and of shipbuilding, and the returns of diminishing sinkings of our ships which showed that we had checked the submarine depredations, I had a sense that the Allied cause was at last definitely on top, and could not be displaced from that position except by some prodigious act of folly perpetrated by our military leaders. I knew, too, that the food production achieved in so short a time gave promise of infinitely greater results next year.

In this I was not disappointed. The full effect of the work done by the Food Production Department could not be realised until the 1918 harvest. Long preliminary planning was clearly necessary to ensure any extensive inroad upon the permanent pasture of this country, and to secure good cultivation of land that was being neglected.

That programme was set out as early as May 7th, 1917, in a memorandum giving the findings of a Conference of the Agricultural Departments of England and Wales, Scotland and Ireland. Sir Arthur Lee started forthwith to organise the measures for carrying it out. He sent a circular letter to the Agricultural Committee in every county, showing the total area of corn crops suggested for 1918; the additional acreage this represented compared with 1916; the estimated acreage of permanent grass to be broken up; and the percentage of the total arable area of 1918 that would be devoted to corn crops if the programme were carried out in its entirety. These figures were given for each county separately, as well as for the country as a whole. The letter pointed out that it was important for the County Executive Committees to secure as much as possible of their county quotas by agreement, and only to resort to compulsion if all other means failed.

On the whole, these allocations of quota were well received, and the Department then proceeded to recommend the County Executives to set up at least three sub-committees to deal with Labour, Machinery, and Supplies, with the necessary officers and clerks. In most cases these appointments were made before the beginning of the 1917 harvest. A further step in the organisation of the campaign was the division of each county into districts, with district sub-committees in each, forming the final link between the Food Department and the individual farmer.

These sub-committees had the task of investigating and reporting to the County Executives on such matters as:

Land in the district that was not being put to its best use for the national food supply.

Grassland that should be ploughed up.

Labour shortage, and the kinds of labour needed.

Difficulties in obtaining supplies of seeds, manures, and other requisites.

They were also charged with the supervision of the work of tractors, steam tackle, horse teams, and gangs of prisoners. They had to keep the farmers informed of the credit facilities we had arranged for them. They were responsible for organising measures against rabbits, rats, rooks, wood pigeons and other dangers to the crops; for reporting bad drainage; and for assisting allotment holders and seeing that they cultivated their plots well. They rendered very valuable service in carrying out a survey of the land throughout the Kingdom, to ascertain its state of cultivation and what room there was for improvement. This survey was carefully planned in advance by a member of the Land Valuation Staff created under the 1909-1910 Budget. Maps were prepared on which every field was shown, and particulars about it could be entered up by the district sub-committees. This kind of work, extended over the country, gave a most valuable picture of our potential resources, and enabled the preparations for the 1918 harvest to be planned on a sound basis.

By this means we learned in October, 1917, through a special return from the County Executive Committees, that the programme for breaking-up of grassland was making very uneven progress in different parts. It was hampered by the shortage of skilled ploughmen. Of 21,500 ploughmen which the Army had undertaken to supply, only 13,000 had been forthcoming, and most of these turned out not to be really skilled. Only 2,500 knew how to plough! The fact was that Passchendaele was playing havoc with our side of the war of attrition. With its effect on our available man power in France I deal elsewhere. Here at home it was crippling our food programme. The military chiefs scoffed at the idea that the final issue was being fought in Britain’s ploughed fields and on the high seas that surround our islands. Every young ploughman snatched was to them a recruit. In reality he was a casualty before he fell on the battlefield, for he was missing from the front where his services were most needed in the struggle.

It was now too late to proceed with the breaking-up of the heavier clay lands where this had been left undone. So we had to modify our programme. That meant that if we were to get as much land under the plough as we proposed, we should have to encroach on other grass which we had formerly intended to leave alone.

Photo. by Elliot & Fry

THE RT. HONOURABLE LORD ERNLE

We therefore appealed to all farmers who had any available labour to break up their good grassland for the national service. The spirit in which this appeal was made is well illustrated by a speech delivered at Darlington on October 5th, 1917, by Mr. Prothero to a meeting of agriculturists. It is an admirable specimen in its clarity and persuasive point of the appeal directed to cultivators, owners and public. Basing his remarks upon the supreme purpose of winning the War, he pointed out the ways in which our agriculture could assist in the task.

Mr. Prothero went on to speak of the help the Government was seeking to provide for farmers; of guaranteed prices; of seeds, fertilisers, implements, horses, and labour. “From the London Metropolitan Police Force alone we have got 120 skilled ploughmen.” He mentioned the training establishments set up to train soldiers and women workers; the arrangements to secure fertilisers; the powers taken to deal with drainage, whereby many thousands of acres were being brought into profitable cultivation. Some forty-five hundred German prisoners were being employed in drainage works.

In regard to the milk problem, he urged milk farmers to maintain their maximum production. “I know well enough that the labour difficulties of this branch of the industry are greater than in any other branch of it, but none the less stick to it in the dogged spirit of the men who are fighting for us by sea and land.” He dealt with the question of the fixed price of milk, and pointed out that if those farmers who found these unprofitable would copy some of the economies in feeding, and in the selection of good cows, adopted by those who were making milk production pay well, they would overcome their difficulties.

Passing to the question of meat, Mr. Prothero urged the importance of pressing on with winter feeding to maintain the supply of fat stock, and said that as the supply of cake was limited, the farmers should use what could be provided for them chiefly in feeding up the cattle of two years and upwards and reduce consumption when these beasts were exhausted, if meat imports could not supply the deficiency. He also discussed the question of manures, and the position in regard to sheep and pigs.

There was a fine response to these appeals on the part of the farmers. We for our part used all our efforts and persistence to get them the labour they needed. We even managed at the end of 1917, when Passchendaele was over, to get the Army in France to send back fifteen hundred ploughmen from the ranks for a three months’ furlough. With these and German prisoners of war and more land girls and hands from the towns, and an increasing output of tractors we did what we could to eke out the scanty supply of agricultural labour. The spring weather of 1918 was very fine and favourable, and farmers, eager to break up grassland and plant crops, were clamouring for workers. Then came the German break-through in March, and as a consequence of it, we had to decide in April to claim thirty thousand more men from agriculture for the Army!

Happily, by this time the work of preparation for the 1918 harvest was well ahead. The achievements of the autumn campaign and appeal had been remarkable, as is shown by an extract from a letter written to me by Sir Arthur Lee, the Director-General of the Food Production Department, on March 15th, 1918:

The work thus well begun in the autumn was carried on in the spring with utmost energy, despite all difficulties. Every fit man, and nearly every unfit man in the countryside was out and at work whenever the weather made farming operations possible. On May 21st, 1918, Sir Arthur Lee wrote me a letter accompanying his Interim Report on the results of the Food Production Campaign, 1917-1918, in which he remarked: “I hope you will find them satisfactory. At any rate, they wipe out the losses of forty years in fifteen months.”

The Interim Report gave results of a Census of April 27th, 1918, covering England and Wales, which showed the total acreage under corn and potatoes to be larger by 2,142,000 acres than the 1916 level. There was an increase in the acreage under each cereal crop and in that under potatoes. The wheat area was the highest recorded since 1882; that for oats the highest on record by twenty per cent.; that for potatoes, also the highest on record, by twenty-seven per cent.

The increase in the tillage area was, of course, still greater, because crop rotation compelled a good deal of arable land to be under other crops. The report stated that:

The report added that these figures took no account of the increased production from allotment gardens, of which there were upwards of 800,000 more now than before the War, which might be reckoned to be producing foodstuffs to a total of 800,000 tons above the normal.

This agricultural achievement, it was pointed out, was accomplished in spite of the fact that after reckoning all the military and prisoner labour furnished by the Government, there had been 200,000 fewer male labourers on the land than in the year before the War.

The Agricultural Returns for the year 1918 ultimately showed that the total area in the United Kingdom diverted from grass to arable cultivation was 3,381,000 acres. And the actual realised yields of cereals and potatoes showed a most remarkable and gratifying advance upon those secured in the 1917 harvest. The crop yields in the two successive seasons were as follows:

Figures in Tons

The increase achieved was very striking and immensely valuable. The wheat crop in England and Wales exceeded the average of the last ten years before the War by 59.3 per cent., and the oat crop was similarly greater by 38.5 per cent., and potatoes by 59.2 per cent. For the United Kingdom as a whole, the wheat crop of 1918 was 64.9 per cent. greater than the pre-War average. The 1918 harvest was in fact by far the greatest that has been secured in this country for over the past sixty years.

It would have been far greater still if the weather in the latter part of 1918 had lived up to its early promise. But the early summer was cold and dry. July was very wet, with some damage to crops through the heavy storms. August brought favourable weather in the South of England, where the bulk of the harvest was secured in good season and condition, but September was again very wet, and in the Midlands and North, in Scotland and Ireland, the harvest season turned out to be one of the very worst on record. The corn could not be carried, and a great deal of it sprouted in the fields. Heroic efforts were made to save it. In the crisis, the Home Defence Force was called on for every available man, and the landworkers, reinforced by the help of some seventy thousand soldiers and thirty thousand prisoners of war, were out whenever weather permitted, aided by all the mechanical resources—tractors, reapers and binders, and so on—that the efforts of the Food Production Department could provide. More than four fifths of the largest harvest of modern times was thus rescued in the teeth of one of the worst seasons imaginable. If the achievements of the winter and spring sowing and planting had been magnificent, still more magnificent was the triumph of harvesting.

Had Germany carried out our programme of cultivation and rationing, the acute food shortage which provoked revolution and disintegrated the army would not have occurred.

It was the climax of our efforts for home food production. When in the spring of 1918 the programme for the 1919 harvest came to be planned, it was clear that much of the arable which had been so strenuously worked in the last years must now be given a rest unless it was heartened with fertilisers. Of these there was no adequate supply available. Production could therefore only be maintained at the 1918 level if half a million fresh acres could be brought under the plough, to replace land which would have to be let down to rotation grasses or bare fallow. The Food Production Department put forward a programme for ploughing up a further 550,000 acres of “relief land” in order to maintain the corn acreage. But the most convenient grassland for such a purpose had already been taken, and the carrying out of this further programme would have made inroads upon the remaining pastures which the farmers would have strongly resented. Any hope of securing their willing concurrence was destroyed by the fact that the German attack in March, 1918, compelled us to call on agriculture to provide a further thirty thousand of its fit young men for the Army. The demand was unavoidable. The age limit had been raised and the age at which recruits were sent to the fighting line had to be lowered. In spite of the urgent demands for coal and munitions, miners and munition workers were being similarly combed. But the withdrawal of more men from the land broke the farmers’ spirit. They were already finding it intolerably difficult to keep their cultivation going and it proved impossible to take away their best men and at the same time call on them to plough up their best pastures.

So when the Corn Production (Amendment) Bill, 1918, was introduced, to give the Food Production further powers of compulsion to secure the breaking-up of grassland, Parliament met it with lively opposition.

Taken as a whole, the agricultural experiment had produced results which definitely helped the nation through a crisis. This fact, however, did not mollify critics who were suffering from a sense of personal grievance or affront to their personal dignity.

The orders issued for breaking up the land were not always acceptable. Although in the main the selection was fair and prudent, there must have been occasions when the choice was doubtful and some perhaps where it was definitely unwise. The instruments used for carrying out this improved programme were by no means the best, but they were the best available under war conditions. That was inevitable in an organisation which had to be set up in a hurry to meet a pressing emergency. Experts had to be picked from such material as was left after a good deal of the best had either gone to the front or been commandeered for other war work. Mistakes were therefore inevitable and the disgruntled gave them the widest publicity.

Many members of Parliament had experienced in their private capacity as landowners the weight of the Department’s hand, and in the House of Lords the majority of members were so hostile that the Bill had to be amended to permit a right of appeal against the Department in cases where it ordered further grassland to be broken up, or sought to take over land which it held to be mismanaged or undercultivated. This clipped the wings of the Food Production Department, and made it impossible to hope for the carrying out in full of its proposals for the 1919 harvest.

The strike of the “Junkers” was a serious embarrassment to a Coalition Government, a large and influential section of whose political supporters were drawn from that class. But it was not unexpected. The orders issued for the ploughing of land hitherto kept green and uncultured for ornamental purposes were received with increasing resentment by some men all-powerful in their domains, who were not accustomed to be ordered about by County Committees as to the use they should make of their park lands and preserves. The grumbling became a growl and at last a snarl with bared teeth. One great landowner who possessed considerable political influence came to me, angrily flourishing a notice which had been served upon him threatening proceedings against him if he did not comply with an order to break up some of his decorative land. He had ignored the order as an impertinence. Hence the threat. When I saw him he was scarlet with fury. He was a man whose patriotism was beyond question. But this proceeding wounded his pride. He had always been one of the most excitable champions of law and order. Nevertheless, he told me that he meant to defy this particular order. I reminded him that it was the law of the land he was setting at defiance. That did not appease him. He thought it an unjust law which interfered with the amenities of a man’s home. I pointed out to him that he belonged to an order of society from which magistrates were drawn who administered laws which were rightly or wrongly often regarded by their humbler neighbours as oppressive, but that such a plea was never accepted from offenders summoned before land-owning justices for a breach of those laws. There could not be one interpretation of obedience to law for the rich and another for the poor. He went away more in anger than in sorrow, for he had a great estate, a long pedigree, a vast sense of personal importance, and the doctrine I had expounded was neither palatable nor intelligible to such a man.

It is difficult to understand the limitations put upon patriotic surrender by men several of whom had endured in that war sacrifices much more irreparable and poignant than those they were called upon to make in respect of their lands. But such is human nature. The noble and the petty dwell in the same habitation. They never meet—are not on speaking terms. But they take their turn in running the same soul. When in charge each of them dominates it to the complete exclusion of the other. The conduct of a man depends on which motive is on the bridge at a given time.

Sir Arthur Lee (who had now become Lord Lee of Fareham) felt so keenly the blow given to his plans by the rebellious Peers that he resigned his post of Director-General of the Department, rather than share responsibility for abandoning the new programme he had drawn up for 1919. I accepted this resignation with sincere regret, not only because I entirely approved of the Lee programme, but because I appreciated the rare ability and the drive with which Sir Arthur Lee had served his country over both Munitions and Food production. The success he had already achieved was the best answer to the apprehensions he now felt. He had helped to carry us through the danger zone.

A small amount of grassland was broken up for the harvest of 1919, despite the absence of compulsory powers; but the corn area fell by 488,000 acres, thus verifying the forecast of the Food Production Department, that half a million acres would fall out of corn production unless an equivalent area of new ground were brought under the plough. But the Department had done its work with surprising efficiency, and had enabled us to carry on through the most critical moments of the War until we reached victory. Without the extra millions of tons of home-grown food which it secured, the nation would have gone hungry in 1918. It would certainly have been compelled to tighten its belt several holes. The only alternative would have been a peace of failure, preceded or followed by revolution.

Before concluding this account of our Food Production Campaign, I must make special reference to one very important branch of it—important not merely for its material, but perhaps even more for its moral achievements. This was the allotment campaign.

If labour in the countryside was scarce, there was great potential capacity in the spare time of the town workers—those in black coats and those in corduroy trousers alike. They could not get out to help on the farms, but round every town there spreads a devastated area of vacant building plots and other waste land which these men and their families could reach in their leisure hours and during their weekly half-days. Quite early we recognised the possibilities of war-time allotments, and even in the first year of the War there was a rapid growth of the movement.

So promising was this development that towards the end of 1916 Lord Crawford decided to press forward a further extension by the use of his powers under the Defence of the Realm Acts. On December 5th, 1916, a Regulation was issued empowering the Board of Agriculture to requisition any land for cultivation, and to delegate its powers in this respect to local authorities. On December 8th, the day after I took office as Prime Minister, I authorised the Board to issue the Cultivation of Lands Order, 1916, which empowered urban local authorities to take possession of unoccupied land for the purpose of forming allotments, without previously getting the consent of the owner; to set up allotments on common land with the consent of the Board; and to set them up on any occupied land subject to the consent of owner and occupier.

This Order opened the way for further great allotment advance. Under it, commons, heaths and vacant building plots were commandeered. Hampstead Heath was ploughed up and planted with potatoes. Unsightly wastes were transfigured with fertility, and city dwellers by hundreds of thousands re-discovered the thrill and wonder of making things grow. A new fraternity made itself felt among these amateur cultivators from classes once widely sundered, who found themselves neighbours in the allotment field. There was a kind of brotherhood of the big potato. On his suburban railway platform the bank manager would produce with pride a monstrous tuber, “grown on my allotment!” and challenge his fellow passengers to show its rival.

No rent was payable by the authorities to owners of unoccupied or common land, and allotment holders were only required to pay such rent as would recoup the cost of providing and preparing the plots. The authorities were empowered to carry out such preparation, and also to supply seeds, manures and implements at cost price, thus simplifying for would-be pilgrims the unfamiliar road back to the land.

Returns collected from 1,161 towns showed that during 1917 there were provided by urban authorities some 19,812 acres of ground, let in 273,822 plots, for which there were 301,359 applicants. The movement was still further extended in 1918, and it was estimated by the Horticultural Division that in that year there existed in the whole country about 1,400,000 allotments, of which 830,000 had come into existence since the outbreak of the War. Some 400,000 of these had been provided since 1916 by local authorities, equipped with the powers given them by the Lands Cultivation Order. The overwhelming majority of these allotments were being worked by urban dwellers; so that this movement, while it contributed perhaps little to the marketed stocks of foodstuffs, had at least the result of bringing scores of thousands of acres of waste land into production, of harnessing the latent horticultural abilities of townsmen to the task of food-growing, and of ensuring a supply of potatoes and fresh vegetables for nearly one and a half million households.

2. Rationing

The problem of maintaining a sufficient food supply was by no means confined to the task of increasing the home output. At its best—and this best was only reached in the last year of the War—our home production covered only a part of our consumption and the remainder had to be provided by foreign purchase and importation. Our shipping was shrinking and the demands of our Allies were increasing, and it became essential for us to exercise a strict supervision over our stocks and take drastic steps to ration their distribution, so as to ensure that if few enjoyed abundance, none should go hungry.

The policy of food control and rationing was highly uncongenial to our national temper and had to be developed carefully and cautiously. Probably Mr. Runciman voiced the natural instinctive attitude of most people to the idea when, speaking in a debate on food prices in the House of Commons on October 17th, 1916, he declared:

This was all very well, but if there was only a limited supply, something had to be done to make it go round. Mr. Runciman himself was soon forced by the intensified submarine attacks to take a different view. On November 15th and 16th, 1916, there was another debate in the House on food prices and supplies. Two days previously the War Committee had agreed in principle with the proposal which I had repeatedly urged on them, that a Food Controller should be appointed with drastic powers to deal with the production, supply and price of foodstuffs.^[25] Mr. Runciman accordingly outlined in the course of the Debate the intention of the Government to appoint a Food Controller, and the additional powers it proposed to acquire to enforce economies and to control manufacture, distribution and sale of food. “If it becomes necessary for us to embark on food tickets,” he said, “obviously we must have the power given to us to do it without long and protracted discussion. Directly the need becomes apparent, power ought to be given to us to act.” He instanced the working of the Ministry of Munitions as an example of what could be done in the way of efficient Government control of industry by means of securing the coöperation of able business men, and as some reassurance to those who might share his fear and dislike of systems of control.

On November 17th, 1916, a series of regulations for the control of food supplies was published. The Board of Trade was authorised to make orders for imposing the most drastic restrictions in respect to food consumption.

Penalties were laid down for resistance to orders of the Board of Trade made under these regulations.

Next day the Board of Trade made two orders, fixing maximum prices for milk and laying down the percentages of flour that must be milled from different qualities of wheat. The Board also made an order prohibiting the use of wheat for brewing, since on account of a shortage of barley, brewers were buying wheat in its place. But any systematic exercise of the further powers acquired by the Government through these regulations was possible only when the Food Controller had been appointed. As I have already shown, that appointment was made when the new Government was formed in December, 1916.

As soon as Lord Devonport, the new Food Controller, took office, he appointed a committee under the chairmanship of Mr. (now Sir Alfred) Butt to study the question of rationing. We owe a good deal to his intelligent handling of this troublesome duty. In three weeks’ time this Committee prepared a detailed plan for rationing the food of the nation. It was practically that scheme that was put into operation later on by Lord Rhondda. It was drawn up on the assumption that sooner or later rationing might have to be made compulsory.

For the time being, the Cabinet considered it necessary to hold the scheme in reserve. We recognised the strength of the popular prejudice against compulsory rationing, and decided to approach it—as had previously been done with compulsory service—along the line of first exhausting the possibilities of voluntary control. As a matter of fact, the representatives of Labour in the Government warned us emphatically that the workers would not at that time submit to a compulsory rationing system, and we properly gave due weight to this expert advice.

But detailed rationing of the ultimate consumer was by no means the only way in which control could be exercised. On December 14th, 1916, Lord Devonport stated in the House of Lords that he would take steps, not only to maintain our food supplies, but to ensure that they should be fairly distributed, and with this end in view, would begin by finding out from statistical returns what stocks there were available, with a view to their fair distribution. This he proceeded to do without delay. Meantime, in mid-December, an order was issued through the Board of Trade, which limited meals in clubs, hotels, and other public eating places, to three courses between 6 p.m. and 9:30 p.m. and to two courses at other times, and fixed the maximum prices for meals served to soldiers in all licensed premises in London.

On January 11th, 1917, the Food Controller issued six Orders—the first batch of a long series of such Orders issued from time to time in the course of the next two years. To illustrate the nature of the restrictions that were imposed, the purport of some of these Orders may be summarised as follows:

At the beginning of February, Lord Devonport issued an appeal for the adoption of voluntary rationing. He stated that compulsory rationing would be avoided as far and as long as possible, and for the time being he urged the public to limit their purchases of staple foods as follows: Bread, 4 pounds (or, for bread-making, its equivalent of 3 pounds of flour) per head per week; meat, 2½ pounds; sugar, ¾ pound. He pointed out that only by such frugality could sufficient be available for all, and ample supplies for our soldiers and sailors.

The Germans unwittingly came to our aid in this appeal by publishing in America a statement that Great Britain had only thirty days’ supply of foodstuffs. We promptly sent a contradiction to our Ambassador in the States, but decided not to publish denials at home, since it was important that our people should economise, and the Germans were helping on the good work.

On February 3rd, 1917, I addressed a public meeting at Carnarvon upon the nation’s task in the War. In the course of my speech I took advantage of the occasion to add my appeal to that of Lord Devonport for economy in food. I said:

The country took up with a good deal of fine enthusiasm the appeal to them for a voluntary restriction of their use of food. Within a few days Lord Devonport had the gratification of receiving a call from Sir Derek Keppel, who came to tell him on the King’s behalf that it was being strictly observed in the Royal Household without the slightest inconvenience.

But the growing submarine menace made inroads upon our importing capacity which rapidly threatened to outrun the limit of the economies which could be achieved on a voluntary basis, and in March and April, 1917, a number of compulsory restrictions were imposed on the distribution and sale of foodstuffs. Bread could not be sold till it was twelve hours old. Compulsory potato rations were fixed for hotels, clubs and restaurants, and they were required to adopt a meatless day. Manufacture for sale of light pastries, muffins, crumpets and tea cakes was prohibited. The principal flour mills were taken over by the Food Controller and measures of control imposed in respect to rice, peas, beans and pulse. An Order was issued prohibiting food hoarding, and drastic action threatened against any individuals who continued to consume more than their proper ration.

Germany was at this time furnishing an illustration of the immense importance of the Cabinet’s policy of firmly controlling the supply of food. In the autumn of 1916 the German Government had overestimated the yield of its harvest, and did not find out its mistake till February, 1917, when it also discovered that the civilian population had, in fact, been consuming more food than was allotted to them. In a panic the Government drastically cut down the supplies for the towns, with the result that in a few weeks the morale of their urban populations was badly shaken, and their war fervour was being replaced by cries for peace at any price. Only by drawing on the reserves that had been set aside for feeding the Army did the German Government avert a collapse in the early summer of 1917. How great were the risks they took in cutting down the Army supplies they realised in 1918. For our part, while we maintained our civilian food supply at a sufficient if frugal limit, we resolved even at the worst moment of our food crisis not to reduce the ration of our fighting men. It was never cut down by a single ounce, nor was its quality allowed to deteriorate, to the end of the War, by a single protein, calory or vitamin. But that was a policy we could never have carried through had it not been for our campaign of increased production and stern rationing at home.

By May, 1917, a far-reaching system of control over supplies had been instituted. The rates of distribution and consumption of food had been fixed, though in the main the observance of the limits was left on a voluntary basis. At the end of the month, Lord Devonport found himself unable to continue as Food Controller, owing to a serious breakdown in health. Under imperative orders from his doctor, he tendered his resignation. I very regretfully accepted it. He was replaced at the Food Ministry by Lord Rhondda.

Among the war-time measures with which Lord Devonport was associated during his term as Food Controller was the further restriction of liquor. The matter was raised by him in a memorandum to the War Cabinet on January 12th, 1917, in which he urged that a fifty per cent. cut in brewing would preserve home-grown barley for food purposes and set free tonnage used for imported brewing materials. With his memorandum was considered one from the Central Control (Liquor Traffic) Board, which reported the remarkable success which had attended the measures so far taken to restrict and control the sale of alcohol, and urged still further measures, including State Purchase.

The War Cabinet considered these suggestions, but decided that the question of State Purchase should be deferred until other more urgent measures had been settled. The Cabinet on January 23rd decided that for the time being brewing should be restricted to sixty per cent. of the 1915 output, and that the release of wines and spirits from bond should be cut down proportionately. After enough grain had been malted to supply the brewers for their restricted output, the Food Controller was empowered to stop further malting. A public announcement of this decision was made on January 24th by the Food Controller.

As regards the further developments of this question of liquor restriction, it may be added that on February 16th we decided to make a further reduction of thirty per cent. in the figure of beer permitted under the Output of Beer Restriction Act. The result of this would be that whereas before the War there were about thirty-five million standard barrels brewed annually, now there would be about ten million barrels. On February 21st the Home Secretary was asked to set up a committee on which the brewers should be represented, to enquire into the position created by these restrictions, and report to the Cabinet.

The Committee’s report, which came before the Cabinet on March 22nd, was in favour of State Purchase, although there were difficulties about estimating the price, owing to the complication introduced by the restrictions; and licensed victuallers were not in favour of purchase, except in Ireland. After extended private discussions with leaders of the Trade, we decided on May 31st in favour of assuming Government control over the liquor trade, with a view to probable State Purchase after the War. Committees were set up to examine the situation in England and Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, and report on the terms on which control should be acquired.

But alcohol is a refractory citizen, and as he has a multitude of friends everywhere, he soon made trouble. With the arrival of summer weather, widespread discontent began to show itself in munition centres and among landworkers at the scarcity of beer and its high price. It was decided to meet this by brewing light beer, and in place of imposing immediate Government control we arranged on June 21st, 1917, to permit the brewing of 33⅓ per cent. more beer for the next three months, on condition that its alcoholic strength was reduced and its price correspondingly modified.

This increase in the amount to be brewed was later made permanent, but subject to restrictions on its specific gravity and to conditions as to a proportion being placed at the Food Controller’s disposal for distribution to munition areas, and to agricultural districts in harvest time. Ultimately, in March, 1918, it was decided that all the beer brewed in Great Britain should be of a specific gravity not exceeding 1030 degrees.

The effect of our successive modifications of the brewing programme can be summarised as follows. The output of beer, calculated in terms of standard barrels, was:

Although the innocuous but insipid character of this light beer was the source of a good deal of grumbling at the time, it unquestionably helped to wean millions of the workers of Britain from their pre-War proclivity for unduly heavy drinks. The old habit of stupefaction by strong ales, which led to many being—not perhaps drunk, but fuddled, was permanently broken. So was the habit of men getting drunk on Saturday nights, which was so prevalent amongst a section of the wage earners before the War. This is one legacy of good from the wartime work of Food Control.

The system of food control which had been inaugurated by Lord Devonport was continued and extended by Lord Rhondda. One of the first decisions of the new Controller was to set up a Costing Department to examine the question of food costs with a view to fixing maximum prices, and on June 29th, 1917, an Order in Council was published under D.O.R.A., giving the Food Controller full powers of requisitioning food and fixing prices. It was necessary to take some strong action of this kind, because by June, 1917, the Board of Trade figures showed that the retail food prices had now risen one hundred and two per cent. above their level in July, 1914, whereas the general cost of living index, including food, had risen only seventy to seventy-five per cent.

The War Cabinet considered this matter further on July 19th, 1917. The steadily mounting prices for food were producing a good deal of industrial unrest which was interfering with the output of war material. Workers were striking to obtain higher wages with which to meet the higher costs of living. We felt that for the vigorous prosecution of the War a contented working class was indispensable, and we took note of the fact that in France bread was being supplied to the people at rates corresponding to an eight-penny quartern loaf. As wheat and flour were now under full control, we decided to fix the price of bread at ninepence per quartern loaf. This would involve the Treasury in a loss of £33 million. The French were spending £37 million in subsidising their loaf. We also authorised the Food Controller to fix prices for meat, varying with the customs of the different localities.

The decisions reached were announced by Lord Rhondda in the House of Lords on July 26th. He explained that his purpose was to fix the prices of these articles of prime necessity over the supply of which he could obtain effective control at every stage from the producer down to the retailer. He would use every effort to check speculation and eliminate needless middlemen. The work of the Food Ministry would be as far as possible decentralised, and important functions committed to the local authorities. Each would be asked to appoint a Food Control Committee, the duties of which would be to enforce the Food Controller’s orders; to register the retailers of the various foodstuffs; to recommend variations in the scale of retail food prices; to maintain and extend the economy campaign; and to administer the new scheme of sugar distribution, which would be made by means of sugar cards. He also described the arrangements whereby bread would be subsidised and its price fixed.

In the first week in August, Lord Rhondda circularised the local authorities, laying before them his scheme of food control. The principles of the policy were threefold: to conserve supplies; to ensure that rich and poor shared alike; and to keep down prices. He recommended central kitchens as a means of economising food and fuel. He set out the system of sugar cards that was to be inaugurated, and he notified the authorities of his intention to fix a general scale of prices for all important foodstuffs. Towards the end of August the wholesale and retail prices of meat were fixed by order. On August 10th, the appointment of six Food Commissioners was announced; four for England and Wales; two for Scotland. The Order setting up the Food Control Committees came out in the course of the month.

Thus was set up the machinery which functioned during the remainder of the War to secure the fair distribution and economical use of our limited supplies of food. Bearing in mind that it was a new and inexperienced ad hoc machinery, set up to carry through an unprecedented task; that those who had to work it in every town and country district were men already overburdened with duties, and short-handed—the pick of our manhood having been already withdrawn to serve their country overseas, and the best brains at home being already requisitioned for munitions and other forms of Government service; and remembering, too, that they were called on to restrict supplies of food, the most vitally indispensable of all commodities, which people will often sacrifice every scruple to obtain for themselves or those who are dependent on their care; considering these facts, it would be hard to praise too highly the fine spirit with which their task was faced, and the good average of efficiency with which it was carried out. We had set up the sternest but the fairest and most effective system of food production and control in any of the belligerent countries. The fact that it was administered with relentless impartiality made it austerely acceptable to all grades of society.

It is hardly necessary to linger long over the further progress of food restriction. In September, orders came into force, fixing the maximum wholesale and retail prices for meat, butter, flour and potatoes, and also for milk; and also wholesale prices for cheese. In November, a new scale of voluntary rations was announced, applying to meat, bread and all other cereals, butter, margarine, lard, fats and oils. Lord Rhondda was able to report that the steep upward motion of food prices had been checked and that in some cases they had even been reduced. Meat prices had fallen fifteen to twenty per cent. in the last few months.

In December, 1917, the growth of food queues outside the shops in London and some provincial centres led to a further Order by the Food Controller to ensure fair distribution and thus to prevent queues. Under this Order, local Food Committees could prohibit the sale of any specified food article except by a licensed or registered retailer; require him to sell it only to customers registered with him for the purpose, and only in quantities within limits laid down by the Committees. And they further had power to prevent any one retailer from taking more registered customers than he could conveniently serve without driving them into queues; to transfer supplies from one retailer to another; and to prescribe manner and time of sale.

With January 1st, 1918, a compulsory meatless day was enforced, and on one day a week no meat, cooked or uncooked, might be sold. Organized Labour, which had hitherto been opposed to compulsory rationing, declared itself at the end of December, 1917, in favour of it as an alternative to food queues, and in January, Mr. Clynes, the Parliamentary Secretary to the Food Ministry, announced that extensive rationing would before long be put into force. A scheme for this had been fully worked out months before by Sir Alfred Butt and a special Rationing Committee under Lord Devonport, before the latter resigned from the Food Ministry. On February 25th, 1918, a system of rationing meat, butter and margarine was put into force in London and the Home Counties, and early in April the rationing of meat was extended to the whole country. In July a new system of ration books was introduced. By this time the foods subject to compulsory rationing were sugar, butter, margarine, meat of all kinds, and lard. Tea was also subject to a system of restriction, and before long, jam and marmalade were added to the list of rationed articles.

So far as the vast bulk of the population was concerned, this rationing system, troublesome though in some respects it was to them, ensured a regular and sufficient food supply; and it made it possible for those in charge to calculate with some precision how best they could make the stocks of available foodstuffs go round equitably. When meat was slightly more plentiful, the ration could be raised. When it grew scarcer, the amount purchasable with each meat coupon was cut down. The steady improvement in our national health figures during and after the War, as compared with pre-War returns, shows that compulsory temperance in eating was in general more beneficial than harmful in its effects. Although there was a degree of scarcity, we were never faced with famine or actual privation. Credit is due to our people for the loyal manner in which they submitted themselves to these strange and unwelcome restrictions. Without general good will it would have been impossible to make the regulations effective. That good will did not fail. It was not impeded but helped by a few prosecutions for breach of the regulations, for the cases selected demonstrated that the Food Controller was no respecter of persons and that the law was enforced impartially for rich and poor alike.

3. Feeding Our Allies

The task of Food Control was complicated by the fact that, as the principal shipping Power on the Allied side, we had to take thought, not only for ourselves, but also for the Allies. Food cargoes which we urgently needed for our own population we had from time to time to divert to meet the needs of France and Italy, and to save their Governments from having to face dangerous discontent. While this food-importing island not only maintained but increased its home-grown food supplies during the War, France, a food-producing country, much more thinly populated, had to call more and more insistently for outside help. Some of its most fertile provinces were in enemy hands, and as the range and intensity of bombardment lengthened, the area of cultivation diminished. Moreover, as nearly half the French Army was drawn from the rural areas, the drain on the man power of France was telling seriously on the productiveness of the soil.

Soon after America entered the War, Mr. Hoover, who had been in charge of the work of Belgian Relief and had been appointed Food Controller in the United States, had an interview with Lord Robert Cecil and handed him a memorandum, proposing that since all the Allies were seeking to buy food in the States, it would be desirable for them to set up an International Board to coördinate their demands, ascertain the available supplies, and allocate them among the Allied countries. He pointed out that “the general outlook from now on is that the available supplies and shipping will be a diminishing, rather than an increasing, quantity; that, in consequence, control will need to be exercised in the allocation of these supplies among the Allies.” He further pointed out that “the important producing centres having surpluses for export are, with the exception of the Argentine, now under Allied control, and are, therefore, now possible of exclusive distribution and use by the Allies.” Coming to the position of America he says: “From a strictly American point of view, the centralisation of buying of any particular staple in one set of hands will promote the regulation of prices, and a knowledge of the amount of foodstuffs required by the Allies will promote any action which may be taken by the American Government with a view to control prices, stimulation of production, reduction of consumption of special staples, or the substitution of other American products for them so as to set free such staples for export. It is my impression that the large rise in prices during the last few months has been due in considerable measure to the rivalry of different Allied organisations in the American markets.”

The matter was considered at a meeting of the War Cabinet on April 18th, 1917, which Mr. Hoover was invited to attend. He is the only President of the United States who has taken part in the proceedings of the British Cabinet. We decided:

Agreement of the other Allies to this proposal was not speedily obtained, but eventually, on August 27th, 1917, an Inter-Allied Meat and Fats Executive was set up in London to deal with bacon and hams, lard, butter, cheese and meat—including preserved meat. The Commission carried on its work in close coöperation with Mr. Hoover, and evolved a scheme by which the requirements of the Allies were purchased on the same basis as those of the United States Army and Navy.

This Commission did not touch the purchase of wheat, which was handled in the United States by the Wheat Export Company, Inc., as agents for the Royal Commission on Wheat Supplies. This Commission worked with the Wheat Executive, an international body that we had arranged to set up in London to serve the interests of Britain, France and Italy. All wheat supplies for the Allies were procured, so far as American purchases were concerned, through this channel.

On October 25th, 1917, the matter of our Allies’ demands for more wheat imports came up before the War Cabinet. Lord Milner reported that M. Clémentel, the French Minister of Commerce, who was in London, was demanding bigger imports of corn into France, and pressing for the adoption of an arrangement which would lay down agreed minimum requirements for the United Kingdom, France and Italy respectively. I had similarly to report that the Italian Ambassador had called on me that morning and handed me an urgent request from Italy in respect of food. He had given me a very bad account, from his personal experience during a recent visit to Italy, of the food situation there.

Members of the War Cabinet pointed out that even if the French harvest was below the normal, there must still be plenty of food in that country. There was no system of distribution in France, comparable in its security or imperturbability to that which had been set up and was being applied in this country. The French demands amounted to a request that we should supply their deficiencies because the French Government was too weak to compel its peasantry to stop hoarding. Before long there would no doubt be real need in France, which we should have to help, because the French Government had not established any satisfactory system of control or limitation of consumption which would result in effective economies, even to the same extent as the economies which we were effecting voluntarily in this country. We decided that a careful examination of the facts must be first made before the terms of any pooling of food resources could be determined.

Five days later, on October 30th, 1917, Mr. Balfour reported to the War Cabinet that preliminary investigation showed the food situation in Italy to be really serious. The collapse of Caporetto had taken place while our previous discussion had been in progress, and though we were now arranging for strong military aid to Italy, it would be of little use if through a food shortage her population refused to go on with the War. As to France, M. Clémentel had announced his intention of going back to France to hand in his resignation if nothing satisfactory were settled by the end of the week.

The difficulty was of course primarily one of tonnage. There were so many urgent demands upon our shipping, including demands by our Allies for munitions and coal, that it was a question of how we could maintain our other vitally important commitments in the teeth of the growing shipping shortage, and at the same time increase food imports for the benefit of our Allies. The whole matter hinged on the general military policy, and we considered that we could come to no decision till this, and the general shipping situation in the light of it, had been reviewed.

Eventually we decided that:

In order to reassure M. Clémentel, an agreement was entered into whereby we expressed our readiness to view the responsibility for the food supplies of France and Italy as being a common charge on all the Allies, including the United States. At the War Cabinet meeting of November 6th, Lord Robert Cecil stressed the importance of this step, saying that Italian fear of food and coal shortage had been used by German propaganda as one means of helping to create the recent debacle of Caporetto. It was pointed out that under this agreement we had decided that the carriage of the food for the Allies, as well as the purchase, should be for joint account. Sir Joseph Maclay said that if we must provide a further two million tons of shipping space in 1918 to carry cereals to France and Italy, we must cut our own requirements down by this additional amount. Already he was estimating a cut of six million tons in our 1918 imports, and this fresh demand would involve a total cut of over eight million tons of imports.

We appointed a Committee to go into the question of the imports to be sacrificed in this connection. The task was not made any more welcome by the information laid before the War Cabinet on November 14th, that the French Government had refrained from requisitioning all their available tonnage, and were allowing part of it to continue to be used for private profit. It also came to our knowledge on the same day that the French had raised an additional eight hundred thousand tons of coal from their collieries in the course of the year, but had omitted to inform us of the fact.

Meantime we were being urged to divert to Italy as many as possible of the cargoes of oats now on their way to us from America, to save the Italian cavalry from being immobilised. The cavalry obsession had crossed the Alps. No General could contemplate the possibility of a war which did not furnish at least one picture of a cavalry charge. The stocks of oats for our own army transports in France were at the time very low, but I recognised that every effort must be made at this critical moment to keep Italy contented, and we accordingly arranged to send to Italy the oats we had purchased from the United States for our own army, and replenish our own supplies in France from such stocks as were available in Great Britain and in Ireland.

There can be little question that our Continental Allies failed to carry out anything in the way of food control at all comparable with the firmly organised measures we adopted in this country. At the War Cabinet for February 14th, 1918, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs stated that the French Ambassador had expressed serious misgivings in regard to the British food supply, and doubted whether the British people would be content with the proposed scale of rations. The French had tried the plan of limiting prices, and it had failed completely, with the result that they had been compelled to adopt another system.

On April 24th, 1918, we had to consider an urgent appeal from Italy for more wheat. The situation was that the arrivals of wheat in each of the Allied countries were short of the programme in approximately the same proportion, but that the difference between the French and ourselves on the one hand, and Italy on the other, was that we had begun the year with several weeks’ supply in reserve, and that the French had now been obliged to admit that they had had also several, though not quite as many, weeks’ stock in reserve. The Italians, on the other hand, had no reserve and had actually impinged on the new harvest before the new cereal year had commenced. They had just enough, if no exceptional losses of wheat in transit, such as had sometimes taken place, occurred.

We decided to send them a special allotment of an extra twenty-five thousand tons of wheat.

In the case of France, there is, of course, no doubt that the deadly drain of the War upon its man power left it very short-handed for the tilling of its fields. In August, 1918, the French went to the length of sending over to Ireland to recruit Irish labourers for work on the land. Yet bearing in mind that nearly half the population of France, and two thirds that of Italy, obtained their livelihood on the land, as compared with less than a tenth of the population in this country, and that their populations were very much smaller in relation to their agricultural acreage, it is remarkable that we had for the last year of the War to undertake the responsibility of feeding them both. The French and the Italians had not taken the measures adopted here to increase their mechanical powers and their stocks of fertilisers.

Beyond any question, our food organisation both for increasing the yield of our own soil, and for limiting and economically distributing to our own people the available foodstuffs, was superior to that set up by any of the combatant countries.

By the combined measures we took to increase the home production of food whilst restricting consumption beyond the limit of strict necessity, we reached the end of the War without enduring the privations that broke the spirit of other equally brave nations engaged in the struggle. We were able not only to feed ourselves but to help in conveying food for our Allies. The last and most trying year of the War we raised from our own soil more cereals than in the years before the War. If the failure to organise and administer to the best advantage the food resources of Russia and the Central Empires led to their defeat, it will be conceded that the handling of the food problem in this country contributed in no small measure to the attainment of ultimate victory by the Allies. It would be hard to overstate the service rendered by our wartime Ministry of Food, and those who gave—many of them without pay—their services to it, in organising from this side the victory of the Allies.

In war the ultimate problem is man power. It was in the last resort the number, calibre, equipment and training of the men that made or worked the machinery of war or sustained the life of the nation during the War, that would decide whether we could endure to the end where victory awaits. It was not necessarily the strongest nation that wins, but the one that has made the best use of its strength.

By the end of the third campaign, man power in all the countries engaged in the struggle was reaching the point of exhaustion. Germany had made a better use of machinery, engineering skill and intelligent training to save her men than any other nation in the fight. In spite, therefore, of the enormous front on which her armies fought, and the hundreds of battles in which they had been engaged, West, East and Southeast, her casualties were lower in proportion to the numbers of her fighting men than those of any other army on either side. The sanguinary attack on Verdun was planned on the principle that the machine was to take the leading part in crushing the defence. The result was that although it was a German offensive against Frenchmen protected by tremendous forts, the defenders lost more men than the assailants. Nevertheless, the German losses were already heavy, and Germany was experiencing a difficulty in filling up gaps in her armies, whilst at the same time meeting the demands for increased equipment on land and sea and for making up the diminishing supplies of food at home. Austria had suffered heavily, not merely from casualties necessarily incurred in fighting so many great battles against Russians, Italians, Serbians, and Roumanians, but even more from the readiness with which her Slavonic troops surrendered on the Russian Front, sometimes by thousands, often by tens of thousands, and in at least one battle by the hundreds of thousands. In France and Britain the profligate expenditure of young life in ill-conceived offensives—and, in Russia, in muddle and corruption—had left the belligerents short of the necessary reserves to keep up the prodigious wastage. At this date the warring nations had lost by death or crippling wounds ten million men in the flower of their strength. The number of prisoners of war ran into millions. Our great volunteer army was not ready for the fighting before 1916. Our casualties were not therefore comparable to those suffered by France or Germany; but by the end of that year our losses were already over one million. The spring offensive had added two hundred thousand to the melancholy pyre. As French man power was on the wane, the burden of the struggle was falling more and more upon us. At sea the fight was almost entirely ours, and its strain was increasing. On land the struggle in the West was left gradually to our Army. In the Far East it was entirely ours. This meant more and more men for the fighting lines. But it also meant that the demands behind the lines for supplies to the Army and Navy were rapidly increasing everywhere. The fulfilment of these requirements involved the employment of more men. The Army and Navy wanted more men—but so did the munition works, to turn out guns, tanks, ammunition, and anti-submarine appliances. The shipyards had to treble their output in merchant ships, and in naval craft and in repair of both, otherwise our sea transport would break down under the exceptional strain of incessant active service, we should lose the command of the sea and the Allies might be starved into surrender. The Allies were clamouring for more coal: the coal mines demanded more men to increase output. The fields needed more men to increase essential food commodities, so as to satisfy the requirements which hitherto had been supplied from across the seas. All this complication of urgent demands resolved itself into a problem of making the best use of a reserve of man power which was not equal to the full need, even with the most efficient and scientific distribution. And there were limits to the power of any Government to place the manhood of the nation to the best advantage.

The deep-rooted tradition of personal liberty which has long held sway in Britain made it a matter of the greatest difficulty for the Government to secure general consent for the exercise of its common-law right to call on all its citizens to carry out such tasks as it might lay on them for the national security. You cannot move human beings about with the ease and passive acquiescence of pawns on a chessboard. There is a limit where the most complex and implacable human emotions offer resistance to the demands made on the human will for departure from wont and habit. Patriotism has eccentric and incalculable limitations in different countries. It is often the result of some ancient conflict which has left traditional resistance in the very fibre of a nation’s mind, just as in deep ploughing you come against boulders deposited in the soil during the glacial period. In France, where for generations they have been accustomed to being conscripted for military service, no difficulties were encountered in calling up every able-bodied man for the Army. On the other hand, Governments there shrank from raising for war purposes money by new imposts with which the French citizen was not familiar, and although the young men of France and Germany entered readily at the call into the stern bondage of army discipline in war, and were prepared to face death at an order given to them, no Government would dare enforce the same discipline at the works where war material was produced. The traditions of the workshop were not those of the Army.

I have previously described how slowly and unwillingly a system of compulsion for military service was adopted in this country. But military service, while the most spectacular and heroic method of serving the country, was by no means the exclusively important one. Indeed, throughout the War there were at all times more of the male population of Great Britain (as of all other belligerents) employed at home on Government work than there were overseas in the expeditionary forces. Apart from munitions of war on land and sea, which included a large building programme and large repairing establishments for the Navy, there were the ordinary demands of a population of forty-six million. These had to be supplied by what was left of our workers after eight million had been taken away either for the Army and Navy or for their munitionment and supply. The task of supreme difficulty for the Government was to secure that every man should be used where he would be of greatest value. It was a task never fully carried out, though in the last two years of the War considerable progress was made towards its achievement. As the War developed, as the military and naval demands became greater and man power decreased through casualties, the problem in all belligerent countries became more and more urgent.

The ideal would have been for the whole population to be conscripted at the very outbreak of the War, and every man posted forthwith in accordance with a wisely thought-out plan to the job where he would be of most service to our war effort. But such a war as that of 1914-1918 had never been experienced or foreseen, much less planned for, even by the militarist nations of the Continent. As for us, we had relied on our Navy to keep off the invader. Our Army was just a police force for the Empire. Protected by the moat, our whole national temper had been tuned to the organisation and tasks of peace. So our early war efforts were spasmodic and largely incoherent. Men were allowed to go abroad in our fighting forces who were vitally wanted at home, while others who could far better have been spared for the Army, proceeded to regard themselves as indispensable at home. Indispensability was largely a question of individual choice and disposition and not of national interest. The peace-time organisations of industry, both Capital and Labour, were maintained for lack of any well-planned system to replace them. As the War went on, Government control and direction were slowly extended. Capital suffered a certain measure of conscription through the Excess Profits Duties and the control of profits in establishments making munitions. Industry experienced a direct overruling, through the conversion of many workshops into controlled establishments and the setting up of national factories. Railways and shipping, the restriction and licensing of imports, and transport gradually passed more and more under Government control. Labour was in some measure placed under compulsion by the setting up of “reserved occupations”, the badging of men engaged on necessary Government work, restrictions on transfer from one establishment to another, and the powers held by the Government under the Military Service Acts of taking men for the Army if they were not doing work of sufficient national importance at home. But some of the most important steps were taken only with great difficulty against the tenacious opposition or the immutable habitude of the vested interests of capital and labour. There was no lack of patriotism. But there were endless prejudices, traditions, jealousies and susceptibilities that impeded its quick and full action.

As regards the control of our man power, our difficulty throughout the War with the representatives of labour centred round the suspicion of profiteering by the proprietors of works engaged on Government contracts, so that the workers in them had not the same feeling of direct and whole-hearted national service that they developed in the Army or Navy. To conscript men for industry seemed to the workers equivalent to forcing them by law to work for the benefit of private capitalists—a proceeding which they would quite rightly have resisted to the uttermost. Yet much of this work was at least as vital to our national safety as was the maintenance at full strength of our fighting forces. For them we could take men almost at will, fixing our own standards of age and physical fitness. For the home front we had to rely still on the voluntary system, reinforced in some measure by the provisions to which I have already alluded.

It was to deal with this very difficult but essential problem that on setting up my Ministry at the end of 1916 I decided to form a new Department of National Service. The War Committee under the previous Government had already, as one of its last acts, approved in principle on November 30th, 1916, the introduction of a system of National Service, leaving the details to be worked out by a committee, presided over by Mr. Montagu, then Minister of Munitions. The suggestion was that it should apply to all men up to sixty years of age, and possibly also to women. A first draft for a bill to enact this system was prepared by the Committee, and came before the new War Cabinet on December 14th, 1916. I was away at the time, suffering from an attack of influenza. In my absence the War Cabinet shrank from reaching any final decision on this complex and far-reaching subject, but gave a preliminary survey to the question and provisionally decided that:

The War Cabinet were of opinion that Mr. E. S. Montagu would be the best man to undertake the duties of Director. We duly offered him this post, but he did not at the time feel prepared to undertake it, and we eventually fell back upon Mr. Neville Chamberlain. He was appointed in a hurry, as I had to announce the appointment in the House of Commons in my speech on the policy of the new Government. I had never seen him, and I accepted his qualifications for the post on the recommendation of those who had heard of his business and municipal experience.

What ensued from the decision of the Cabinet to extend the principle of compulsion to industries during the War illustrates the insuperable difficulties encountered not only here, but in every belligerent country in applying conscription to workers in factories and workshops.

The discussions of Mr. Henderson with his colleagues in the Labour Party had important consequences, for when we resumed discussion of the matter on December 19th, he reported to us that the antagonism of organised labour to the proposal of industrial conscription was so strong that it would be very difficult to introduce, and might lead to widespread disturbance and disaffection. We had only with the utmost difficulty succeeded in coaxing the skilled workers of the country to accept measures of dilution of labour and relaxation of their Trade Union restrictions. These concessions had been enshrined in bargains ratified by such measures as the Munitions of War Acts, and the late Government had given pledges against industrial conscription as the price. If the organised skilled workers united to oppose compulsion in industry, it would be a mistaken policy to attempt to carry it out, even had it been feasible to do so. National unity alone could pull us through. By this step we should encounter the hostility of organised masses. Accordingly, the Cabinet agreed that having regard to the feeling of organised labour on the subject of industrial compulsion, and the pledges given by the late Government, and to the volume of preliminary work necessary for the creation of an adequate and efficient machinery, local and central, it would be necessary to proceed, in the first instance, on the lines of voluntary enrolment and transference of labour without a Bill.

We further agreed that, in the statement to be made to the Houses, an assurance should be given that Labour would be associated with any organisation which it was decided to establish under the Director of National Service, and that no time limit should be fixed for the introduction of compulsion, but that the Prime Minister (in the Commons) and Lord Curzon (in the Lords) should make it clear that, if the voluntary effort failed, the Government would ask Parliament to release them from any pledges heretofore given on the subject of industrial compulsion, and to furnish them with adequate powers for rendering their proposals effective. In the meantime, it would be the duty of the Director to set up for voluntary enrolment and transference, machinery which might hereafter serve the purpose of compulsion, if compulsion became necessary.

The Secretary of State for War wished to have it put on record that, in order to maintain the drafts, not less than one hundred thousand men fit for general service must be obtained during January, and that in his opinion it would soon become necessary for the Government to introduce an amending Military Service Bill.

At the disposal of the new Ministry was the experience already accumulated by the recruiting machinery, and by the Man Power Distribution Board, which had for some time been functioning as an agency for keeping track of the available labour in the country, and furnishing workers to the establishments and departments engaged on Government business. The business of the new Director was to organise as swiftly and as completely as possible a voluntary enrolment of all the available labour in the country, and at the same time to compile a census of the labour requirements of the nation’s industries and activities, tabulating these in order of their importance for our war effort; so that on the one hand we might be able to know exactly where to lay our hands on the men needed for the Army, and on the other hand might be able promptly to replace any taken from urgently important work by other men or women who were surplus or potentially surplus in less important occupations.

Mr. Neville Chamberlain was in short charged with the task of creating machinery capable of controlling and distributing in the most economical and effective manner the whole man power of the country. To begin with, the man power he would actually have at his disposal would, for civil purposes, be only so much of the whole as could be induced to volunteer, though for military purposes his field covered every fit man of military age. But both the previous Cabinet and my own had approved in principle the introduction of compulsory universal national service, and if voluntary enrolment failed, we were prepared to accord Mr. Chamberlain further powers; so that he was required to construct his machinery in such a way that it could function efficiently as an instrument in charge of all the nation’s man power.

The right to conscript for the Army involved an indirect measure of universal compulsion for all fit men of military age for all national purposes. Unless a man were both needed and actually employed on some essential service at home, he was liable to be drafted into the Army or Navy. Every one, whatever his avocation or station, knew that, and this knowledge was not without its influence on national discipline and efficiency. It was at the back of men’s minds ever since the obligation of military service became compulsory, that if they were not fulfilling their duties as citizens in the spheres where they would be of the greatest use to their country, they would be needed in France or elsewhere in the fighting lines, and would have to go if called up.

The decision having been taken to work the National Service scheme, in the first instance, on a voluntary basis, I did what I could to help Mr. Chamberlain to make a good start. On January 10th, 1917, the War Cabinet decided to dissolve the Man Power Distribution Board, and transfer all its functions and archives to the new Ministry. At the same time we asked the new Director to prepare for our consideration a statement of the operations he contemplated, the measures he believed necessary for securing coördination with the various departments concerned with labour, and the powers he would require for the purpose. Two days later I called a conference at which Lord Milner, Mr. Henderson and myself, with the Director of National Service, met the President of the Local Government Board, the President of the Board of Agriculture and the Minister of Labour, to enable Mr. Chamberlain to review with these Ministers the implications of his task, and the manner in which his organisation could best function. As a result of our discussion, he was asked to prepare a memorandum, setting out:

Mr. Neville Chamberlain’s Memorandum was forthcoming on January 19th, 1917, on which date it was carefully examined by the War Cabinet. It was in two parts, the first dealing with the supply of men to the Army, and the second with the proposed organisation of the Ministry for enrolling the civil population and allocating labour where it was most wanted. To meet the demands of the Army for recruits, his chief proposal was to withdraw exemptions from all fit men up to the age of twenty-two by a General Order, to which the fewest possible exceptions should be allowed. There would also have to be a further combing-out of those employed in the less essential industries. For the organisation of National Service he set out a scheme of headquarters staff and District Commissioners, and proposed to take over the Labour Exchanges as his instrument for effecting the actual transfer of volunteers to the industries where they were chiefly needed. As regards further powers, he asked for authority to settle all questions relating to the use and transfer of male and female civilian labour, and for the right to issue Orders and Regulations and create the requisite machinery for the work.

The War Cabinet made several modifications in this scheme. We authorised the calling-up of thirty thousand men from Agriculture, twenty thousand from Mining and fifty thousand semi-skilled and unskilled workers from Munitions, and outside these groups, the calling-up of all young men from eighteen to twenty-two years of age. But the Employment Exchanges should remain under the Minister of Labour, who would place them at the disposal of the Minister of National Service for organising his scheme. We asked Mr. Chamberlain to revise his scheme along the lines we indicated.

On February 6th, 1917, the national appeal for voluntary enrolment of the population under the National Service scheme was launched at a meeting at the Central Hall, Westminster, where Mr. Neville Chamberlain outlined his proposals, and I delivered a speech warmly endorsing them.

Mr. Chamberlain appealed to the whole civilian population between the ages of eighteen and sixty-one to enrol for National Service (with the exception of doctors and ministers of religion, for whose services special arrangements were being made). A separate department for Woman’s National Service was being set up under the Ministry, with Mrs. H. J. Tennant at its head. War munition volunteers were included in the appeal, though they would not be transferred as a result of their registration to other work. Volunteers would be allocated to the work for which their training best fitted them—as far as possible in their home district. Rates of pay would be those prevailing in the job they undertook, with a minimum of twenty-five shillings a week, and a subsistence grant if they had to live away from home.

Mr. Chamberlain pointed out there were practically no men unemployed, so there would have to be a restriction of nonessential trades to provide workers to take the place of men called to the Army from essential trades. He suggested that without absolutely closing down any trades, such economy might be secured by pooling their resources of machinery, labour and materials as would free men from the less essential trades and yet leave them stronger after the War than before.

On February 22nd the Ministry of National Service Bill was introduced into the House of Commons to define the status and duties of the Director, and give him powers of making orders and regulations. It received the Royal Assent on March 28th. The debates on it showed that there was a great deal of anxiety in some quarters lest any system of industrial compulsion should be imposed, and specific pledges were given and incorporated in the Act that compulsion would not be introduced without further parliamentary sanction.

A considerable publicity scheme was carried out by Mr. Chamberlain to press home his appeal for volunteers. The fullest governmental support was accorded to him in the hope that his efforts would succeed in placing our man-power problem upon a satisfactory basis, and constructing an efficient and smooth-running organisation to deal with it.

Our hopes were not realised. The Ministry of National Service was, it must be frankly confessed, a great disappointment, especially during the early months of its existence. Labouring under the handicap of the voluntary system by which it was being operated, it failed to achieve the ends for which it was set up; but more serious was the fact that it showed little sign that it would have worked efficiently if it had been granted compulsory powers.

The difficulties with which it was faced were admittedly immense. The fit men of military age still engaged in civilian occupations had either been exempted because they were engaged in work of vital national importance, or on some special exceptional ground. The employers from whom it was proposed to withdraw them fought to the last ditch for their continued exemption and were most unwilling to consider taking on other less experienced labour in their stead. The Unions to which they belonged similarly opposed their withdrawal, and the further dilution which substitute labour would involve. To provide such substitute labour meant robbing those industries and employments which were deemed to be less vital to our national effort, and if it was a ticklish matter to make such a black list, it was no less difficult to induce the businesses concerned to accept their own repression. And although Mr. Chamberlain had been accorded the coöperation of the employment exchanges, he was not successful in making smooth-working arrangements by which these should carry out the very important task of placing transferred labour in its new employment.

The result was a great deal of muddle and confusion. Stories got about of men who had volunteered for National Service; had been thereupon instructed to throw up their present jobs and hold themselves at the disposal of the Director; and having done so, found themselves waiting about for weeks, without work or wages. The effect was, of course, to check voluntary enrolment. Meantime the War Office was complaining that it was not getting the men which it had been promised under the scheme. Nothing like the full number of recruits that had been promised from Agriculture, Railways, Mines and Munitions in January were actually forthcoming by the end of May. Nor, on the other hand, was the substitute labour and the assistance from the forces of the Home Defence Army which had been promised to agriculture actually furnished on the agreed scale.

Voluntary enrolment was definitely disappointing. Of those who put down their names, three fifths were already engaged in work of vital importance, and less than half of the remainder were suitable for employment in the trades for which workers were most needed by the country. Mr. Chamberlain had appealed in the first instance for the enrolment of at least half a million men. After two months, less than a third of this number had been obtained. On April 17th, 1917, Mr. Bridgeman stated in Parliament in reply to a question:

There is no disguising the unsatisfactory implication of these figures. The net result to date of the setting-up of a big Department at St. Ermin’s, and of the appointment of officials all over the country, and of sixty thousand pounds spent on publicity, was the placing in employment of less than three thousand men. There had been, of course, a good deal of useful work inaugurated by this Department, which was later to bear fruit—in particular, the organisation of women’s service by the Women’s Branch under Mrs. Tennant, which gave us the W.A.A.C.’s and the Land Girls. But as an instrument for dealing with our man-power problem, for furnishing the needed recruits for the Army and filling their places at home with substitute labour, the new Ministry of National Service was not a success.

The Cabinet was fully alive to this unsatisfactory state of affairs, and several efforts were made to help the new Department to tackle its job, but they were all futile. A vein of self-sufficient obstinacy in the new Minister contributed to the difficulties that baffled all our endeavours.

There was a general feeling amongst all who were set to investigate the cause of the failure of the new Department that it was being run in a narrow spirit of unimaginative officialism and that its limbs were bound in a tangle of red tape which kept it from getting ahead with its job. Constant attempts were made by me and others to infuse a new spirit into the Department by the introduction of men of a more suitable type into the work, especially on the publicity side. Mr. Chamberlain regarded these suggestions as involving an aspersion on the men he had chosen for the purpose—all able men for other tasks. He stubbornly resisted every proposal made to him for improving and strengthening the Department in certain directions where it was patently deficient.

The machinery which Mr. Chamberlain created showed itself incompetent to deal even with volunteer recruits and certainly too unreliable to be entrusted with the administration of dictatorial powers. Possibly the task would have been beyond any man’s ability. It called for a great breadth and boldness of conception, a remorseless energy and thoroughness of execution, and for the exercise of supreme tact in dealing with other departments, notably the recruiting machinery and the Ministries of Labour, Munitions, Agriculture and Trade, in order to avert friction, jealousies and the stranglehold of red tape. We needed, in short, a man of exceptional gifts. A man may possess very considerable ability without qualifying for that definition. Mr. Neville Chamberlain is a man of rigid competency. Such men have their uses in conventional times or in conventional positions, and are indispensable for filling subordinate posts at all times. But they are lost in an emergency or in creative tasks at any time.

On July 13th, 1917, the War Cabinet had under consideration a report by Mr. Neville Chamberlain, urging the cancellation of Government exemptions to every man in the younger classes; and in support of this proposal he declared that there were at present so few vacancies to fill that if his proposal were not adopted, “he did not see that there was much object in the continued existence of his Department.”

On the 13th of August, 1917, Mr. C. Beck, the Parliamentary Secretary to the Ministry, stated in reply to a question:

Critically examined, it was not perhaps a very heroic record for the Department, but it had rendered some help in an important need. Parliament did not however deem the help adequate to the need or the cost. A Select Committee appointed by the House of Commons on July 25th, 1917, to consider possible Government economies reported with regard to the Ministry of National Service that its system of filing and correspondence could with advantage be simplified; that its staff could be housed in a smaller area and that some of the salaries were needlessly high; and in general that:

Early in August, Mr. Neville Chamberlain resigned his position at the head of the Ministry of National Service, which was thereupon reconstructed. The organisation of recruiting was transferred to it, and Sir Auckland Geddes was made Director-General in place of Mr. Chamberlain. He brought with him from the War Office General Hutchison (now Lord Hutchison), who afforded him helpful and tactful assistance. Shortly afterwards a clear and definite agreement was reached between the Ministry of National Service and the Ministry of Labour as to the precise division and inter-connection of their functions, and this was set out in a memorandum that was duly examined and approved by Lord Milner’s Committee on Man Power and Recruiting, and was further confirmed by the War Cabinet on September 12th, 1917. The memorandum covered questions such as those of general labour supply, priority, schemes of enrolment, allocation, transfer and substitution of labour, Trade Committees, out-of-work benefit, imported labour, and so on. Lord Milner’s Committee appended a Note on the functions of the Ministry of National Service which may be regarded as describing its operations from this time forward. These functions were:

Thenceforward the Ministry worked smoothly and efficiently along these lines. Its tasks were of increasing difficulty, as the problems alike of securing fresh recruits for the Army and of maintaining the labour supply of the country grew more acute and were accentuated by labour unrest. Here is an illustration of some of the difficulties experienced owing to the germs that swept across from Russia and produced feverish symptoms everywhere. In mid-October, 1917, the Cabinet learned that the situation in the South Wales coal field was serious. Anti-war elements among the miners were organising resistance to the combing-out of recruits for the Army. Sir Auckland Geddes appealed for our help, as the mines represented the last great pool for men, both for the Army and for transferable labour. We decided to support his action to the full; and as we learned that the more patriotic leaders of the miners in South Wales had suggested a visit from General Smuts, we asked the General if he would address a meeting at Mountain Ash at an early date. He consented to do so.

General Smuts tells the story of his adventure in the South Wales volcanic area. Before he went, he asked me if I could give him any advice as to the line to take. I seem to have said to him: “Remember that my fellow countrymen are great singers!” The hint stuck. It was the only advice I gave him. What followed can perhaps be best told in his own words:

Anxious moments such as this strike outbreak were all too frequent in our experience during the War, and the Ministry of National Service had to mingle the utmost tact with its firmness in order to carry through its essential task.

Strikes and the Labour unrest which characterised 1917 aggravated our difficulties with man power. But had there been no labour troubles, the number of fit men available for indispensable duties was not equal to every need. It was certainly not commensurate with the growing demand. The slaughter of Passchendaele added to these difficulties. As I shall point out, when I come to relate the story of that bloody battle, or series of battles, the French had deliberately chosen a fighting policy which would save their men for the final struggle of 1918 when America would be ready to join in. Our Generals had deliberately chosen the opposite policy of flinging masses of our troops against concrete machine-gun emplacements, with the result that hundreds of thousands were put out of action. Then they demanded the replacement of the lost units which ought not to have been wasted in such a fight. As far back as May, 1917, we had repeatedly warned our military leaders that we should have no men available in 1917 for any great enterprises involving heavy casualties. They disregarded this intimation and thereby added considerably to the trouble we were experiencing in finding sufficient men for the urgent needs of the nation on land and sea, at home and abroad. How we were hampered by the shortage in our life-and-death struggle against starvation is told in the chapters on Food and Shipbuilding. Without the Department of National Service, we could not have solved the problems of making the best use of our man power. It made a clumsy start, but when it was reorganised it handled its delicate and troublesome duties efficiently and well.

1. Existing Strategical Plans

Amongst the first duties that fell to the Cabinet was a survey of the military position, with a view to deciding whether any reconsideration of the plans agreed to by the late Government for the campaign of 1917 was desirable or possible.

As I have been subjected to much adverse criticism for not insisting upon a complete reversal of the strategical policy hitherto pursued, it is necessary that I should at this stage review the military situation as I found it when I took office.

When I took over the civilian direction of the War as Prime Minister, the conditions under which the struggle was to continue had been already irrevocably fixed by decisions or failures to decide, against which I had made unceasing but unavailing protests at every step.

Our great commanders, having refused or neglected to organise a break-through where and when it was feasible, and having made ineffective attempts on fronts where such rupture was impossible, thereby throwing away myriads of valuable lives and losing inestimable time and opportunity, being unable to think out anything more original, had fallen back on attrition—always the game of the poor player. This is how the proposition presented itself to them:—

The possibility never entered into the computation of these master minds that the survivors might sooner or later object to this method of “forming fours” by taking their turn in the slaughterhouse from which such multitudes of their comrades never emerged. These arid strategists only saw that the units they commanded had for three consecutive campaigns marched into the death zone without flinching, and that to the very end of the terrible battles of 1916 they never faltered or hesitated, in spite of the fact that already twelve millions of them were dead or mutilated. Why, therefore, should the survivors now shrink from the fate which their fellows had confronted with such fortitude and resignation?

With each campaign, the opportunities for trying the policy of attacking the enemy where he was most vulnerable became bricked up by the enemy and had now narrowed down to the extreme East and to the Italian Front. Up till the autumn of 1915, the Balkan door was kept wide open by the Serbian Army, one of the best fighting units in the field. The failure of the Dardanelles attack, the refusal to exploit the Salonika base, and the abandonment of Serbia bolted and barred that door: the defeat of Roumania and the impending collapse of Russia would soon eliminate the last possibilities of the Near East. The opportunities—nay, rather the openings—of the Danube Front had been fooled away. The chances of utilising the gigantic man power of Russia had almost vanished—had in effect gone, although at that date no one grasped the ominous fact. Was there any other chance left except once more to sprinkle the western portal of the temple of Moloch with blood from what remained of the most valiant hearts amongst the youth of France and Britain? I decided to explore every possibility before surrendering to a renewal of the horrors of the West.

At the Chantilly Military Conference in November, 1916, the Generals had gone through the form of pretending that a break through the Balkan barrier was still attainable and that they contemplated an operation to that end for the early spring. They led the politicians to believe that there was a fair chance even then of breaking through on the Southeastern Front, and effectively attacking the armies of the Central Powers on their flank, thus driving them out of Roumania and establishing a clear line of communication with both Roumania and Russia in that quarter. I felt certain that they never meant it, for they never took any measures to prepare for so formidable a military enterprise. It was all a piece of humbug, written with a chuckle at the thought of the ease with which the politicians assembled at that time in Paris could be taken in. They made no arrangements to send the reinforcements, guns, or munitions essential to a vigorous offensive. They did not even make any effort to fill up the gaps in the units already there. It was at least nominally part of the Chantilly strategy to undertake an offensive in the Balkans with the Danube as its objective. But although the Paris Conference in November had endorsed the plan proposed by the Allied Military Staffs, no action of any sort or kind had been taken to implement it. In men, guns, ammunition and transport the situation of the Salonika force was if anything worse than it had been before the Chantilly decision. An effort of that kind, had it been made immediately with all the available strength of the Western Powers, might have succeeded. General Milne (now Field Marshal Lord Milne), who was then in command of the British forces at Salonika, in a recent speech confirms this appreciation of the military position. He says that “the reason why he had kept them for so long doing nothing on the Salonika Front was because he was not given the means that he considered necessary, and which he had asked for, to enable them to enter into battle with any hope of success. Soldiers could not go into war and expect to win without most fearful sacrifices if the authorities at home did not properly back them up with every means at their disposal.”

It was probably too late then to achieve the rescue of Roumania from the wolves that were tearing at her entrails. The Western Allies had almost forced her into the War without taking the trouble of ascertaining whether she was equipped for such an enterprise, and without making any preparations for coming to her aid if she were hard pressed. General Alexeieff was opposed to the Roumanian intervention. He knew how ill-prepared was the Roumanian Army to resist the forces that would be brought to bear upon it by the Central Powers. He also realised that upon his own exhausted armies would fall the work of rescue when Roumania was being crushed by her powerful foes. But although he was more concerned with the decision than any other Allied General, he was not consulted. So much for the common front about which we heard so much at the Paris Conference in the booming rhetoric of M. Briand and Mr. Asquith.

All the same, if timely action had been taken immediately after Chantilly, it might have completely transformed the situation to the advantage of the Allies. Austria, menaced on three flanks, would undoubtedly have collapsed. The Russian Army could have been regenerated and re-inspired. The Germans would have been forced to withdraw masses of their best troops from the Western Front to support a crumbling Austria. As usual, no effort was made to carry out this bold plan. It was nothing more than a show to delude the Ministers into an acceptance of the same old strategy. The only front that was attacked was the political. The moment that was captured, the Staffs reported to each other, to use a military phrase, “Our objectives have been attained.” They might have added “The casualties were slight”, but that phrase was not to be found in their pigeonholes. Casualties there were, however; Joffre, who designed this manœuvre, fell as a result of it and the Asquith Government, which acquiesced in it, also went.

By January, 1917, the Roumanian overthrow had entirely altered the Balkan position. The complete defeat of the Roumanian Army and the occupation of the more important Roumanian towns, and especially of the corn fields, demolished the Allied military plans and strengthened the position of the Central Powers, whilst it undoubtedly worsened and weakened the strategical position of the Allies—notably Russia. Her isolation was almost complete at a time when she needed help and comradeship more than ever. Roumania was no longer a menace to an Austrian flank, needing cover and protection. Her overthrow was the final and fatal blow to Russia. The prodigious effort put forth by the exhausted Muscovite Army to support its unfortunate ally left Russia prostrate and panting. Her already insufficient transport facilities were still further strained. Her long line of front, which she had not enough trained and equipped men to defend, was stretched by hundreds of kilometers. One fourth of Russia’s fighting men had to be sent to the Roumanian Front. The last ounce of her fighting strength was spent in the effort, and her strained heart never recovered sufficient vigour to enable her to stand up to her victorious foes. All hope of a Russian revival was buried on the banks of the Pruth, and the Moldavian Delta became the cemetery of the Empire of the Romanoffs. The Roumanian collapse moreover had placed the Central Powers economically in a much better position. It eased the pressure of the blockade and gave them further time and encouragement to push their submarine campaign. Ludendorff points out that the occupation of the Roumanian corn lands and oil fields placed the Central Powers “in occupation of an area rich in just those warlike resources which they lacked” and referring to the Roumanian stores they captured he says: “As I saw now quite clearly, we should not have been able to exist, much less carry on the War, without Roumanians corn and oil, even though we had saved the Galician oil fields of Drohobycz from the Russians.” He boasts with justifiable pride of how “a serious crisis in Constantinople was fortunately averted by the timely delivery of Roumanian wheat.”

Instead of a road being blasted through by the Allies from Salonika to Galatz and thence to Moscow, a new road had been opened up by the Central Powers through Rustchuck and Adrianople right up to the Ægean. The momentous change which had taken place since Chantilly in the strategic situation in the Balkans was brought home to the Allies by the introduction of a new element and a fresh menace in that quarter. We soon discovered that instead of planning an offensive expedition of a considerable magnitude, we were confronted with a danger to the very existence of our Expeditionary Force at Salonika. Tension with the Greek Government had recently become acute. In Greece, Constantine, the Kaiser’s brother-in-law, was once more on top. He had been playing fast and loose with the Allies, and there was good reason to believe that his real sympathies were with Germany and that he would seize any opportunity that offered to further her interests and incidentally his own. He had a sentimental interest in Monastir, the scene of his easy triumphs in the Balkan War. Venizelos, the loyal friend of the Allies, because of that friendship was a refugee from his country and a rebel against his King. His followers had formed a provisional Government that held sway in Crete and a number of the Greek islands, and in the Salonika district; but they were being barbarously treated whenever they fell into the power of the Royalist Government. Information reached the French Staff that the Germans were meditating a coup against the Salonika Expeditionary Force. According to the intelligence reaching their Headquarters, the enemy were organising a combined attack by Turks, Bulgarians, Germans and Austrians—and most sinister of all, by Greeks—upon our scattered, depleted, ill-placed and badly equipped army. Whilst the victorious forces of the Central Powers were to dash down from the hills to the north and to the east, a Greek army was to attack the Allied flank from the south. There was evidence that could not be disregarded of the substantial character of this rumour. Constantine was massing troops in Northern Thessaly. For what purpose, unless they meant to attack? They were not assembled to help the threatened armies of the Allies. There was a good deal of military activity throughout the Greek Peninsula. Constantine detested the Allies. His contest with Venizelos deepened that hatred by making Allied or German sympathies a party question. The vulnerability of Greece from the sea kept him, at an earlier stage, from joining Ferdinand, whose dominions were immune from naval attack. A certain clash of ulterior ambitions about Thrace and Constantinople might also have had a deterrent effect. These considerations restrained any impulse he might feel to allow animosity to ferment into risky action. But if the risk were reduced to a minimum by a smashing attack from the north and the infliction on the Allies at Salonika of another Dardanelles disaster, then Constantine would welcome his friends and in all probability join their victorious forces. In Athens and the Peloponnesus he had a powerful following, and there hostility soon reached the point of explosion. It spread up to Athens. On December 11th, 1916, there was an attack on British sailors in the Piræus which resulted in several of our marines being killed. The French clamoured, and as General Joffre put it in a message to our War Office, “emphatically insisted” that we should send a couple of divisions immediately to Salonika. Prompt action was essential to dispel this new threat. We obviously could take no risk, for the situation, unless effectively handled, might land the Allies in one of the worst disasters of the whole War.

The War Cabinet felt that the Greek menace must be dealt with firmly and promptly before the Central Powers could disentangle their troops from the struggle with the remnants of the Roumanian Army which were, with the help of a few Russian divisions, still putting up a tenacious resistance in Moldavia, and before the Greek King could mass a sufficient force in the neighbourhood of Larissa to enable him to deliver an effective blow on the Allied left. The French Government and their military advisers were in a state of panic about the Salonika force. They were convinced that the enemy attack was imminent. General Sarrail was all for military action to clear the Greeks out of Thessaly. The French Staff continued to press us for a reinforcement of two divisions without delay. We pointed out that the force already there was many thousands below its strength, because the necessary sea transport was not forthcoming, either here or in France. If ships could be found anywhere and anyhow, let them be used to carry drafts and ammunition to fill up the divisions and equip the batteries. Meanwhile we advised that it would be better to anticipate the Constantine manœuvre by forcing the issue with that potential antagonist before his potential allies were ready. It was therefore decided by the War Cabinet to deliver an ultimatum to him demanding the immediate withdrawal of the whole of the Greek Army in Thessaly to the Peloponnesus. He was given twenty-four hours in which to make up his mind. Had he refused he would have been immediately attacked by land and sea. The threat answered the purpose. He promised compliance. At first there was a suspicious tardiness in his redemption of the promise. But a blockade by the British Fleet convinced him that his only security lay in speeding up the retirement of his Thessaly force. A portion of our anxiety about the situation at Salonika was thus relieved. It was, however, still felt that the strength of our forces there was insufficient and the positions they held were too weak to enable them to resist a serious attack from the victorious forces of the Central Powers in the Balkan Peninsula.

Consequently we proposed that the Italians, who had a shorter sea route, should send a couple of divisions across the Adriatic to Santi Quaranta, and that they should immediately take in hand the improvement of the communications between that port and Monastir. I record our negotiations on this issue in my account of the Rome Conference. If the Italians could not see their way to spare troops for the purpose, we suggested that arrangements should be made, in the event of a formidable attack by the enemy, for a retirement of the Allied Armies to prepared entrenchments in front of Salonika. Meanwhile we took steps to send drafts to restore to full strength units which had been thinned by sporadic fighting and by disease. The French contingent was short of establishment and we pressed General Joffre to fill up the depleted ranks of his army. For the time being the idea of an offensive from Salonika had to be abandoned. When the Roumanian Army of hundreds of thousands was in being and engaging corresponding enemy forces, a move from Salonika might have been feasible with moderate forces, especially if an earnest endeavour had been made to improve road, rail and dock facilities. But even if steps were taken now to assemble a much more formidable striking force at Salonika, it was too late to begin with any hope of accomplishing great results. During the weeks that had elapsed since Chantilly, the Roumanian Army had become negligible as an offensive force and had been reduced to a condition where a few enemy divisions could have held it in check. The British and French Staffs had not yet given a thought to the essential reconstruction of transport at Salonika except on a strictly limited scale. No survey had been made of what was required in rails and locomotives to improve communications to and behind the lines. Consequently no orders had been received for supplying any of these necessaries. Even then success would depend upon the pressure Russia could bring to bear from the north. Until the projected conference at Petrograd took place we knew little of her offensive capacity.

The condition of the Salonika Expeditionary Force several weeks after the great Chantilly project of a Balkan offensive is another indication of the complete lack of unity and energy in the military direction. Joint action on the part of all the Allies was necessary, but was not palatable to the General Staff. A resolution carried at the Allied Conference at Paris approving such a plan was treated as if it were the actual carrying out of the scheme. To that end an old legal maxim was incorporated as a principle of strategy. “Things that ought to be done or are agreed to be done must be taken as done.” That probably accounts for the complete neglect by the military Staffs of some of the essential requirements of the Salonika Army. It drove poor Sarrail to his famous mot, “Napoleon was not a great general. He only fought a Coalition.”

Whilst Joffre was engaged in fighting a rearguard action in Paris against the politicians who sought his life, and whilst Robertson was chuckling at the skilful way in which the British politicians had once more been jockeyed over the Balkans, the Germans, Austrians, Bulgarians and Turks were tearing up the Roumanian Army and pillaging and distributing Roumanian corn. Briand was too busy trying to save the last miserable rags of Joffre’s authority to think of the War. The Asquith Government was no more, and the new Government had not had long to study the gigantic problems on sea and land which had been bequeathed to them. What about the military position on other fronts? We were committed by the Chantilly Conference to offensive operations in 1917 on a great scale on the French, Italian and Salonika Fronts. Russia had promised to coöperate by an attack on the Eastern Front. The cutting off of Roumania put the Salonika offensive out of the question. It was now assumed that we were doomed in that quarter to a precarious defensive—certainly until Russia succeeded in restoring the military position in Roumania. That was far beyond her strength to achieve.

But how about the campaign projected for the French and Italian war areas? Were the Chantilly plans still in force there? By these schemes another Somme offensive on a wider front was contemplated in France; in Italy there was to be the same old attack on Istria or the Trentino—on both fronts we were doomed to a repetition of the identical denting and chipping tactics to which we were accustomed, with each Ally acting independently on its own front. The only pretence of coöperation was to be found in an effort to time a simultaneous start of the useless slaughter of brave men on each front of each Allied country making its contribution to the holocaust. The campaigns of 1917 were to be another exhibition of platitudes in action, planned by minds too unimaginative or too tired to think of any variation or flourish.

It was late in the day to effect a complete change in the plan of campaign for 1917. That ought to have been done at the Paris Conference in November. If a charge of breach of faith was to be avoided (and such a charge, if believed, is fatal to an alliance), nothing could be done without obtaining the assent of the leaders of the four great Allied Armies. This was a hopeless prospect, for the Chantilly plans were their own and they naturally thought them the best. No change could be made without further consultation. How was effective consultation possible at this late hour? Any fundamental alteration of plans involved an admission of error on the part of these great warriors. Pressure from statesmen might force a thorough reconsideration. But was that pressure likely? Not from what I knew of the leading Ministers of France, Italy and Russia. The French Premier was easy-going and indolent—devoid of initiative. If his genius discerned the right road, his temperament led him to acquiesce in the smoothest. The Italian Premier was an honest man of mediocre gifts. His most powerful colleague—Sonnino—was a strong man but his strength lay entirely in the region of diplomacy. He had no aptitude for conducting a war. He had no special interest in the fighting branch of the business. As to Russia, it was presided over by a weak autocrat, who was ruled by a temperamental and superstitious wife, and internal troubles were surging round both.

In spite of unpropitious conditions, I decided to make a much belated effort to save the Alliance from a repetition of the barren and bloody tragedies of 1915 and 1916. As I am bound, in an honest account of the events in which I took part, to tell the story faithfully, whether it ended in success or in failure, I propose now to relate the fruitless efforts I made to avert the horrors of the Chemin des Dames, Passchendaele, and Caporetto—also my last despairing attempt to postpone, if not save, the collapse of Russia.

2. Conditions of a Successful Offensive

The only conditions under which a great offensive operation could hope to succeed had been written in scarlet letters by the events of the War. It needed no special training or intelligence to read the warnings of past disaster.

The first condition was that the morale of the defending troops should have deteriorated, either because it had been undermined by constant defeat or because for one reason or another its ardour was no longer equal to the continued strain upon its courage. This point is put with great force by Falkenhayn in discussing this very problem in reference to the German attacks on the Russian Front:

Generals on both sides accepted this axiom, but they hardly ever gave it an honest application. When they were anxious to launch an offensive in a particular sector, they always attached undue importance to reports of deterioration in the morale of the enemy on that front. A mass of conflicting gossip and rumours came to the Intelligence Branch from every quarter, often from prisoners trying to deceive or anxious to please. When it was sifted and weighed, human nature being what it is, a bias developed in the direction of the reports that supported the thesis known to have been already formed by the High Command. The subordinate who declines to sacrifice judgment to a mistaken conception of loyalty is rarely acceptable except to the really great. Haig, Robertson and Nivelle all alike professed a conviction that the morale of the German Army had been shaken to such a degree by the raging fires of the Somme that its troops would no longer have the nerve to sustain a similar experience. There was a flood of secret information to that effect, coming mostly from terrified prisoners whose own nerves were temporarily shaken by experiences from which they had only just been rescued by captivity. The effect upon the spirit of the French troops of the repeated failures with numerous losses during 1915 and 1916 was never discussed as an element in the computation of chances. It was assumed that the Allied soldiers were infrangible steel and enemy soldiers ordinary flesh. And yet, in the event, French morale broke first. The two great offensives of 1917 were decided upon what turned out to be an entirely false estimate of the fighting quality of our greatest foe and of the limits of endurance of the Allied troops.

On other fronts, however, there was a distinct falling off in the spirit of the forces that opposed the Allied Armies in the case of two of the belligerents. Speaking of the Turkish Army at the end of 1916, Ludendorff says:

It is one of the most serious condemnations of our war direction that we allowed such an army not merely to hold up superior numbers of our troops, but to inflict two serious defeats on them. There can be no doubt that a resolute and well-managed attack on the Turk in 1915 and certainly in 1916 would have crumpled him up and released the considerable forces locked in Egypt and Mesopotamia for a resolute attack on the Balkan Front. The saving in shipping alone would have made a substantial contribution to our resources. A Turkish overthrow in 1916 might have produced decisive results. In 1917 the consequence of such a victory, standing alone, would not have been as far-reaching, unless followed by a defeat of the Bulgarian Army.

But when you come to consider a concentrated attack on Austria-Hungary as a possible objective of the 1917 campaign, the prospect of a triumph which would have a determining effect on the fate of the struggle was more promising. The German High Command at this date divided the Austrian troops into “reliable” and “unreliable”, the latter being by far the more numerous. In the Brussiloff offensive of 1916, the Austrian Army put up no serious fight. Whole divisions surrendered without striking a blow. The “prisoners” alone numbered over three hundred thousand. Hindenburg said it was not a surrender, but a betrayal. The heart of the Slavs and Roumanians who constituted the majority of the Austrian conscripts was not in the struggle. Nor were the Magyars as keen as the Austro-Germans. It is true that the Slavonic regiments preferred fighting Italians to Russians, but they were not specially concerned in the quarrel with either. The Magyar had some reason to dislike the Russian—none to excite his antagonism towards the Italians. There were no memories to inspire their hostility comparable to the secular hatreds of Gaul and Teuton that came to a climax in the implacable ferocity of the Verdun battlefield.

The food situation in Austria was also bad. The Hungarian harvest had failed and there was real starvation in considerable areas of the Austrian Empire. One of our secret agents from Spain, a country which was in close touch throughout the War with Vienna, and especially with the clerical interests in that country, reported that “the Austrians themselves are full of astonishment at the Allies not undertaking a proper offensive against them, as Austria’s collapse would then be inevitable.” From the same sources our Intelligence Bureau learnt that there was in Austria “great depression and eagerness for peace, even in the highest military circles.”

Austria made war to punish Serbia for a crime in which every Austrian and Magyar believed Serbian statesmen were implicated. Serbia had now been trampled down and every square yard of Serbian territory was in Austrian or Bulgarian occupation. There was thus nothing left for which it was worth the while of an Austrian peasant or workman running the risk of being shot to pieces on the battlefield, or of leaving his wife and children to die of starvation at home. The War objective had been achieved as far as Austria was concerned, and with it went the War spirit. That is why a determined attack on an imperfectly trained army raised from such unpromising material and crowded with “unreliables”, had a better chance of success than an offensive against perfectly organised defensive positions, held by the most efficient army in the field—in training, equipment and leadership—and with a morale which, if not unabated, was equal to the best in any other army on any battlefield.

It is said that up to that date the Italian Army had made no extensive progress in its repeated assaults on the Austrian Army. The Italians had in fact advanced much further than we had at Loos or on the Somme, or the French at Artois, Champagne, and the Somme on much more favourable ground. They had lost fewer men, they had made greater progress, they had spent far less ammunition than either the French or British Armies, nevertheless the result was just as indecisive as in the French and British offensives. But there was this vital difference, which was an element in any wise consideration of the possibilities of the terrain of the next offensive—the Italian artillery was inferior in every particular to that of their Austrian opponents, especially in heavy guns; and the supply of ammunition was insufficient, even for such guns as they had, to keep up the offensive to the point of decision. Not only was the artillery too light to level trenches hewn into the rocky plateau of the Carso, but it was often not equal to the task of destroying barbed wire defences. There were many critical occasions where “garden pincers” had to be used to make up for deficiencies in artillery preparation. Not even the most reckless and bigoted Western-offensive General would launch an attack on trenches dug in the friable soil of Champagne after a bombardment from artillery so light and so limited in shell supply as that with which the Italian Army had to force its way through defences blasted in the granite of the Julian Alps and the hard porphyry of the Dolomites. Far too little credit is given to the soldiers of the Italian Peninsula for what they achieved with such inadequate mechanical assistance. That they should have accomplished what they did is a proof not only of their own bravery and skill, but of the inferiority in military ardour and discipline of the half-hearted Austrian infantry to the dour and highly trained legionaries of the North German. The Gorizia offensive had to be broken off at the height of its success because the Italian ammunition was exhausted. Many a dominating position stormed by the Alpine troops of Italy had to be abandoned because the supporting artillery could not silence the long-range guns of Austria by counter battery work. The Austrian victory of May, 1916, was won because the Austrians concentrated on the Italian line an overpowering fire from a mass of heavy guns which the Italian artillery could not match. It was said at the time that the Italian troops were “unaccustomed” to such fire, and therefore broke. It would be equally correct to say that the Austrians on the whole maintained their defence of the frontier, with forces conspicuously inferior in numbers, because they were not submitted to the shattering bombardments which effaced the German defences on the Somme, and the French forts and trenches at Verdun, and left the respective garrisons without cover on those scarified plateaux.

The Italian Army in 1916 strengthened its heavy artillery considerably by the withdrawal of siege guns from their coast and inland fortifications. But many of the patterns were obsolete. The range and mechanism were not equal to the perfect weapons turned out by Skoda, and such as they were, there was not enough ammunition to keep up a prolonged bombardment of successive positions. The Austrians therefore always experienced a sense of mechanical superiority which sustained their morale. But supposing the position were reversed, and the advantage in artillery were transferred to the Italians, would the unwilling soldiers of the ramshackle empire follow the example of the Germans, French and British on the Western Front and lie for hours and days in muddy shell holes to defend their battered defences? I felt confident they would not. Their devotion to the Austrian Empire was not equal to that display of sustained heroism. The pluck of the Croatian and the Czech had been proved in the wars of many centuries, but their heart was not in this conflict, and it is the heart that gives constancy as well as ardour to courage.

Had the Austrians been beaten on the Italian Front it would have been imperative for them to withdraw several divisions and batteries from their Eastern Front. The Germans would therefore have to extend and thus weaken their lines on the same front. That would have eased the position for the hard-pressed Russians and Roumanians and would have given them time to reform and recover their fighting strength. In the alternative the Germans would have withdrawn divisions from France and made a break-through on that front a more feasible operation.

It is true that the disastrous offensives of the Chemin des Dames and Passchendaele could not have been undertaken, had we moved guns and troops to Italy. The Generals would have been compelled to make that sacrifice to common sense. In what respect would we have been worse off if those sanguinary repulses had been avoided? They cost the Allies well over three quarters of a million men, an overstrained mettle, shaken nerves and a shattered morale for the survivors. Had the Germans, instead of helping Austria, elected to take advantage of our depleted strength in the West to attack our entrenchments there, they would have been resisted by forces which would still have been superior to their own. All they would have gained by their attack would have been a repetition of Verdun whilst Austria was being abandoned to utter defeat. When the Germans in the summer of 1917, as soon as they heard of the mutinies in the French Army, attacked lines held by troops weakened, depressed and disaffected by their terrible losses, they were beaten off. If the French Army had been depleted by one hundred fifty thousand efficients sent to Italy, why should it be assumed that the German assault would then have succeeded when it failed after the French numbers had been reduced by two hundred thousand casualties and the morale of the French Army had been shaken to its foundations? The Allied Staffs always seemed to me to argue with the incoherence and inconsequence with which children reason. What matters with them is the thing they want. Facts, figures, impossibilities are irrelevant things to be used either way and every way, according to their desires.

If the Austrians were to be attacked by the Allied forces, the Germans would rush to their aid from the West with men and guns, and they could always send more help than we could. That was one argument. The other was that if the Austrians were subjected to a combined attack, the Germans would take advantage of the temporary improvement in relative strength to break through our reduced garrison in France. Both could not be true. But to the military mind these arguments were not an alternative—they were cumulative. To quote a very pertinent comment from the British Official History of the Macedonian Campaign:

3. Surprise

There was another consideration which in my opinion had not been sufficiently taken into account hitherto—a factor which even in the war of earthworks played a great part several times; this was the element of surprise. It is safe to say that no striking success had hitherto been won except where the victor had managed to surprise the opposite army by an unexpected stroke or a stroke of unexpected strength. It was true up to the very end of the War.

None of the battles of the Great War was decisive in the sense of ending the struggle immediately one way or the other. But many of them were climacteric in their influence on the progress of the campaign, and could be reckoned as turning points, temporary or permanent, in the course of the War. They effected a domination by one contestant over the other in some particular theatre or part of the line; a definite gain of territory, considerable in proportion to the effort put forward and losses incurred; often a break-through and temporary disintegration of hostile defences and forces. While the battles on the Western Front—after the first few weeks of open warfare—had the character of a grim wrestle between forces that moved slowly back or forward and remained substantially intact and invincible, the great battles fought in the Eastern and Southeastern areas of the struggle ended in one side or the other being thrown into confusion and driven back for leagues in headlong rout.

It is interesting to note the extent to which the element of surprise played a determining part in these critical engagements.

After the Marne, and when the badger tactics on both sides had been inaugurated and established, it was assumed that there would be no room for surprises on a great scale. The forces and resources of the respective combatants at any and every given point and given time were known to their adversaries. Modern methods of observation and elucidation, aerial reconnaissance, trench raids, cross-examination of prisoners, highly developed systems of espionage, supplemented the other means of acquiring information as to the movements of each army. There seemed therefore to be no opportunity left for either side to carry out any strategical designs of which the other would be unaware, and against which it would not have timely notice to prepare itself up to the limit of its military resources.

But although the unsuspected blow was difficult to achieve in the Great War, it was attainable. Both sides were able to spring surprises on each other, in regard to time and place of their attacks, the disposition of their forces, and the weapons they employed. And it is noteworthy that the crucially successful operations of the War were mainly those where one side was not expecting an attack, or at least was unprepared for the enemy’s offensive in the matter of its time, its place, or the weapons or weight of troops used. Where each side was fully alive to what the other might be expected to do, and had made such preparation as it could to meet attack, the general result was an indecisive and sanguinary struggle, with no appreciable gain or loss of territory, and no dramatic collapse of the defending troops.

There were many such bloody battles, yielding indeterminate gains. On the other hand, the most striking movements and notable victories were secured with the aid of at least some determining element of surprise.

It is quite impossible to conceal from the enemy every movement on a great scale, but a resourceful General can at any rate organise his activities behind the lines in such a way as to confuse even an intelligent enemy. If he has any knowledge of the mentality of the opposing General—and no man ought to be allowed to lead who does not possess supreme psychological gifts—his task is an easy one. When Joffre, Nivelle and Haig commanded on the Western Front, it needed no special genius to discern the trend of their one-way minds. They were each persuaded at all times that the enemy could not spare a battalion out of the army that was defending its lines against their well-directed and sustained attacks. Thus Serbia, Roumania and Caporetto came to them as a surprise. The Germans were able to withdraw several divisions from France for those attacks, when Joffre and Haig were convinced that the offensive they were then prosecuting had reduced the German Army to a gasping exhaustion. You could have safely depended upon their paying no heed to rumours that would, if true, oblige them to weaken their own forces and thus imperil the chance of winning the dazzling triumph that they felt convinced would soon crown their strategy in the West.

A surprise may therefore be due to the refusal to accept unpalatable warnings—that is, warnings which do not fit into the plans of Headquarters. The classic examples of that are Joffre’s conduct at the beginning of the War and subsequently at Verdun; Kitchener’s, Robertson’s, and Joffre’s indifference to the reports of Austro-German and Bulgarian attacks in Serbia in 1915; the assumption by Haig that the Germans were so shattered by Passchendaele that they could not spare a division for the Italian Front; and the refusal of Pétain and Haig in 1918 to pay any attention to the many indications of an attack in front of Amiens. On none of these occasions did it suit these great Commanders to believe in warnings which were subsequently authenticated.

Let us examine two or three of these illustrations of my thesis.

(a) The German Advance through Belgium in August, 1914.

Perhaps the most surprising feature of this was the fact that it took the French by surprise at all. But Joffre was taken unawares by the wide northern sweep of encirclement through Belgium which the Germans carried out, and by the number of troops which they concentrated upon the Western Front for the opening move of the War. The result was that they were able to make their advance almost unchallenged, save by the archaic fortifications of Liége and Namur, which their heavy field artillery—another unexpected blow for the Allies—soon reduced. The army under Von Kluck swept through Belgium along a line further north than Joffre had anticipated, and was scarcely checked at all, overwhelming the resistance of the small British force. It swung down to Paris, and very nearly brought to success the German purpose of capturing Paris, sedanising the French Army, and knocking France out of the War.

Thus to the striking advance of the Germans several factors of surprise contributed:

(b) The Battle of the Marne.

The First Battle of the Marne—second to none in the War for its decisive importance in the course of the world conflict—was in the main a battle of manœuvre and strategy of mobile armies, depending for its issue on the element of surprise. Who was responsible for the Battle of the Marne? When the victor of the Marne is called up for judgment and recompense, there will be the same multitudinous response as Byron predicted when it is the turn of Junius to be summoned to the Bar:

But whoever he was or they were, commentators seem agreed on the factors which determined the issue at the Marne:

(c) The Dardanelles.

This might have been an unexpected coup. Had we landed troops simultaneously with the naval bombardment, we know now that the Turks would have been taken completely by surprise, and that we could have occupied the Gallipoli Peninsula with hardly any loss. But we made a pyrotechnic and tympanic effort to warn and wake up the enemy and gave him plenty of time to make ready. The result was that we failed to gain Gallipoli.

(d) Brussiloff’s Offensive.

The offensive carried out by Brussiloff against the Austrians at the beginning of June, 1916, was the most successful battle fought by the Russians throughout the War. It came a month before it was expected. Brussiloff began preparations at over twenty places at once, so that even deserters should not give away the real front of attack. And instead of concentrating his reserves “obviously”, he distributed them widely. The absence of any obvious concentration was the real secret of his astonishing success. The Austrians were unprepared at that time to meet the impact. Between June and August, the Russians captured more than 350,000 prisoners, nearly 400 guns, 1,300 machine guns and a tract of ground 200 miles long and in parts nearly 60 miles deep. Had the Russians had the mechanical means to exploit their victory this unforeseen move might have decided the War.

(e) The Mackensen attack at Gorlice, which rolled up the Russian Armies in 1915, and the overthrow of Serbia in the same year, provide illustrations of the surprises which were due to the refusal of Generals to take heed of intelligence inconsistent with their cherished plans. The Russians had information which ought to have warned them that there was a formidable offensive contemplated by the Germans in the direction of Gorlice. But the Russian High Command had other ideas and other plans, and the information which came to them as to the probable Mackensen offensive was therefore disregarded. Hence although forewarned, the attack had the effect of surprise. The same observation applies to the attack on Serbia.

(f) The combined Austro-German-Bulgarian invasion of Serbia in October, 1915, was a strategical surprise in the sense at least that the Allies allowed themselves to be taken unawares and unprepared. It ought to have been foreseen. Ample warning had been given of the Austro-German plans and of the fact that Bulgaria meant to throw in her lot with them. But the attention of the Western Generals was so focussed on their own great blow in France that they turned their faces away from that impending danger in the East. When it came it had therefore to them all the effect of a surprise.

(g) To a certain extent the Battle of Verdun presents another example of this type of surprise. The initial stage of the attack on the Verdun forts was not expected by the French Headquarters, not because they had not been forewarned of German preparations but because it did not suit their plans to believe them. The attack was therefore a great success. When it was pressed on from week to week it ceased to be a surprise and achieved nothing for the assailants.

(h) The Battle of the Somme.

The main Battle of the Somme was a perfect illustration of a prolonged effort to inform the enemy beforehand and in time of our intentions. The roads were crowded for weeks with columns of marching troops; with heavy guns drawn by caterpillars and huge lorries; the sky was throbbing with observing aeroplanes; large numbers of captive balloons floated in the air along the exact line of attack. It was all like an old Chancery suit, where the most detailed pleadings informed the defendant to the minutest particular of every point that would have to be met and fought out. It conduced to protracted and costly litigation which deferred final decision until both sides were utterly ruined. Our great Generals would have made excellent special pleaders in the days of Jarndyce v. Jarndyce. This kind of procedure suited the man in possession. In this case the man in possession of the disputed ground was the German. These elaborate preliminary warnings therefore suited him.

The British attack was supported with colossal artillery preparation—the heaviest that had ever been launched—and it was carried out by the finest flower of our volunteer army. But it was in no way a surprise attack. The enemy were well posted as to how, when, and where the attack was coming. Forewarned, they were forearmed. The result was that such gains as we achieved at the price of ghastly casualty lists during the opening days of the conflict were quite insignificant.

But there was one surprise feature about the opening round of the Somme battle. The French attacked to the south of the British Front with five divisions. The Germans were expecting the British, but not the French attack, and in consequence the French advanced with lightning speed, pushed the line forward five miles on the first day, and within five days could report nine thousand prisoners and sixty guns captured for less than eight thousand total French casualties.

(i) The Defeat of Roumania.

The swift destruction of Roumania in September-October, 1916, must count as one of the most successful campaigns of the War. Among the chief determining factors in the German victory were these:

These events prove that trench warfare and aerial observation do not preclude the element of surprise. The question that ought to have been considered by the Allied Military Staffs was whether there existed anywhere at any point of the compass the possibility of bringing off such crashing surprises as those engineered by the Germans? Clearly the enemy were expecting a resumption of the offensive on the Western Front in 1917, for they were making the most elaborate preparations to meet and defeat it. That accounted for the abandonment of the Somme Plateau in March and the retirement to a new and shorter line of defence, which had been carefully prepared. The withdrawal of the line was as a matter of fact a most effective surprise to the Allies. It threw our plans out of gear, and the Germans were enabled to save whole divisions from the trenches and thus accumulate masses of men behind the lines to fill up gaps and build up a reserve for counter-attack. It is inconceivable that these enormous operations should have been made without the knowledge of the French and British Intelligence Departments. Aeroplanes crossed and recrossed over and far beyond the German lines, and if they did observe and report the arrangements which were in process for weeks running into months to construct a new and massive line of entrenchments, the Staff do not seem to have attached any importance to the information. There does not seem to have been any aerial observation of the withdrawal of men, guns, munitions and stores that went on for days. The Intelligence Staffs who worked out plans for set offensives in the Allied Headquarters had been taught to believe that no surprises on a great scale were possible on either side in the stabilised West. They had never been able to stage one that misled the Germans. Why then should the Germans be able to deceive them? This was one of the axioms of Allied strategy fermenting under a brass hat. To doubt, if you were a civilian, was to be an amateur; if a soldier, then a crank only safe to fight in trenches, where to think was a breach of discipline. Surprise was therefore ruled out on the Western Front.

Why not attempt a surprise on the Italian Front? We were assured that nothing of that nature was possible there. The Austrians knew an offensive was coming. They probably did, but they were expecting the same old kind of offensive: a preliminary bombardment in a difficult country of granite trenches by an utterly inadequate artillery, insufficiently supplied with ammunition. Our Staffs knew that nothing could come of such an attack, except the loss by the enemy of a few kilometres which could be easily recovered by a well-timed and well-gunned counter-attack. Such a conventional offensive had its uses in the general scheme of things as ordered at Chantilly: it kept a number of Austrian guns in the Trentino or on the Isonzo so that they should not wander to the Carpathians, or so that the Austrians should not be able to lend their giant guns to the Germans in France. It never occurred to the rigid minds of the two G.H.Q.’s that a kind of attack was possible on the Italian Front which would have taken the Austrians completely unawares and achieved a real break-through and not impossibly a break-up, before the Germans could come in sufficient numbers to the succour of their routed allies. It is fair to point out here that Pétain, Franchet d’Espèrey and Micheler suggested a combined offensive in Italy on these lines in April, as an alternative to the attack on the Chemin des Dames. Had this advice been pressed to the point of acceptance and action, Caporetto might have been anticipated and reversed. The Italians had a definite numerical superiority over the Austrians. Had they been equipped with a corresponding superiority in heavy guns and ammunition, the Austrians might have been overwhelmed. They certainly would have been taken completely by surprise. Their soldiers had no experience on any front of that kind of bombardment and it would have completely unnerved them for some time. It would have taken weeks to steady and rally them. If the Italian advance, measured by kilometres, had been comparable to that of the Austrians in their unexpected attack in May, 1916, or to the German break-through at Amiens in March, 1918, or in June, 1918, at Château-Thierry, the Istrian Peninsula would have been captured and Pola with its troublesome submarine base would have been cut off. Had it been as great a success as Caporetto was for the Central Powers, the Italians would have reached Laibach and penetrated beyond to the coal basin of Carniola. Why could it not have been done? The Austrians were not better men than the British who fought in front of Amiens, or the French who were driven back to the Marne in 1918.

These were the considerations that led me, on becoming Prime Minister, to make a fresh effort to dissuade the French Government from the contemplated offensive in France and to induce them to join the Italians in launching a great combined attack on the Austrians. If the proposal met with approval at the Rome Conference, then a simultaneous attack on the eastern frontier of Austria could be arranged at the Petrograd Conference. I felt assured that the French and British Military Staffs would be obdurate. Better death (for other soldiers) on the Western Front than victory (for other Generals) on any other flank. The only hope was in the conversion of the French and Italian Governments to the scheme and in an insistence by the three Governments on its adoption by the High Commands. I knew that the Generals would regard the notion as another piece of amateur impertinence. Nevertheless, as I have already indicated, three great French Generals were converted in April to this strategic idea emanating from amateur brains.

When the Anglo-French Conference met in London on December 26th, 1916, to discuss the terms of the Allied reply to the German and Wilson Peace Notes, I proposed to it that representatives of the Governments and of the High Military Commands of Britain, France and Italy should meet together in conference at an early date, in order to have a frank discussion on the whole military and political situation.

There were immediate decisions of great urgency to be taken as to the Balkans, and to suit the convenience of General Sarrail, the Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Forces at Salonika, General Milne, the British Commander, and also the Generals in command of the Serbian and Venezelist forces, whose presence at the discussion of the Greek position was desired, it was ultimately arranged that the Conference should be held in Rome.

LT.-COLONEL SIR MAURICE HANKEY, G.C.B.

Secretary, Imperial War Cabinet, 1917

The Rome Conference met on the 5th, 6th and 7th of January, 1917. I took with me Lord Milner, Sir William Robertson and Sir Maurice Hankey. The French Premier, M. Briand, was accompanied by MM. Albert Thomas and Berthelot, and General Lyautey, the new French War Minister. The principal Italian Ministers were present in full force with the Commander-in-Chief, General Cadorna. General Sarrail and Lieutenant-General Milne, who commanded our Army in the Balkans, crossed over from Salonika. Sir Francis Elliott and Colonel Fairholme, the Military Attaché, came from Athens.

In order to define the aims, and, in so far as I could, direct the discussions of the Conference, I had prepared a memorandum which I circulated to the delegates. It was designed definitely to raise the important issues as to Allied strategy which I have set forth in the preceding chapter, and if possible to obtain decisions which would release us from the fatal net in which we were enmeshed by the Chantilly plans.

The chapter on shipping reveals the precarious position we were in at that time. Our measures to deal with the situation had been barely launched. But it is necessary to point out that these difficulties with regard to the supply of shipping had not arisen in an acute form in 1915. Therefore we could then have despatched to Salonika, and maintained there a sufficient force to prevent the Serbian defeat and the over-running of the Balkan Peninsula by the Central Powers.

The next five paragraphs of my memorandum, numbered 18 to 22, urged that Italy should send additional reinforcements to Salonika, and in this connection advocated the development of a route from Santi Quaranta on the Adriatic, straight through to Monastir, and the improvement of railway communications down through Italy, so that supplies and reinforcements could be sent to Salonika overland, save for the short crossing of the Adriatic. Shipping would thus be economised, and the submarine menace to the Salonika communications immensely reduced.

Copies of this document were distributed amongst the civilian, military and naval members of the various delegations before the Conference met. It will be noted that this paper forecast accurately the action subsequently taken by the Central Powers, the launching by them of a joint offensive against Italy as soon as they had disposed of Russia. My memorandum urged the Allies to take timely measures to counter the blow when it fell.

After a preliminary meeting, the Conference split up into two sections, Political and Military. The first pre-occupation of both sections was with the situation at Salonika. The military conference on this subject ended in a complete deadlock, for the French military delegates, supported by representatives of Russia, insisted that Britain and Italy should furnish three more divisions for the Salonika Army, without any clear idea in their minds as to the purpose they were intended to serve. For defence they were superfluous; for attack they would be insufficient. The British and Italians were emphatic that they could not do this, and that the few ships available should be utilised to fill up the undoubted weakness of the units already on the spot. If an overwhelming attack came from the North, of which they were doubtful, the forces there should be prepared to withdraw to a shorter line.

General Sarrail’s acutest anxiety was about the safety of his left flank in the event of enemy attacks on his front. On December 1st, 1916, parties of Allied troops had been landed in Athens to enforce the fulfilment by the Greek King of Allied demands, and had been attacked by his troops. There was a real danger that any frontal attack by the enemy on the Salonika forces would be the signal for an outbreak of hostilities by the Greek Royalist troops in their rear, which would make their position one of acute jeopardy.

In view of this situation, General Sarrail came to me on the third morning of the conference for a personal interview.

He was one of those rare personalities of whom no one can form a moderate opinion. To his partisans he was a brilliant general; to his critics he was a bounding charlatan. Joffre said there was nothing he had done in the fight in France that would justify the view that he was an able general. Another distinguished Frenchman that I met said that Sarrail’s fight against the Germans in the Nancy area was one of the finest feats of the War. Of one thing I felt certain—the official military clique here and in France “had a down” on him. He was to them a political general, which simply meant that leading politicians believed in him. Better be “a friend of publicans and sinners” than of politicians. To French Headquarters he was therefore a more dangerous foe than Von Kluck. A general who is not in favour with Headquarters has a poorer chance than a politician who is not acceptable to the Party Whips. The obnoxious politician can appeal to the public and thus make himself such a menace that it is safer to conciliate than to crush him; but for a soldier to appeal to any lay tribunal against either the strategy or the competency of his superiors is in itself an offence against professional canons which stamps him as an outsider.

Before I met Sarrail in Rome I had taken my opinions concerning him from official sources, qualified by the eulogies passed upon him by M. Albert Thomas and M. Painlevé. I knew Thomas to be a shrewd judge of men as well as of affairs, and I was therefore quite prepared to find that Sarrail was not the flashy adventurer who subordinated tactics to politics. But I was not quite prepared for the attractive and magnetic personality to whom I was introduced at the Rome Conference.

He was an exceptionally handsome man, with a high forehead, a glittering blue eye, a genial accost and a direct, intelligent and quiet manner of answering all the questions put to him about Salonika.

He demanded a free hand to anticipate the Greek move by an invasion of Greece and an attack on the Royal Army. To this I refused British assent. I was not prepared to allow action which might result in an outbreak of hostilities with the Greek population, which was, on the whole, friendly to the Allies. The affair would, to the outside world, have an unpleasant resemblance to the conduct of the Germans in Belgium. But we were justified in adopting every measure necessary to protect our troops against the danger of sudden attack on their most vulnerable flanks. After the events of December 1st, we therefore had imposed a severe blockade on Greece, which we were maintaining until we should be satisfied that the King had taken the necessary steps to clear up the position.

I did my best to reassure General Sarrail, and obtained his promise that he would take no action without first communicating with me. It seemed fairly certain that the pressure of our blockade would compel the Greek Government to carry out our terms, even if rather slowly and unwillingly.

I saw a good deal of Sarrail at this Conference. He made no complaint about his superiors, although he might have done so, for no General in the War was accorded meaner treatment. He was landed in an enterprise which could barely have succeeded when he took over the command if there had been abundant resources at his disposal. He was left without a competent Staff, and with a wretched equipment whether for fighting or for transport. His troops were far from being a good specimen of an average French Army. Even thus they were far below strength. He was expected to attack almost inaccessible defiles well entrenched, with a wretched quota of heavy guns and little ammunition. His British Allies were kept in the same condition of inadequacy and unpreparedness for any effective contribution. I was surprised under these conditions that he seemed to preserve his geniality and good temper. But he certainly did. He was completely devoid of any bitterness and he never made a single complaint to me of the shabby treatment accorded to him and to his Army. It is on record that the favourable impression he made upon me was shared by all those who took part in the Rome Conference.

If he did not accomplish anything for two years, it was because it was not intended that he should, and the military junta who managed these things both in France and in England saw to it that every temptation to accomplishment should be withheld from this dashing but obnoxious General. The French General Staff, whilst pursuing a deliberate policy of starving the Salonika force, gave the impression to their Government that Sarrail had been provided with the means which would enable him to carry through a decisive attack on the enemy positions in the Balkans. To do Robertson justice, he never sought to mislead his Government on that point.

But upon the question of further reinforcements for Salonika, no agreement was reached. At the conclusion of the second day’s discussion, M. Briand made an impassioned plea for us to send two divisions thither. As a piece of oratory it was the finest exhibition I have ever heard at any Conference. It was delivered in a comparatively small room, at a table around which barely a dozen sat. M. Briand spoke sitting. Voice, gesture, inflection, displayed his oratorical powers at their best, as if he were addressing a crowded Chamber of Deputies. He spoke with dramatic force, and yet we never felt anything incongruous in the method of such a deliverance to so small and intimate a gathering. Rhetorically it was a triumph. As soon as he finished, Baron Sonnino turned round to me and said: “That is the finest speech I ever heard.” But whilst it was a brilliant display of M. Briand’s powers, it was also a revelation of his defects.

There was no attempt to deal with the practical difficulties or to indicate how they were to be overcome. There were two other characteristic touches to follow. We were to dine at the French Embassy that evening. The speech delayed us, and M. Barrère had to postpone the hour of our repast. When M. Briand finished, the tenseness of the face relaxed, the glow in the eye disappeared, and he turned round to us with a smile, and said, “And now for the Embassy!” The following morning Albert Thomas sought to renew the discussion and bring it to some practical point, but his eloquent chief cut him short. He wanted no further debate on the topic. He had come there to deliver a speech and not to obtain a decision. His speech had been delivered; it was a triumph: there was nothing more to be done.

However, I thought it necessary to give practical reasons why we could not comply with the French demand, and I said that “if eloquence would carry two divisions to Salonika, M. Briand’s speech at the conclusion of the previous evening’s Conference would have accomplished the task. Unfortunately, however, ships were needed and these we had not got.” I read a telegram received that morning from the Quartermaster-General of the War Office to the effect that since the previous Thursday the traffic through the Mediterranean had been absolutely closed to our ships, owing to submarines, though it was hoped to resume traffic in a day or two. I had the warmest sympathy with M. Briand’s desire to reinforce our Army in the Balkans, particularly if any prospect should be opened of our using it for an effective thrust against the enemy in that region. But our shipping had now been very seriously reduced by submarine attacks, and was in greater demand than ever for carrying supplies, not only for ourselves but for our Allies. We had at the time no less than 1,200,000 tons of shipping occupied with carrying for the French, and several hundred thousand tons carrying for the Italians. Unless they were prepared to forego the supplies of coal, steel and other commodities which we were shipping for them, we simply could not add to our commitments the task of transporting further forces to Salonika and maintaining them there—certainly not until the submarine crisis had been overcome. We already had more men on that front than either the French or the Italians, and to keep them reinforced with fresh drafts, and provisioned with food, equipment and munitions at the other end of the submarine-infested Mediterranean, was a task of no little difficulty.

Besides, the Salonika Front was still unadapted for large-scale offensive operations. Little had been done to improve the transport facilities up country from the ports. The roads were deplorably bad. I urged the Italians, therefore, at the Conference, to supply companies of engineers and workmen for making an additional road from Santi Quaranta to Monastir and improving the railway lines, so that there might be a line of communication with the Balkans which would run mainly overland, with only a short and easily protected sea trip from Brindisi to Santi Quaranta. But General Cadorna flatly refused to supply engineers and would give no pledge even to find labourers for the work.

And now we come to the discussions and conclusions on the subject which was to me the main purpose of the Conference—the effort to secure a fundamental reconstruction of Allied strategy on all fronts. I had summarised my views in the memorandum distributed before the meeting and I invited a discussion on my proposals. In opening this discussion I drew particular attention to two questions raised in that memorandum. The first of these was the reëquipment of the Russian Armies, and the second, the question of a combined attack on the Italian Front. Referring to the second of these subjects, I said that the Italian Front appeared to offer an admirable opportunity for breaking fresh ground. The Italian Army, though its equipment had proceeded at a wonderful rate, had not yet reached the stage, particularly in the matter of heavy guns, when it could bring an overwhelming artillery fire to bear on the enemy. But on the Italian Front the Allies had to deal with an enemy who was weaker than elsewhere on the Western Front, where the Allies were opposed to Germans. The Austrians had not the same cohesion as the Germans and were less redoubtable as a fighting unit. I suggested also that on this front the Central Powers were more vulnerable than on other fronts. If you were to drive the Germans back twenty or thirty miles on our front, you would find them still pivoting on French villages, which would have to be destroyed one by one to ensure a continuance of the advance. On the Italian Front, however, you could reach the enemy’s vitals. Here the advance would be in enemy territory, and it would be the enemy’s villages that would be destroyed. I laid great stress on the fact that the Austrians were the weakest enemy, and I suggested we ought to strike at the weakest and not at the strongest point in the enemy front. Germany, I pointed out, was formidable so long as she could command an unbroken Austria, but if Austria were beaten Germany would be beaten too. For these reasons I strongly advocated that the question of crushing Austria should be examined. I further pointed out that an incidental advantage would be that an attack on the Italian Front would undoubtedly divert the enemy’s attention from the Balkans. If attacked on the Italian Front the Austrians could not carry out an invasion of the Balkans. Possibly, also, action here might have the effect of stopping the Moldavian attack.

I pointed out that the operations on the Somme did not have the effect of withdrawing troops from the East to the West. On the West the enemy sold dearly the land they held. They said that if you wanted to take, for example, Courcelettes, you must pay ten thousand lives for it; Pozières was more important, and for that the enemy demanded forty thousand lives; Combles was more important still, and for this the price paid was perhaps sixty thousand lives. Though they ceded these points at a price, the enemy never gave up anything vital on the Western Front.

Shipping was one of our difficulties, but this question did not arise in the matter of assistance to be rendered by the Allies for an Italian offensive. We could supply a certain number of trucks for the transport of guns to the Italian Front, and the operation which I proposed on that front was one which could be carried out without any demand upon shipping.

I therefore strongly urged that my proposal should be examined by the General Staffs. I pointed out, however, that this was not enough, and that it would never be carried out unless Ministers themselves took the matter in hand, and insisted on its being considered favourably. It was contrary to human nature for General Sir Douglas Haig to say that General Cadorna’s front was more important than his own; and conversely, you could not expect General Cadorna to say that the British Front was more important than the Italian.

I then read the following resolution:

I explained that the last sentence referred to the question whether General Cadorna would require guns only or infantry divisions as well.

M. Briand pointed out “how great was the organisation needed, under modern conditions, for an offensive. It was, he said, nothing less than a great industrial organisation. He further pointed out that the Staffs of the Allies had recently worked out their plans at Chantilly; and that the preparations for carrying them out were now far advanced. In view of this he questioned whether it would be wise to change the plan now. M. Briand said that General Nivelle reported that the German forces had, to a considerable extent, been used up, and that they were not nearly so thick on the ground as they used to be. Having regard to the ascendency recently shown by French troops, General Nivelle considered it possible to break through. M. Briand therefore urged that in the examination of this question its repercussion on the offensive, which had been so long prepared, should be carefully considered. He therefore expressed sympathy with the proposal, but reserved it for technical examination, and at present he would not attempt to anticipate the opinion of the military experts. He urged, however, the importance of the spring offensive being decisive.”

Continuing, M. Briand said that, “if we could really break through to Trieste, he would be quite in accord, and thought that we ought to undertake the operation. In view, however, of the importance of not unsettling the military plans which were now far advanced, he felt bound to make a reserve in welcoming the proposal.”

I replied that “I did not propose for one moment that my plan should be decided on without the fullest examination. I urged, however, that the Government should not take as final a declaration by General Nivelle, or General Douglas Haig, that they could not spare the guns. Of course, the Generals would not allow the guns to go. I did not deny that the Generals were just as confident now as they had ever been, but I pointed out that they had always been just as confident before previous offensives. The Central Powers, however, did not confine their efforts to one front as each of the Allied Generals did. They attacked in Roumania, or the Balkans, or wherever they could hit hardest at the moment. They might very likely strike before long at the Italian Front if they thought they could do any good there.”

Baron Sonnino said that “the Italian Government felt it was quite possible that the enemy might come to that front in a month or two.”

M. Briand again reverted to the very heavy preparations involved in an attack, under modern conditions.

“There were so many miles of front, so many troops, and so many guns required; all had to be calculated to a nicety, and all kinds of preparations made. He said that, when General Nivelle had commanded the armies in the region of Verdun, he had come to M. Briand and proposed an attack. M. Briand had felt some doubt about the question, owing to the usure. General Nivelle, however, had described exactly how he could conduct the operation, and had stated that he would send telegrams to him at such and such an hour from such and such points, which he had captured. Eventually, M. Briand sanctioned the attack, and General Nivelle carried it out absolutely as he had forecast. This naturally had created a most favourable impression in regard to General Nivelle on M. Briand’s mind, and made him feel some confidence in his plans for the future. At Verdun, M. Briand pointed out, the French actually did break right through the German lines, but the country was a cul de sac and unfavourable to an advance. Nevertheless, they gained invaluable experience. They were inclined to think that an attack, prepared in a certain way, had now a very good chance of succeeding.”

M. Thomas, while not rejecting my proposal, urged “that it must be examined to the bottom (au fond) particularly in regard to the question of dates and the equilibrium of force on the different fronts.”

M. Briand again pressed the contention as to the deterioration in the quality of the German Army. He said: “there was considerable difference between the character of the enemy’s troops now and in the early part of the War. Formerly, all the enemy troops consisted of troupes de choc but now only a portion of the enemy’s forces could be regarded as troupes de choc. Hence, in most parts of the line we should find rather mediocre troops opposed to us. That is how he envisaged the strategical situation of the enemy. He did not dismiss my proposal but only urged that it required careful examination.”

The Russian Ambassador pointed out that it was very important to secure concerted plans. He considered my proposal a very seductive one.

Baron Sonnino said that there were two ways of presenting the problem for examination:

M. Briand said he would be very surprised if General Cadorna had not already had some proposition in view.

I asked that General Cadorna should consider the proposition that evening and give his views to-morrow.

Baron Sonnino suggested, however, that it would be better for General Cadorna to hear my views at once, and urged that he should be summoned to join the Conference.

At this point General Cadorna entered the Conference and Baron Sonnino explained my proposal to him. General Cadorna said that he had had an opportunity of glancing at my memorandum. As a point of detail, he said he did not like the idea of advancing on Pola. To do so would take him away from his main objective, which was Laibach, on the road to Vienna.

I interpolated at this point that I would be quite satisfied if General Cadorna could advance towards Vienna with the reinforcements proposed.

General Cadorna went on to ask “how long the material would be at his disposal? This was really an essential point. He gathered from conversations with Generals Lyautey and Robertson that the material would have to be returned by May. He reminded the Conference that to be useful for offensive operations the material must be back some eight or ten days before the offensive began. Then an allowance had to be made for the time necessary for the transport to and from France. Time also had to be allowed for loading and unloading off the railways. Then there were the different methods of the various nations to be considered in regard to technical matters, such as fire control, the use of metres instead of yards, fire observations, etc.; some time would be required to accustom the British and French artillery to the Italian methods. After you had made allowance for all these things, he asked how much time remained? If he could have the artillery for long enough he would, of course, be delighted.”

General Cadorna then alluded to the danger of an offensive from the Trentino, which, he pointed out, “was very great. So long as the snow was on the mountains the Italians were safe from this menace, but after May he was liable to be attacked from two points.”

I said that “the conditions as to the return of the guns by May might apply to the French guns, but I myself had not, up to the present, excluded the possibility of allowing British guns to remain for a longer time on the Italian Front.”

M. Thomas expressed “considerable surprise at this last remark. He said that I talked as though my resources were unlimited. At one and the same time I talked of sending guns to Russia and to Italy. How could this be done without altering the whole equilibrium of the position on the Western Front?”

I retorted that, “at the present moment, there were on the British Front twice as many heavy guns as there were at the commencement of the Battle of the Somme. We had given no undertaking that we could allot any specified number of guns to the French Front. At this moment we had three times as much ammunition as we had at the beginning of the Somme offensive. Moreover, if we lent two hundred and fifty to three hundred heavy guns to Italy to-day, by the end of February we should, at our present rate of output, have replaced the whole amount. M. Thomas, no doubt, could speak for the French position, but I knew as much as any one about the British position in regard to heavy guns.”

General Cadorna said that “he would be only too delighted to have a larger force at his disposal. He would gladly accept heavy guns, but if they were only to be available for some three months from the present time, it was not worth while for him to accept them.”

I was disgusted with the lack of enthusiasm displayed by Cadorna over the proposal made by one of the most powerful of the Allies to equip him for a sustained attack on the Austrians by supplying him with his deficiencies in heavy guns, and I turned to Sir Maurice Hankey and said, “The old fellow does not want guns.” This provoked a protest from Sonnino, who was utterly bewildered by Cadorna’s reluctance to close with our offer.

I replied that, “of course, General Cadorna would like to have the guns. Every General would like to have more heavy guns. This, however, had not been the motive of my proposal. The question for General Cadorna to consider, and on which the Conference desired his opinion, was, if he were lent the guns, could he carry out a really great, or even decisive, operation on behalf of the Allies?”

General Cadorna replied that “he could undoubtedly carry out a very great operation with further assistance in heavy guns, but the operation would necessarily be a very long one. Referring to my memorandum, he pointed out that a tactical surprise, under modern conditions, was not practicable. The enemy would unquestionably discover that the guns were being brought to that front.”

I said that, “nevertheless, it would be a certain surprise to the enemy to see the Allies coöperating closely in this way. I did not intend that the attack would be a surprise in the tactical sense, but that our initiative would necessarily dislocate the enemy’s plans. I asked what precisely General Cadorna thought that he could accomplish with the guns. I did not ask for an immediate answer, but I wanted to know what he considered he could do.”

General Cadorna stated that undoubtedly he could do a good deal more on a wider front and he undertook to consider the question. He then withdrew from the Conference.

Lord Milner pointed out, “on the question of surprise, that we were always told that we could not surprise the enemy, yet the enemy always surprised us. In support of this he instanced Verdun and the attack on Roumania, both of which were surprises. The fact was that the initiative always rested with the enemy. General Cadorna had intimated that he could do something if given these guns, but the question we wanted to know was—could he undertake a really great and successful operation? It would not be worth while displacing the guns merely to gain five miles of territory instead of three. But it would be worth while to break right through. In any case, our strategic initiative on this front would be bound to disturb the enemy’s plans, even if a tactical surprise were not possible.”

The conclusions finally reached by the Rome Conference were set out in the following eight propositions:

The Appendix, mentioned in the fourth resolution above, contained the French text of the ultimatum to Greece. This document stated that the Allies were determined to protect their armies against the menace created by the presence of the Greek forces in their rear. This could only be done if these forces were, as contemplated in our Note to Greece of December 14th (and in a second Note of December 31st) transported to the Peloponnesus as soon as possible. It was also necessary that the Allies should have full liberty to control the movement. If within forty-eight hours of the receipt of this declaration it was not agreed to by the Greek Government, the Allies would assume full liberty to safeguard their Armies by other means. For their part, the Allies were prepared to respect the wish of the Greek Government to keep out of the War, and would not allow the Venizelist faction to invade or extend control over any of the territory still under the rule of the Royalist Government. We would also raise the blockade as soon as our demands had been satisfactorily carried out.

This ultimatum proved to be efficacious for its purpose.

I may anticipate the sequel to the Rome Conference as far as Salonika was concerned, to say that although the Greek Government showed an obvious desire to evade fulfilment of the terms of the Allied ultimatum, it found itself compelled to proceed with their observance. By the end of January, Brigadier-General Philipps was able to report to us that while the Greek troops would not all be south of the Isthmus by the appointed day, enough would have gone to render the remnant harmless against us; and the position was by then so satisfactory that we were able to sanction a partial relaxation of the blockade.

The Rome Conference came to subsidiary decisions which had in the sequel important results. It temporarily cleared up the Greek situation. Both at Athens and Salonika it saved us from precipitate action which would have damaged the Allied cause. It initiated transport arrangements for the use of Italian railways to carry troops and material from France to Brindisi. These arrangements relieved the pressure on our shipping, and, what is more important, they ultimately enabled French and British troops to rush to the aid of the broken army of Italy after Caporetto without loss of invaluable time.

Perhaps one of the most far-reaching decisions of all was that which resolved to summon an Inter-Allied Naval and Shipping Conference to consider the best methods of coördinating Allied resources at sea. It is incredible that no such conference had ever been held before. In fact, the Allied War Directors never seemed to have realised that the transport question was at the root of most of their difficulties.

The Central Powers had an undoubted advantage over the Allies in the fact that they were operating on internal lines. We had the paramount advantage of the command of the sea. We ought to have realised both these facts with all their implications, and taken immediate steps to neutralise the enemy superiority due to their central position while profiting more by our own superiority on the sea.

But we were now entering on the fourth campaign of the War, and the Allies had decided for the first time to sit down to a thorough examination of one of the most vital problems with which they were confronted. In that respect the Rome discussions were of great practical value.

I was unable, however, to persuade the French to accept even in principle the idea of a combined spring offensive on the Italian Front, and Cadorna’s lukewarmness was fatal to my insistence. In view of the attempt to fasten the whole responsibility for the Nivelle offensive on to me, because of my strenuous effort to make it a success once it was determined upon, I have felt it necessary to quote in full the passages in which early in January I urged the concentration of our offensive gun power on the Italian Front as a substitute for the project of a great spring offensive in France. It will be observed that I failed to persuade our Allies to take that course. The Chantilly plans had been agreed to by all the Allies at the Paris Conference in November. They were in the nature of a military Pact accepted by all the Governments concerned. The consent of all the signatories to the Paris Convention was necessary to secure any important change in its terms. France was implacable, Italy was indifferent. No strategical alteration was therefore possible without a serious conflict between the Allies. Ultimately the Conference agreed to the proposition which I have already quoted as Number 7 of its conclusions. This referred the whole question of a combined offensive on the Italian Front to those military experts who were already committed to the Nivelle plan.

This result was disappointing. When we came to the main purpose for which the Conference had been summoned—a real and not a sham coördination of strategy—the Conference reached no final decision and the Military Staffs were left in possession of the field. There were many reasons for that. The most important I shall examine in a separate chapter. I shall here only allude to one of the chief obstructive elements—the bondage of professional etiquette. The professional deems it a point of honour to stand by his brethren against all outsiders, including the facts. I have very little doubt that this is true of all the Military High Commands. I could see it operate in Rome. Cadorna, I know, favoured a combined offensive on the Italian Front, but he put up no fight for his idea, even when a British Prime Minister offered him an opening and an opportunity. Had he conducted all his military operations in the same perfunctory spirit, he would never have captured a single mound on the Austrian frontier. The reason for his feebleness was that he had been persuaded at Chantilly to accept a different strategy. His better judgment had been overridden by men whose prestige was greater, but he had entered into a definite arrangement with them at the Military Conference, and he was very reluctant to do something which looked like breaking faith with his brother Commanders. He had been seen by Robertson and the French Generals before he entered the Conference, and they had insisted upon his adhering to the letter of his bond, even though it involved the throwing away of the most promising chance afforded to him to win a great triumph for his country. Professional susceptibilities blocked his way. That accounted for his hesitancy, his raising of objections and obstacles. To justify him in refusing the powerful aid offered by me to his army, Robertson and Lyautey had told him that the guns were a temporary loan and would have to be returned to the French Government in May. After my statement at the Conference withdrawing this condition, this could no longer be pleaded as an excuse for declining the offer. When I told Cadorna that the British guns at least would not be withdrawn, he ignored my statement. If Cadorna had started a successful offensive in March or April, no French or British General could or would have insisted on the withdrawal of a single gun.

What contributed much more to the failure of my effort to induce a reconsideration of Allied strategy was the fact that the French Ministers—M. Briand and M. Albert Thomas—gave resolute support to their Military Staffs. Their action was incalculable to those who knew their previous attitude. They both were and always had been zealous advocates of the “way round.” They never believed in the policy of attrition. From January, 1915, onwards they had both advocated consistently an attack on the weaker enemy front. Why did they swing round so completely at the Rome Conference? I will endeavour to give some explanation of this volte-face in the ensuing chapter.

Reflecting on the proceeding of the Rome Conference I had an uneasy feeling that the strategy of the Allies was not dictated solely by considerations of military advantage to their cause as a whole. The arguments advanced appeared to me to have very little to do with the various proposals which came before us. The motives that prompted either support or opposition to any particular scheme arose from incentives that were not revealed in the course of conversation between the Allied representatives. My experience of life has taught me that men and women are not moved so much by argument as by hidden motives which are never exposed in the interchange of words. Once the undisclosed impulses or prejudices are overcome the task of the persuader becomes simpler. The road has then been cleared for reason. The reluctance shown to help Cadorna with the guns necessary to enable him to stage a powerful offensive was defended in the Conference room by considerations much too trivial to be genuine. What, then, was the real objection which stood in the way?

Luigi Villari in his fascinating book “The War on the Italian Front”, referring to my Rome plan for a combined offensive on the Italian Front, says:

This sentiment displays an ingenuousness creditable to the writer’s generosity but not to his knowledge of human nature.

It is a commonplace to call attention to the strange mixture of human motives which impels conduct in all manner of men. It is confused and contradictory, selfish and unselfish, generous and mean, noble and petty—sometimes it resolves itself into a struggle between equally exalted passions—all these elements in the same breast and fermenting in the same heart at the same time. The blend of all with one of the hues predominating is what determines character. In some natures the ingredients constitute a mere blotch or blur of character. It is a mistake to assume that the best are devoid of the worst and that the worst possess no trace of the best. Sometimes a motive which is out of keeping with the general character of a man or a woman gains the ascendency over reason, baffling and disappointing his or her intimates.

In the Rome discussions, more particularly as to the project of an Italian offensive, were there no personal or national jealousies to deflect judgment? Are men in exalted positions—won by intellectual gifts, high character, and real achievements—quite free from these disturbing elements? I will give an illustration drawn from enemy sources. The great Austrian Commander, Conrad von Hoetzendorff, was a strategist of considerable genius. I have heard and read competent military critics who rank him as the greatest strategist of the War. For the 1916 campaign he conceived a plan to eliminate Italy from the War by an attack from the Trentino. Italian resistance was to be crushed by an overwhelming gun power backed by an adequate force of infantry. It was a feasible operation. Italy was notoriously weak in artillery of the heavier calibres and her supply of ammunition was deficient. Her officers also at that date lacked the necessary training and experience in manœuvring large masses of troops. As long as the Italian Army held strong and fortified positions in the hills, light and medium artillery might enable them to hold their own in the absence of a surprise attack. Once they were driven into the plains with no time to entrench, their inferiority in guns and manœuvring skill would tell against them.

In the spring of 1916 France and Britain were still inferior to the Central Powers in heavy artillery, and therefore could not, whilst they were undertaking great offensives on their own front, supply the Italians with an equipment which would have enabled them to resist effectively a strong attack by a German-Austrian combination. Had the Germans assisted the project with a few divisions and a complement of heavy guns, the Austrians, in order to create a force of sufficient strength to carry out the operation, need not have weakened their defences in the Carpathians. Von Hoetzendorff placed the scheme before Falkenhayn, who turned it down emphatically. Why? He also had his plan. He proposed to eliminate France by pounding the morale of her fine army into pulp in the mortar of Verdun. Once the fighting quality of the French Army was destroyed there would be nothing left to take its place. Britain was not ready. Her volunteer army was not yet trained. Her equipment of guns and ammunition was not complete. We all know how disastrously Falkenhayn miscalculated the resisting power of the French soldier. We also know that had the Austrians started their Trentino offensive in March or April instead of at the end of May, which they could have done had the Germans played up, the Russians could not have delivered the famous Brussiloff stroke.

Thus the additional weight which the Germans could have brought in guns, troops and quality would have converted the serious Italian defeat of 1916 into a calamitous rout. It would have been a more disastrous Caporetto. It was a more deadly stroke, for its direction was across the rear of the Italian Armies on the Isonzo. Its success must therefore have ended in a complete collapse of the whole Italian system of defence. In 1916 the Allies had made no arrangements such as those they perfected in 1917, as the result of the Rome Conference, to hurry troops to the aid of Italy in the event of a German-Austrian attack. That oversight would have made a difference of weeks—fateful weeks—in the arrival of needful help for the hard-pressed Italians. Even when British and French troops arrived on the scene, they would not then have had such a margin of heavy guns to spare as would have enabled them to rally a broken and demoralised army on the open plains of Lombardy, against the terrible guns that pulverised the forts of Verdun. Italy would not have sued for peace, but her losses in men and material would have been tremendous. Her means of replenishing material losses, which were mainly situated in North Italy, would have largely fallen into the hands of the enemy, and Italian demoralisation would have been general and deep. Recovery would have taken at least a year. As an effective attacking force Italy would have been out of action for the rest of the War. It was a brilliant strategic conception. Why did Falkenhayn refuse to give it a trial?

An examination of the probable effect of success on national and personal values will assist us in finding the true answer to that question.

The complete failure of the plan was out of the question. Partial success was the least that could have happened. Had it realised moderate expectations, the greatest victory of the War would have been Conrad’s and not Falkenhayn’s. If the destruction of the Italian Army in 1916 had brought the final triumph of the armies of the Central Powers nearer and made it surer, Conrad would have been the Teutonic hero, and not Falkenhayn. On the other hand, had Falkenhayn’s Verdun scheme destroyed the French Army, no name in German military history would have stood higher than his. Let us carry our examination of probabilities a step further. Had the Italian Army been smashed, that would have been the achievement of the Austrian Army. The German contingent would have been barely a fourth of the total force of the victors. The prestige of Austrian arms would have out-dazzled that of the invincible legions of Prussia. The struggle between Austria and Prussia for the hegemony of the German Empire had only been provisionally settled in a single battle as late as 1866. It was obviously undesirable that Austrian military prowess should be elevated above that of the North German. No true Prussian could contemplate such a prospect with equanimity, or help its attainment with any enthusiasm. Falkenhayn was a Prussian from heel to helmet. From the national as well as the personal point of view, a German victory at Verdun was more expedient for his country than an Austrian victory in the Trentino.

Falkenhayn himself came pretty near an admission of this motive in stating his reason for rejecting Conrad’s scheme.

Did Falkenhayn put these considerations frankly before his Staff? I should be surprised if he did. I feel confident that he never put pen to paper to express or marshal those incentives to judgment. Did he ever even avow those motives to himself? Probably not. Their influence was entirely subconscious if not unconscious. Nevertheless, they were at the root of decision, a root which had penetrated too deeply into the soil in which it was planted to be visible even to his own eyes. The arguments used by him were purely strategical. The reasons he gives for preferring an offensive at Verdun rather than the Trentino are published in his book. They are obviously inadequate to sway the opinions of so clever a man and so capable a soldier. That does not mean that he had not honestly convinced himself that the Verdun offensive would achieve the aim for which it was designed—the destruction in detail of the most powerful of all the Allied Armies. He was sincerely persuaded that his plan was the best. Had it succeeded it would certainly have been the best. But the chances were against it. These he did not weigh impartially. Where a man is hesitating between two courses, for each of which there is much to be said, his predilections and prejudices weigh in heavily:

Where the wider self known as patriotism also comes in, rare indeed (and unpopular) are the men who can preserve an unbiassed judgment.

Falkenhayn was as honourable a man as the War threw up in any camp. His patriotism was just as intense as that of Joffre, Nivelle, Foch, Cadorna, Haig and Robertson, but it was no narrower. Why, therefore, should it be assumed that their decisions on questions of military policy were more free from exotic elements than were Falkenhayn’s?

For Falkenhayn substitute Nivelle—for Conrad take Cadorna. For Prussia put France and for Austria write Italy. The analogy will then be complete and the inference irresistible. If Nivelle was persuaded that he would break through the German lines and march in the rear of his victorious armies to the re-conquest of Alsace, why should he forego that triumph in order to enable Cadorna to redeem Trieste? If the French Army were assured by his scheme of the credit of smashing up at its strongest point the greatest military fortress the world had ever seen, why should that glittering prize be surrendered in order to give the soldiers of Italy the prestige ensuing from making a still wider and wiser gap in the walls of the same fortress elsewhere?

The French jealousy of Italy had in it an element which was lacking in the Prussian envy of Austria. The French regarded the very existence of united Italy as a recent creation, brought into being by the valour of the French Army. For them Italy was still something to be patronised. By implication the French attitude to Italy was “Had we not fought and bled to make you a free country you would still have been an Austrian province.” There was always an element of derision in every private reference made by Frenchmen to Italian soldiers and sailors. The French attitude towards Italy was expressed in the cynical comment of a French statesman, when Italy was hesitating as to whether she would throw in her lot with the Allies, or allow Austria to purchase her neutrality by territorial concessions. When asked what Italy was likely to do, he answered, “Voler au secours du vainqueur.” The brilliant feats of her soldiers in storming almost inaccessible mountain peaks, their capture of entrenched defiles defended by a superior artillery, the heavy losses they sustained, largely because of their imperfect equipment, the marvellous achievements of her engineers—all these were completely ignored, and every Frenchman greeted any allusion to them with a gibe and a snort.

The following extract from a confidential report which I received from a well-informed official in Italy a few weeks after the Rome Conference, has a bearing upon this aspect of Franco-Italian relations:

Briand and Thomas, the champions of an attack on Germany through Austria, became rank and almost rancorous Westerners when it was proposed to place Italy in the van of the Allied attack for 1917. Thomas and I were great friends. But he lost his temper with me at the Rome Conference when it was suggested that Italy should occupy the front seat in the 1917 campaign.

It was not altogether attributable to the desire of French statesmen that the weight of the Nivelle offensive should not be diminished by the withdrawal of forces to other fronts. Both Briand and Thomas were eloquently insistent on the need for strengthening our forces at Salonika in men and guns, but when the same process was suggested for the Italian Front, then nothing could be spared from the Nivelle offensive. It was my first experience of this envious and supercilious attitude of mind on the part of French Generals, statesmen and diplomats towards Italy. It was by no means my last. It is largely the explanation and justification of Mussolini’s defiant mien and aggressiveness of tone during the first years of his rule. It is fair to say that the French were ready even to alacrity to rush to the aid of Italy when she was beaten by Austria at Caporetto. That was quite in accord with the historical rôle of France towards Italy. When, however, it was a question of helping Italy to enter first through the portals of the temple of victory and have the laurel wreath placed first on her brow, that prospect could not be endured by any patriotic Frenchman—and all Frenchmen are patriotic. Better a doubtful battle in France with a possible victory, than an assured success in Italy with a probable triumph.

Robertson was not quite in the same position as Nivelle. As between Nivelle and Cadorna he had no prejudices in favour of either. They were both foreigners and consequently needed careful watching. His chronic xenophobia functioned impartially in that respect. Nivelle he actually disliked, Cadorna at that time he viewed with a certain measure of superior contempt. But the main British Army was in France and Flanders and therefore a territorial advance of a few kilometres there (preferably on Flemish soil) was more desirable than a decision elsewhere.

Later on he rested his opposition to a combined offensive on the Italian Front on the plea that if Austria were broken up by such an attack, Italy would make a separate peace with her beaten enemy and leave us in the lurch, with both Austria and Germany on our hands.^[33] It was an unworthy and unwarrantable insinuation against the honour of a great people. But the fact that it was in his mind proved that he did not rule out the probability of a complete success for an attack in that quarter.

The French and British Staffs based their objection to concentrating their heaviest blows on the weakest point on the ground that the highest strategical principles demanded an attack on the strongest enemy at his most formidable front. A remarkable doctrine. Had France and Flanders been the weakest front and Italy or the Balkans the strongest, Joffre, Nivelle, Haig and Robertson would have had no difficulty in adapting their principles of strategy to the exigencies of that fact. Then I have no doubt they would have scoffed at the notion that you must seek the foe at his strongest. Robertson would have become a dogmatic and surly Cadornist, and probably Cadorna would have developed into a diffident and courtly Robertsonian.

It is interesting to note that six months after the Rome Conference General Sir Ian Hamilton, writing on July 11th, 1917, to Mr. Winston Churchill, advanced quite independently the same view which I had urged upon my colleagues in Rome. In the course of his letter he said:

Sir Ian Hamilton was not a civilian politician, but a soldier with a distinguished record. He was perhaps better fitted for a Staff post than for a Commander in the field. He had acted as Chief of Staff to Lord Kitchener in South Africa, had been a member of the Army Council, and for five years, 1910-1915, was Inspector-General of our Overseas Forces, in addition to having commanded British forces in many campaigns. He was the only leading soldier who had actually seen and made a careful study of modern warfare. He saw the great battles of the Russo-Japanese War. He was certainly not the sort of person whose considered judgment on questions of military strategy could lightly be brushed aside; and this makes his support for my proposal of an Italian campaign the more impressive.

Pétain and two or three other French Generals recommended the same plan in March as an alternative to the Nivelle offensive. The Rome proposal is taken out of the category of amateur strategy by the approval of these distinguished military leaders.

A change in the military leadership of France caused a change not in the strategy, but in the particular French villages where the same old strategy was to be practised. When I came into power, Joffre was visibly tottering to his fall. For two and a half years he had been the virtual dictator of France. Governments carried out, or rather provided him with the means of carrying out, the decrees he issued from Headquarters. He tolerated no civilian interference or suggestion as to his methods of conducting the War. A threat to resign on his part quelled doubting politicians or journalists and silenced all grumblers. His attitude towards changing Governments was that their sole business in war was to furnish men, munitions, and supplies to enable him to carry through such military dispositions as he, the Commander-in-Chief, ordered. Their functions ended at that point. As the whole strength of France was concentrated on the struggle with the invader, Joffre practically ruled the country. His insolent treatment of the men who warned him in time of the coming attack at Verdun shook his power and his throne became more and more rickety. The disappointment caused by the sanguinary failure of the Somme to achieve its avowed purpose further weakened his authority. His neglect to make any preparation to support Roumania in her challenge of the Central Powers destroyed what was left of his prestige. As Ludendorff points out, although the Allies had urged the Roumanians to throw in their lot with them, “no common scheme of coöperation had been settled.” Although British Generals were just as much to blame as General Joffre, he alone was responsible to French opinion. In Britain the Government fell, in France the military Chief was blamed. The result was that in spite of M. Briand’s efforts to protect him, he was gradually stripped of all power and on December 12, 1916, he resigned the command.

As he was mainly responsible for the military policy of the Allies during the first three campaigns of the War—his ideas dictated even the strategy of the British campaign—I should like to give my estimate of his qualities and defects. No one who ever came in contact with him can doubt that he was a very remarkable man. But his strength lay in character, rather than in capacity. He had the build and the qualities of the peasant breed: powerfully built, he possessed courage, even to recklessness; composure, even to stolidity; craft, even to cunning. Had his mental been equal to his moral equipment, he would have been easily the greatest figure in the War. His patriotism, his uprightness, his courage, his firmness of purpose, and his devotion to duty were all above reproach and without blemish. He was a man of indomitable will and of commonplace mind. He had unbounded confidence but a limited intelligence. The former gave him calm and composure in danger, the latter deprived him of the vision, breadth, and imagination essential to his colossal responsibility. He was faced with a more tremendous military problem than ever confronted Napoleon, and he had to discharge it with the brain of an inferior Wellington or Grant. Like them he was a highly trained professional soldier with excellent abilities. He was, like them, a pertinacious fighter and an efficient tactician, and given inexhaustible resources he could, like them, have worn out genius in the end. His mind, as well as that of his British partner Haig, only worked well, like a primitive tank, when the objective was limited, and where the terrain was within the vision of their own eyes. When that objective was reached, both had to recharge and reconsider for the next move. When either of them had to aim at something wider and more distant and out of sight, they always came to grief. They were not intellectually geared, powered or petrolled for such a purpose.

Where reserves, either of men, material or mind are by no means overwhelming, stubborn perseverance in wasteful tactics may lead to disaster. This is what broke the ardent spirit of French patriotism temporarily in 1917. It broke finally the devoted spirit of Russia. It almost wore down the stubborn spirit of the British troops in 1917. Joffre’s generalship, which dominated the Allied strategy for four campaigns (for he shared the responsibility for the campaign of 1917), had an ingenious and superstitious belief in the magic power of a “plan” without reference or adaptation to changing circumstances. A carefully thought out plan of campaign was of course essential. But for the Joffre mind a plan was something to be adhered to, whatever new facts were revealed, whatever new conditions arose. A stubborn will, if controlled by a supple and fertile brain, is invaluable in any great enterprise. But if it is wedded to a rigid and narrow mentality, blunders are inevitable. It is always tripping over a new fact and tumbling into an ignored pitfall. The plan is infallible only if the enemy adapts himself to it. But he sometimes fails to do so. With a perfidy which General Joffre ought to have anticipated in so treacherous a foe, the German refused every time to play the part assigned to him in the plan. Allied Generals were guilty of a very common mistake—they credited their antagonists with possessing merely as good an intelligence as their own, whereas, in fact, they had sometimes a better.

Joffre’s plan to counter a German invasion in 1914 was based on the assumption that even if the Germans passed through Belgium, they would march through the Ardennes and not further West. The mistake would not have been disastrous had he adapted his dispositions immediately to meet a move he had not expected. But what would then become of the great “plan”? The whole predestined scheme of salvation could not be thrown over owing to adverse and adventitious circumstances. When it was clear that the German armies meant to outflank French and British by pouring their troops through Maubeuge, the “plan” must by no means be abandoned. Hence the headlong rout and the occupation for over four years of the Northwestern provinces of France. Joffre throughout his three campaigns persevered in all his offensives long after it had become clear to every intelligent soldier that he was gaining nothing but casualty lists that deprived his army of some of its best officers and men. He sacrificed the Balkans to one of his conventional offensives and to his obstinate refusal to break off the attack even after it had completely failed. He was the paragon type of those military idols whom the Allied nations worshipped so devotedly, although they suffered so much from their incompetence—the great Generals who never learnt anything from failure except how to stage an even bloodier fiasco.

Joffre, Haig and Robertson had much in common. Joffre was the most forceful personality of the three, and of course had a much wider training and experience in the handling of masses of men. But they had all largely the same qualities and the same limitations. They were genuine patriots. That did not differentiate them from millions of their fellow countrymen during the War where, in Britain alone, over four million young men volunteered to face mutilation and death for their country, without prospect of braid or brass to decorate or distinguish them. The three were industrious workers, who did their duty honestly, according to their understanding of it. This also, fortunately for mankind, is a commonplace quality, possessed by the majority of toilers in every sphere to which it has pleased God to call them. They were also men with a knowledge of their craft, acquired by much study and some little experience. In that respect they were inferior to craftsmen in any other trade or art, for their experience before the War had, happily for mankind, been very limited. None of them had taken part in a war under modern conditions, or ever seen one. Their experience, such as it was, was very stale, and quite inapplicable to the job they had in hand. Patriotism, integrity, industry, study, and some grain of experience were essentials of their high responsibility, but by no means the only attributes that leadership in such an immense undertaking demanded. There ought to have been initiative, resource, pliability, vision, imagination, aptitude to learn from experience, courage and skill to profit by, and not to persist in mistakes. In all these respects these honourable men had grave deficiencies, and the world is suffering to-day from the results of their shortcomings.

French statesmen had been quite conscious of Joffre’s inadequacy for some time. They had historical precedents which ought to have stimulated them to a quicker decision in disposing of him. The French Revolution was saved by the promptitude with which Generals who failed were removed. The Allies in this war had been beaten in nine out of every ten of the battles they fought, owing to the reluctance which they displayed to substitute the efficient for the inefficient and the adequate for the misfits. Joffre himself had set an excellent example of the way with Generals who were unequal to their responsibilities, when he dismissed platoons of them after the great retreat. But he got rid of them before they had acquired any public reputation.

Just like the British public with Kitchener, the French public—and that included soldiers—retained their belief in Joffre long after those who transacted business with him had ceased to have any faith in his competence. His resolute countenance inspired a sense of strength. That is what a harried people instinctively seek in trouble. They make the mistake of thinking that the seat of intelligence is in the chin. Great generals, dictators, and bruisers always have that grim feature. It gives confidence to their backers. Joffre was therefore a popular figure.

Why did they not remove him? The victory of the Marne saved him from the consequences of his gravest blunder. That triumph lifted him from penalty to pedestal. Then followed a gruesome series of repulses which by every criterion set up by military history would have been ranked as sanguinary defeats. Why was he not deprived of his command then? Was there any one who had displayed any greater capacity for command available to replace him? Foch was implicated in most of Joffre’s failures from Artois to the Somme. He was therefore ruled out as an eligible successor. Besides, both he and Castelnau were devout and pronounced Catholics, and susceptibilities born of bitter reminiscence had converted that faith into a disqualification for superior command. In France, Pétain, Mangin, and Franchet d’Espèrey were successes—but had so far given no indication of the brilliant gifts that make for great military leadership in a World War. Nivelle was Joffre’s own choice when he realised that the command of the French Army in the field was to pass from his hands. Statesmen are reluctant to remove officials who are honestly doing their duty to the best of their ability merely because they fail in difficult undertakings, unless they are sure of finding an abler substitute. There was nothing better than Joffre visible to the naked eye of the French politician. So Joffre clung to his exalted office with tarnished glory and waning influence at home and abroad.

And now he had gone entirely. He was given the baton of a Marshal of France to hang in the salon of a Parisian villa, and Nivelle took his place.

With or without Russia the Western Allies were committed to fight out the issue until an honourable peace was attainable. The internecine troubles of the great Eastern Power did not therefore derange or delay the preparations made for a renewal of the struggle on the Western Front. The Chantilly scheme was pressed on, according to plan, as if nothing had happened to disturb the calculations upon which it was based. It was assumed by all the commanders in the field, as well as by the Staff advisers of the Governments, that the Russian Army would play the part allotted to it in the campaign, perhaps with renewed energy. Castelnau alone expressed any doubts on the point, and he did not embody his misgivings in his official report.

With the departure of Joffre, many expected a reversal of the profligate strategy of throwing masses of men against an impenetrable labyrinth of trenches, bristling with machine guns and defended by the most powerful artillery and best trained infantry, on the off-chance that some of the assailants might find a way through and out.

Joffre’s successor, General Nivelle, was known to be a good soldier with a record of prudent, skilful and successful generalship in the grim struggle around Verdun. Of his endowments as a strategist on a vaster field of operations nothing was proved. But his brilliant record at Verdun and our knowledge of his intellectual quality led us to look forward to a fresh survey, by a fresh mind unhampered by commitments or traditions, of the possibilities of the vast battlefield of the War. Thus might be discovered some wall in the rampart that compassed the Central Powers more vulnerable than the bastion which had so far defied every effort made to reduce it or break through by the strongest armies and the most formidable machines of the Allies. Our expectations were doomed to disappointment. There is no evidence that General Nivelle gave a thought to any front except the one where he was to command. Unfortunately the French Government, instead of putting him in charge of the whole War—as for all practical purposes was Joffre—limited his sphere to the command of the French Army operating in France. The other fronts were for him “out of bounds” for study and action. When invited to consider other possibilities, he dismissed every suggestion with a curt and peremptory refusal even to enter into a discussion on the subject. It was not his affair, except to the extent that operations on any other battlefield involved a depletion of the resources at his disposal for his own sector of the vast circumvallation. Any project or strategy that took guns and men away from the armies under his direction must be discouraged. Epauletted egoism is impenetrable to the assault of ideas. The battle front where the Generalissimo commanded—there was the War. Every other front or flank was a “side show.” How this year that infatuation led the French Army to the brink of irreparable catastrophe, and the pick of the British Army to a muddy graveyard, is a story which must be told in detail later on. But when it was a question of reconsidering Chantilly tactics, Nivelle was only too ready. He had to justify the change in command. How was that to be done?

To be fair to him, he had some new ideas which were successfully exploited by his successors and opponents at a later stage in the War. But he himself failed to put them into execution through causes for which he was not exclusively responsible. The result was that the slaughter was continued by the same butting and bumping methods as those adopted by his predecessor. The site of Aceldama alone was changed. The field of blood was removed from the Somme Plateau to that of the Chemin des Dames. That was in effect the only gain achieved by the substitution of Nivelle for Joffre.

How came the Allies to slither back into the old sanguinary ruts? I propose to tell the story without reference to its effect on the reputation of any soldier or statesman who played a part in its construction—whether it be my own or others. It is time the whole of the facts about both the Nivelle and the Passchendaele offensives should be stated without variation or varnish to suit anybody.

The “way round” was for the moment effectively barred. I have already explained why a Balkan operation was, for this year, out of the question. The way through Italy was not available. The timidity of Cadorna and the flabbiness of the Italian Ministry had enabled the French to slam that gate with the greatest ease. There was another circumstance which led to a recrudescence of the Western offensive fever. Up to December the French Army and the French people—and they were identical, for almost every French home was represented in the Army—were completely disillusioned about the prospect of a break-through on their front. Every French soldier who defended the shell holes of Verdun or the ruins of one of its shattered forts, and every soldier who had attacked the defended puddles of the Somme, knew that unparalleled gallantry in attack was countered by equal valour in defence, and that neither German nor Frenchman could penetrate even shattered entrenchments defended by the other in time to prevent another line, equally difficult to capture, being thrown up behind. If Joffre had remained at the head of the Army, I doubt whether a French Government or the French people would have agreed to a second Somme campaign. Joffre, who was not without understanding of the temper of his countrymen, realised this to the full, and he imparted the information to Sir Douglas Haig, with a view to inducing him to undertake the heavier and bloodier burden of the 1917 offensive. Haig, who had become a Somme bigot, readily assented. He had a magnificent army of trained volunteers, the flower of Britain’s youth. They were backed up by a fine assortment of new guns of the latest pattern. Hence the Chantilly agreement.

Then came one of those sudden changes to which the French are more amenable than their phlegmatic neighbours across the Channel. Joffre went and Nivelle came. Nivelle had been for five months a successful defender of the Verdun heights. That in itself gave him an assured position in the heart of every Frenchman and Frenchwoman. It is difficult for Britons to realise what Verdun means to France. The world can show no battlefield to correspond to it. On those heights Gaul and Teuton had, from the blizzards of February to the snows of the following December, been fighting out a racial feud which had existed for thousands of years. The concentrated fury of ages raged and tore, shattered and killed for ten months in one intensive struggle which has no parallel in the history of human savagery. The very road that carried the reinforcements, the guns and the shells that redeemed Verdun is to this hour for Frenchmen the Via Sacra of their country.

The General who had taken a leading and successful part in organising and directing its defence had a place of his own in the affection and admiration of his countrymen. What magnetised his name with a new thrill of hope was a recent episode in the defence of Verdun which established his reputation, not merely as a tenacious defensive, but as a skilful offensive General. To him was attributed the skilful plan which by a dramatic stroke recaptured the fort of Douaumont. The fall of Douaumont to the Germans in February had rankled in the French mind. The Germans had driven the French out of a fortress, which was in itself an engineering feat of which they were proud, and in whose strength they reposed the most implicit trust. The man who recaptured Douaumont was therefore a hero. It was a coup-de-main, but it was also the result of plans minutely worked out and precisely executed. He had hardly been three days in the saddle as Commander-in-Chief when there was launched another equally well-planned attack on the Verdun Front, securing an element of surprise by the shortness but concentrated power of the artillery bombardment, and the rush of troops advancing behind an effective artillery barrage. In forty-eight hours he had recovered a further extensive strip of ground and captured eleven thousand prisoners. The number of his prisoners alone exceeded that of his total losses in the victorious engagement. Here, indeed, had arisen the long expected military leader for bleeding France—a Captain who could win battles without sacrificing his brave legionaries.

It is interesting, in view of Sir William Robertson’s subsequent general attitude towards General Nivelle, to give here his report to the War Cabinet on General Nivelle’s successful operation of December 16th, 1916, together with his comments on the strategy of that operation:

These two brilliant victories sent a quiver of joy and expectancy through the whole of France, but the factor that impressed the French mind most of all was that by the suddenness and unexpectedness of his attacks Nivelle had won these triumphs at a low price in casualties. A country desolated and darkened by the sacrifice of Verdun and by the mournful butcheries of Artois, Champagne and the Somme, hailed the appearance of this new leader as they would a deliverer. Public opinion in France was worked up to a pitch of exultation and was prepared to welcome any plan that emanated from the brain of such a General. When, therefore, there were carefully disseminated rumours that he had a fresh plan and a fresh method for breaking through the German ramparts and driving the hated invader in headlong rout from the soil of France, the demand that this new plan should be at once tried became irresistible. I had noted the change when I met the cautious Ribot at the London Conference, near the end of December. When a few days later I travelled with the French Delegation to Rome, I found the fermentation had touched M. Briand and M. Albert Thomas, who had always hitherto been confirmed believers in the “way round.” They had both been accustomed to talk with derision of the expectations of the two G.H.Q.’s that “this time a break-through was inevitable.” I was therefore astonished to witness the change that had taken place in their attitude, for now they were ardent advocates of another great offensive on the Western Front, with a view to a rupture of the German line. I have already quoted a passage from M. Briand’s speech at the Rome Conference, in which he showed clearly that his change of mind was attributable to the confidence which had been engendered by the Verdun success in the superior military genius of the new Commander-in-Chief. He laid stress on the essential difference between this kind of offensive and all the others with which they had been afflicted, and between the caution of this newly revealed strategist and the buoyant unreliability of his predecessor. Albert Thomas, who at conferences and private conversations had been an unrelenting critic of the Western offensives, I found now to be an equally implacable advocate of the Nivelle attack. He objected to a single gun being taken away from so promising an operation. It was clear that these two eminent statesmen had been swept off their feet by the torrent of enthusiasm for the new method and the new man.

THE JOFFRE AND NIVELLE OFFENSIVES

Western Front, Nov., 1916

Showing Offensives proposed at Chantilly by Joffre.

Western Front, Jan., and March, 1917

Showing Offensives proposed by Nivelle, and extension of British Line.

I realised after the Rome Conference that a rigid opposition to this experiment might have disastrous consequences for the Allies. Had Cadorna and his Ministers shown more enterprise, there was a possibility even then of stemming a current, of the result of which I expressed myself at the Rome Conference to be apprehensive. But the moment the combined Italian campaign was ruled out by French resistance and Italian indifference, the only alternative to trying the Nivelle scheme was to do nothing but squat each of us in his own trenches, waiting for something to turn up. America had not yet declared war and there was no fresh hope in any quarter of the skies. The Eastern horizon looked dark and stormy. The Western was still a surly grey. The effect on French opinion of a refusal to play our part would have been calamitous. France was unhappy and might easily get out of hand. In spite of the most enormous efforts and the most terrible sacrifices, some of the most prosperous provinces of France were still occupied by the invader. Three sanguinary campaigns had failed to release the cruel grip of the foe upon more than a few kilometres of French soil. Every millimetre of the liberated earth was rent deeply by the cruel claws of war and reddened by the blood of the liberating troops. Hundreds of the towns and villages of France and thousands of kilometres of her richest fields were devastated. She was bleeding at every pore, still on her feet facing the foe, but staggering. Now there burst upon her a new hope of speedy deliverance. Had she been thwarted in her expectation at that time, she might have sulked. As usual the politicians would have been blamed in both countries. To stand blame is primarily their function. The bureaucrats govern and the politicians share the praise, but monopolise the blame. Briand and his Ministers would certainly have disappeared. Who would have come next? Peradventure Clemenceau, but perhaps Caillaux! Peace at this stage would not have been distinguishable from an acknowledgment of defeat, and could only have been concluded on that assumption.

The new hope had gathered such an impetus by the date of the first Allied Conference held in London at Christmas, that nothing could have arrested it but the flaming ramparts of the Chemin des Dames. It had all the unreason and extravagance of a religious and patriotic revival. In the absence of M. Briand through illness, M. Ribot demanded with unwonted peremptoriness that the British Cabinet should there and then give their assent to the Nivelle plan, which involved the coöperation of the British Army in an attack on the German lines at a point and by methods which it was claimed differed from those to which we were committed by the Paris Conference of November. Nivelle had been Commander-in-Chief for only just a fortnight. The ink was scarcely dry on his new Victory March when the Conference met.

The first I heard of the change in plans was on the evening preceding the Conference. I was then put in possession of its general outline. It was Christmas Day. What a day to be devoted by a British Cabinet to the consideration of a plan by which two million young men drawn from three Christian nations were to rend and tear each other to pieces! But war knows no sanctities. The barbaric expedient of war which did not spare the stately cathedrals of France and Flanders, and massacres the innocents by bombs in a hundred Bethlehems, would not hesitate about spending a Christmas Festival on schemes of triumphant slaughter. No one gave a thought to the pacific tradition of the day. To quote Burns about another transgression, war “hardens all within and petrifies the feelings.”

It appeared that the new plan had been communicated to Sir Douglas Haig on December 21st, 1916, in the following letter, where its leading features are explained with truly French lucidity:

Both the French and the British Armies were to conduct an offensive more or less on the old lines, each on its own front. But a formidable “mass of manœuvre” was to be constituted behind the French Front, and after the two armies had started their attacks, this mass was without warning to be flung suddenly on the enemy on another part of the French Front.

It will be observed that in its general character it differed fundamentally from the Chantilly scheme. Its success depended on the suddenness of the attack and on misleading the enemy as to the sector where the main effort was to be expected. In no respect was the change more apparent than in the rôle which it assigned to the British Army. To this change more than to any other is attributable the hostility of Sir Douglas Haig. In the Chantilly scheme, the main burden of the attack fell upon the British, and Sir Douglas Haig would have played the leading part in the projected offensive. By the Nivelle scheme the French were to bear practically the main burden of the attack and the part assigned to the British Army was first of all to take over a part of the French line so as to release troops for the attacking force; and to hold the Germans down to their own front by a subordinate offensive, so as to make it impossible for the enemy to spare troops from that sector to rescue their comrades from the plight into which the French surprise assault would plunge them further south. The secondary part allocated to the British Army in this plan was bitterly resented by Sir Douglas Haig. This resentment is apparent in the reply sent by Sir Douglas Haig to General Nivelle’s communication:

Sir Douglas Haig’s proposal that the taking over of part of the French line, which was an essential element in the scheme for creating a mass of manœuvre for the attack, should be conditional on British divisions being withdrawn from Salonika to make up the deficit created in Sir Douglas Haig’s offensive power, was impracticable. It was a ludicrous proposition, having regard to circumstances which must have been well known to the British Commander-in-Chief. At that moment the French, British and Italian General Staffs were anticipating an overwhelming attack upon the Salonika position from the victorious forces of the Central Powers in the North. There was some ground for apprehending that the Greek Army was very much tempted to join in the enemy attack. General Joffre had urged us to send two more divisions to reinforce our contingent in that sphere. We were pressing the Italians to do the same thing. Sir William Robertson was actually making arrangements for sending a reinforcement of fifteen thousand men to Salonika. Sir Douglas Haig must have known all that and his proposal must have been made with a view to upsetting the new plan. He must have known that even if ten divisions could have been drawn from Salonika they would not reach France before the middle or the end of February. He also knew that the reason assigned by us for refusing to agree to Joffre’s proposal that we should send two divisions to Salonika was that the necessary shipping was not available to transport so many divisions.

How then were we to find ships for ten divisions? As soon as General Nivelle received the communication, he wired to the French Minister of War:

The purport of these interchanges was communicated to the War Cabinet the evening before the Anglo-French Conference of December 26th. We had no opportunity of conferring upon the subject with either the Chief of the Staff or the Commander-in-Chief. This will explain the discussions at this Conference.

Mr. Buchan, in his “History of the War”, lapsing into his fictional mood, gives a fanciful picture of my meeting General Nivelle at the Gare du Nord on my way back from the Rome Conference in January, of his seizing the opportunity afforded by the dix minutes d’arrêt at the station to unfold to me his great strategical plan; and he proceeds to tell how, having heard it for the first time, I instantly caught fire. When a brilliant novelist assumes the unaccustomed rôle of a historian, it is inevitable that he should now and again forget that he is no longer writing fiction, but that he is engaged on a literary enterprise where narration is limited in its scope by the rigid bounds of fact. Had he taken the trouble to read the documents which were in the possession of the War Office and therefore available to him, he would have known, first, that the Nivelle plan had been revealed to me by December 25th, and actually discussed at a War Cabinet on the 26th of December, a week before I started for Rome. In the second place, he would have known that at the Rome Conference I expressed my doubt about the success of an offensive in France and suggested an alternative field for operations, and that this alternative had been opposed, as both the British and French Military Staffs, who were intent on an offensive operation on the French Front, had accepted the general outline of the Nivelle scheme. The précis of the debate on that subject, which I have already quoted, amply bears out this statement. And thirdly, he would have known that at the Paris Station I declined to discuss the plan with General Nivelle in the absence of Sir Douglas Haig. That also is officially recorded. Three fundamental inaccuracies in a single sentence are not a bad achievement even for a writer who has won fame by inventing his facts. The real explanation is that Mr. Buchan found it so much less trouble to repeat War Office gossip than to read War Office documents.

And now to revert to the Conference of the 26th to 28th of December, at which we had our first discussions on the Nivelle plan.

With the intolerance of a devotee urging the glad tidings of a new evangel, Mr. Ribot, on behalf of the French Government, urged that we should there and then, without consulting flesh and blood in the shape of military advisers, decide the issues which had been raised in the correspondence between the two Commanders-in-Chief. We, however, insisted upon an opportunity being afforded us for consultation with Sir Douglas Haig. At one of the sittings of the Conference I said that I agreed that the question was very urgent. But General Nivelle had only been in command of the French Armies for a fortnight. The first that His Majesty’s Government had heard of this new scheme was on the previous day. It meant a tremendous change in the plan of operations, and His Majesty’s Government must really consult not only General Robertson, but also their General in the Field, Sir Douglas Haig. The Cabinet considered that the question must be left for a short time to see whether Sir Douglas Haig and General Nivelle could not arrive at a decision. It looked as if they could, but if that failed, the French Government should then approach His Majesty’s Government, who quite agreed as to the necessity of very early decision and action.

After a good deal of further unreasonable insistence on the part of the French delegates, I replied that I did not think that M. Ribot would ask His Majesty’s Government to overrule their General Commander-in-Chief without at least hearing what he had to say. The Cabinet were sympathetic, but they must first hear Sir Douglas Haig. “There was no opposition from the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, who was sure that the question could be satisfactorily arranged.”

From this last sentence it is clear that at this meeting Sir William Robertson did not personally object to the Nivelle scheme. He certainly offered no criticism and expressed no doubt. He was only anxious to carry Sir Douglas Haig’s assent. According to Nivelle’s letter of the 21st of December, Sir Douglas Haig had at first notified his approval of the new plan. But Sir William Robertson knew that by this time the Commander-in-Chief was rattled and disappointed by the transference to the French Army of the leading part for which he had been designated by Chantilly. So long, however, as the fight was to be on the Western Front, the C.I.G.S. was satisfied and he thought the Commander-in-Chief could also be reconciled.

This is a minute of the conclusion arrived at:

I do not propose to give a detailed account of the difficult negotiations that led up to the final arrangements for the Nivelle offensive. That would occupy too much space. I have perused with arduous care the mass of correspondence, memoranda, and minutes which constitute the full record of what took place before the operations of April, 1917, commenced, and I propose to summarise them so as to give a fair and impartial impression of what happened. What in effect was the Nivelle plan and in what respect did it differ from all other “break-through” offensives which had hitherto made such a revolting panorama of gruesome failure?

The essential change of policy was in the element of surprise. Nivelle emphasised this factor as the main idea in his strategical conception of a successful offensive. The enemy must be attacked on an unexpected front at a time when he was not anticipating any operation in that quarter. He would therefore not have any reserves assembled and ready to beat off the attack. A break-through at that point would thus be less difficult, less costly and more easily exploited. The preliminary bombardment at the critical point would be heavy but short and sharp. The offensive as a whole would be on a much wider front than any attack yet staged. But its principal feature was that it would mystify the enemy as to the place of the main attack and thus take the Germans completely by surprise. It was a brilliant strategical conception. Why did it fail so disastrously? In the main, if not entirely, because in the working out of the plan, surprise, which was the essential condition of its success, totally disappeared. Whose fault was that? It is invidious to distribute blame and it would be difficult in this case to distribute it fairly. But of this I have no doubt: the fault lies with both parties—French as well as British, British as well as French, but for reasons which will appear in the narrative, the failure to conceal the plan from the enemy was attributable to French carelessness. There were two elements in the surprise: one was a change in the terrain of the general attack. The Germans were expecting a renewal of the attack of the Somme plateau mainly from the British Army. That was the Chantilly scheme and the Germans saw the usual preparations being made in that area for a great offensive. Nivelle’s mass of manœuvre was intended for an attack in a totally different area, where the Germans did not anticipate any assault on their line. The part to be played by the British was that of a “holding” attack. Thus the enemy would be taken unawares, and would have their reserves distributed on a wide front, whilst the point at which the real onslaught was to be made would be without any reserves.

The new sector chosen by Nivelle for his main assault was peculiarly adapted to preparation without being observed. This is admitted by Ludendorff:

It is acknowledged that the ground thus added to the front which was to be attacked presented exceptional difficulties. It was a plateau which had natural advantages for the construction of a system of defences and the Germans had made the most of their opportunities and converted this high ground into a system of entrenchments which constituted the most formidable fortress on the whole front. But General Nivelle reckoned that even that fact in itself was an element in his favour, when a surprise attack was contemplated. The Germans would not expect that an offensive would be launched on the strongest point in the whole line when there were so many more accessible points on either side. They would therefore take no special precautions either in the way of strengthening the line at that point or of massing guns and reserves behind. The heights and the more formidable defence works could therefore be carried before the Germans could have time to construct a new defence system, or rally sufficient reserves for a counter-attack. That was Nivelle’s expectation. But its realisation depended entirely on surprise.

The other element was time. The Germans were accustomed to the heavy-footed and clattering movements of Joffre and Haig—the long, laborious and noisy preparations, whose rumble you could hear for leagues with a favourable wind. They knew that not a shot would be fired until the last shell had been pinnacled in the last dump, and the last duckboard had been nailed in the last line of approach. That always meant that the date of attacks was generally postponed and never anticipated, and that the Germans had ample warning and time to make their counter-preparations. That is why the “set piece” always failed. The defence gained fourfold as much from time as did the attack. Nivelle was conscious of this. His last success was due to surprise. His next would be planned on the same idea. Had the Nivelle plan been carried out in its integrity, I still believe it would have been an immense success. At the projected date of his offensive there were only eight German divisions—including reserves—in and behind the lines he proposed to attack. At the actual date of advance—about two months later—there were forty. Warning having been given, the Germans massed their reserves behind the point of anticipated attack. Having by that date completed their retirement to the Hindenburg line, they had by that means saved several divisions, which they added to their reserves. They threw up fresh entrenchments behind their first system of defence at the point of expected attack. They also accumulated masses of guns and ammunition behind the threatened section. The delay transformed the whole character of the operation. The distinctive features of the Nivelle strategy gradually vanished and the lumber of the Joffre-Haig military ideals was restored—only with a more difficult terrain substituted. The only point of removing the sphere of attack was not because the ground was more propitious, but because the onslaught if made at this point would not be expected by the enemy. Once that advantage was thrown away, there were only two alternatives. One was to seek another terrain of attack on the Western Front. The other was to abandon altogether the idea of a great offensive this year in the France and Flanders areas and concentrate on another theatre or theatres of the War. The final and fatal error committed by France and Britain was not to decide upon one of these alternatives. The second course—a combined Allied offensive against Austria on the Italian Front—was suggested by three eminent French Generals, including General Pétain, but only after the British troops had already started their bombardment. That was one but not the only reason why the idea was not communicated to the British Government.

Who and what was responsible for the delay that wrecked the chances of success? It was largely due to the workings of a divided command. This was my first effort to establish Unity of Command. It was resisted so viciously by Haig and Robertson that the delays caused by the time spent in allaying suspicions and adjusting differences destroyed the effectiveness of the plan. After careful reconsideration of facts and documents it is not too much to say that had the two Allied Armies been as completely under the control of one Generalissimo as they became after the Beauvais decision in April, 1918, the Nivelle strategy, while it might not and probably would not have achieved a decision, would have secured a notable success. As it was, the Armies were never given a decent chance. The stubborn mind of Haig was transfixed on the Somme. When a change of terrain was suggested it took him a long time to extricate his mental top boots from the Somme mud. He always moved slowly and heavily when rapid and agile movement was essential. Weeks were wasted in unpleasant and nagging discussions as to the extension of the line to be held by British troops which was essential to the constitution of that mass of manœuvre which was the main feature of the new plan. Then came long delays over questions of transport and coördination. A conference of Ministers and Generals had to be summoned to adjust the differences which had arisen on these points. It was held at Calais on the 26th of February. Twelve days before that date, according to the original plan, the attack was due to commence. The German attack on Verdun had started a week earlier than it was due. That is why it was such a success in its initial stage. Joffre could not believe that armies were capable of moving at so early a date.

At the Calais Conference, M. Briand and General Lyautey represented the French Government, and I myself attended on behalf of the British War Cabinet. General Nivelle was there to put his point of view and Sir Douglas Haig came to present his case. Sir William Robertson was also there as Chief of the Imperial General Staff. Transport occupied much of our time. The discussion reveals the kind of problem that was responsible for delay. The difficulty ought never to have been allowed to delay matters when time was so vital to success. The British Army demanded two hundred and fifty trains—an addition of one hundred and twenty trains over what had been already allocated to them. The French Railways could not spare more than two hundred in all, and these with difficulty and only for a short period—for fifteen days from 1st April, by the process of stopping supplies for the civilian population during that fortnight. As French Ministers pointed out, the British Army insisted upon twice as many locomotives and waggons as the French Army, and that for half the numbers of troops put into action. General Ragenau stated at Calais that he felt considerable surprise at the size and number of the trains required when compared with the demand of the French Armies, which were being prepared for similar operations. The French, whose striking force consisted of seventy divisions, only required two thousand eight hundred waggons a day for two groups of armies. But the requirements of the British striking force of little more than half the size was eight thousand waggons a day. He could not understand how it was that the British Army required so many more waggons, when the French effectives were so much greater.

General Nivelle agreed with General Ragenau. If all the operations were calculated on the same principles as those adopted by the British, no operation, he said, would be possible at all. He could not understand why so many trucks were required during the operation. If we did not succeed within fifteen days we should not continue our offensive. If we failed we should stop. On the other hand, if we did succeed we should get into manœuvre warfare, and the mass of material required for trench warfare would be reduced. As General Officer responsible for the plan he engaged himself that fifteen days should suffice.

Neither Nivelle nor British Ministers were told that, as it turned out, these additional waggons and locomotives were not needed for the Nivelle plan, but were required to carry out the elaborate preparations already being made to stage the tragedy of Passchendaele.

The difficulties created by Haig about taking up more of the line meant delay: discussions about locomotives and waggons were responsible for further delay. There were fresh difficulties in adjusting questions as to the supreme responsibility and direction for the plan of action and for carrying it out during the course of the battle. Sir Douglas Haig was given the supreme command of the combined British and French troops in the arduous offensive at Passchendaele. But he and Robertson demurred at the idea of a United Command in the spring offensive. In all, three conferences had to be held, two in London and one in Calais, before an agreement was reached on these questions.

At the Calais Conference on the 26th and 27th of February, held in consequence of these disputes days after the time originally fixed for the attack, a compromise was reached which was accepted and signed by both Commanders and also by Generals Lyautey and Robertson on behalf of their respective War Offices.

When this arrangement was concluded and signed, I thought all disagreement had now been removed and that after this Conference the two Armies would move together as a united force. You should never put too much trust in the agreements of stubborn men, especially if they think they have been done out of their rights. I ought not, therefore, to have been surprised when three days after the Calais agreement had been reached I received memoranda from both Sir William Robertson and Sir Douglas Haig protesting against the arrangement to which they had attached their signatures. Another conference had to be summoned, this time in London, to re-bury the resurrected grievances which I thought had been honourably interred. By this time Haig and Robertson had worked themselves and each other into a condition of personal dislike of Nivelle, and I am afraid that dislike was reciprocated. It is easier to bury hatchets than hatreds, and old hatreds can always find new hatchets.

Sir William Robertson objected mainly on the ground that if unity of command were established for this battle it might serve as a precedent for future engagements in which both Armies were involved. He was an obdurate opponent of the idea of a United Command, even for a single action in which both Armies were involved, if the Supreme Command were vested in the French. As I have pointed out, the precedent was followed at Passchendaele. I naturally received no protest from Sir William Robertson then.

Sir Douglas Haig’s was an elaborate document, suggesting all manner of difficulties as to the practical working of the arrangement and proposing all kinds of reservations and limitations upon General Nivelle’s authority. All these questions ought to have been raised weeks ago and settled. It is right to say that some of the suspicions and apprehensions arrayed in these protests were provoked by a brusque and rather impertinent message sent to the British General from a member of the French Staff, couched in the tones of a peremptory order from a chief to a subordinate. This roused in Sir Douglas Haig’s already suspicious breast all manner of forebodings as to the ulterior motives of the French Government and its Generals. He said amongst other things that he “had heard rumours before the Calais Conference of a desire in some quarters in France to gain practically complete control over the British Army and even to break up its unity and sandwich British units and formations between French troops under French control.” As a matter of fact, this was done in 1918 without presenting any practical difficulties or raising any questions of dignity and personal authority. French divisions were sandwiched in the north between English divisions, all being under the command of Sir Douglas Haig, and British divisions were sandwiched in the Soissons area between French divisions, under the command of General Pétain.

However, I did not apprehend any difficulty in overcoming the objections raised by Sir Douglas Haig. But Sir William Robertson went very much further and objected to the whole agreement on the ground of principle and precedent. Before the Calais Conference he made it clear that he deprecated the plan. At the Calais Conference which he attended he never uttered one word of protest. He confined his dissent to unutterable grunts and groans whenever Nivelle spoke. These inarticulate ejaculations provoked irrepressible merriment in Briand, who was in his most puckish mood. He was in one of those phases of gay detachment which were an infallible sign that he was tired of the whole business and meant soon to resign. This he did shortly afterwards.

Robertson said nothing to me, either at this Conference or immediately after it was over. Some days afterwards came his written protest. It is worth quoting because it explains the attitude which he subsequently adopted in 1918 on this question and which led to his resignation:

He excused his assent to the Calais arrangement at the time on the plea that as far as he personally was concerned he had received no previous notification of what was contemplated. He, however, admitted that Sir Douglas Haig had informed him at Calais that he clearly understood the instructions of the War Cabinet regarding the forthcoming operations as previously communicated to him and that he would do his best to meet those instructions.

This unfortunate dispute necessitated another conference, which was held on 12th and 13th of March in London, three or four weeks after the date originally fixed for the attack. I made it clear in the course of the discussions that took place that the British War Cabinet resented the tone adopted in the documents sent from the French Headquarters to Sir Douglas Haig. Here is the Minute of my statement; I quote it as one illustration out of many of the support I invariably accorded to the Commander-in-Chief on all questions where his personal authority and prestige were concerned.

In the discussion which followed, General Lyautey said that before I wrote, he himself had observed that General Nivelle’s communications had a somewhat brusque tone.

M. Thomas said that the whole of the French War Committee were agreed on this point.

General Lyautey said that he had suggested to General Nivelle that he should not send any document to the British General Headquarters without making sure that it was drafted by an officer who was not only a good and competent officer, but one who was careful in the choice of his words in addressing the British Headquarters.

Admiral Lacaze said that what I had said corresponded entirely with the feeling of the French Ministers. For himself, he would like to add that either Commander-in-Chief, in the event of his receiving any document that was perhaps hastily drafted, and was couched in terms calculated to give offence, instead of remaining sullenly dissatisfied, should seek an early interview with the other Commander-in-Chief, in order to clear the matter up.

The Conference was attended by four French Ministers. After a good deal of palavering the trouble was once more arranged. Clumsy dispatches had been reproved and sore heads had been poulticed. As far as I know, there were no further personal embarrassments or misunderstandings in the way of effective coöperation between the two Generals. But all this friction made for delay. It was common to both the Chantilly and the Nivelle plans that the Allies should be ready during the first fortnight in February. It was already the first fortnight in March and the Allied Commanders were still wrangling about preliminaries. During this period French Ministers and the French Military Chiefs were quite convinced that the British High Command and the British War Office were deliberately working against the successful achievement of the Nivelle plan. The latter made no concealment of their dislike for the whole scheme. They preferred the old style offensive and they were still fretting about the brunt of the fighting and therefore the sacrifice being shifted from the British to the French Army. So thoroughly convinced was General Nivelle of this antagonism and of its being responsible for British tardiness, that he went to the extent of saying openly that the situation could not improve as long as Sir Douglas Haig remained in command of the British Army. This was conveyed to me indirectly. I promptly discouraged any such notion. But it shows something of the lack of sympathy between men on whose cordial and loyal coöperation so much depended.

We were not yet at the end of delays. This time the enemy was responsible. The enemy had decided to shorten their line in the Somme area. By doing so they gained three advantages. Their new position was considerably stronger than the old. They were also able to defend the new line with fewer troops and thus add several divisions to the reserve army they were building up behind the line in preparation for the offensive which they knew the Allies were contemplating. And thirdly, they dislocated the whole of the elaborate plans made by the Allied Generals just as they were being brought up to starting point.

It is a reflection on the French and British Staffs that the Germans were able to complete the tremendous arrangements necessary for such a withdrawal without any apprehension of the move on the part of their opponents.

The constant postponements had given the Germans ample opportunity to construct the Hindenburg line and to carry out their scheme of retirement to it at their leisure. The operation was completed to the last detail without a hitch. Whether it ought not to have caused the abandonment of the Nivelle plan is an arguable question. It affected this new scheme in a much lesser degree than it would have affected the old plan for resumption of the Somme offensive. The German retreat involved the whole of that old battlefield. The ground given up by the enemy over which our troops would have to march with all their elaborate equipment was so completely cut up and devastated, in roads, bridges and rails, that it took weeks to reëstablish effective contact. An attack on the Somme Front could not have materialised until the end of April.

About the middle of February an incident had occurred which gave the Germans a broad hint not only that an attack was contemplated, but as to the area and time where the blow was to come. Here is Ludendorff’s account of this strange accident—if accident it was:

That a document of so confidential and momentous a character should have been found lying about in a front trench within reach of the enemy, betrays such inconceivable carelessness that it is difficult to eliminate the idea of treachery. The point has never been cleared up; perhaps it never will be. Although the surprise attack on the right flank was not revealed, the incident apprising the Germans of the sector where the main attack was to be expected turned out to be very detrimental to the chances of success.

The second incident came later and was even more serious in its effects. It is established beyond doubt and is recorded by the French Commission of Enquiry appointed by the French War Cabinet after the battle to enquire into its advisability and the tactics adopted during the fight. The Report states:

This N.C.O. was taken prisoner by the Germans on the night of April 4th, and the document which he carried gave the order of battle of the troops north of the Aisne and the various corps objectives. Here the whole scheme was given away. It is significant that this kind of thing had never happened on either side before this offensive, and it is difficult to believe that it was altogether fortuitous. For some time French Generals and their Staffs had been conducting a bitter controversy amongst themselves as to the merits and demerits of the new plan. Before the French Army attacked, there had been inside that army what one could call the Great River War, fought between the champions of the Somme offensive and the offensive of the Aisne. There was also much ill feeling engendered by the promotion of General Nivelle to the High Command over the heads of distinguished and competent seniors. In the course of the internecine conflict between partisans of rival personalities and places, documents seem to have been freely and widely distributed by the excited combatants. The facility with which the most revealing of these secret papers found their way across the line gives rise to a feeling of suspicion which it is difficult altogether to suppress.

The Germans took the warning thus given and prepared to meet it.

Had the attack taken place at the date originally fixed, either the German raid would have been anticipated or the French attack—the preparation for which by then would have matured—could have been precipitated, so as to afford the enemy no time to adjust and speed up their defensive plans. They would have been still occupying their old positions on the Somme, and the divisions which they reckoned to save by the Hindenburg line straightening out would have been still occupied in defending that useless line. There would have been no time to bring up divisions from Russia and Roumania. The tired-out divisions would not have been rested. The Russian Revolution would not yet have occurred, and picked divisions from the East could not therefore have been exchanged for tired divisions from the West.

Before the attack was launched, delays and warnings had already doomed it to failure—so much so that an effort was made by some of Nivelle’s leading subordinates, including Pétain, Franchet d’Espèrey and Micheler to induce the Commander-in-Chief to abandon it altogether and think out an effective alternative. It is interesting, and not without consolation to those who have been persistently accused of the crime of amateur strategy, that the first and only alternative that occurred to these eminent Generals was an offensive on the Italian Front. M. Painlevé, who was then War Minister, has put it on record that Pétain, Franchet d’Espèrey and Micheler were “unanimous in saying that if we did not attack, we must without delay send an army into the Trentino.” The reason why they did not press this idea on the Government was that they had already committed the British Army to the Arras attack (in fact the British bombardment had already commenced). They could not then go back on their agreement with the British. It was too late now to reopen the question. Moreover, they felt that French public opinion had for three months been led to expect great things from this offensive, and that the disappointment would be overwhelming if it were suddenly abandoned and the French attacking forces were whisked off to Italy.

It is a sad reflection that had the attack not been put off by difficulties, largely artificial, which genuine good will would have dissolved, the Allied Armies would have caught the Germans in the act of “moving house” with all the traditional confusion attending that domestic migration. Long before the attack came the Germans had settled comfortably in their new quarters. Before the French attacked, the enemy were fully apprised of the locality, direction and weight of the Allied blow. As the preparations for the attack had ceased to have the character attached to surprise, they were given plenty of time to perfect theirs for defence. The “250 trains” spirit had supervened—slow, methodical and obvious. Time had been given to elaborate guarantees to allay Haig’s suspicions as to the effect of Unity of Command on his authority—but time also had been vouchsafed the Germans to perfect their defence. By this time friend and foe alike knew all about the plan; the former gossiping about it, the latter preparing against it. The surprise had developed into the most elaborate and best advertised attack in the War.

The French themselves do not appear to have known at the time about the German capture of their plans in February. The second incident, on April 4th, of the betrayal of their complete plans was fully known to the French General Staff, but not a whisper reached the Cabinet, or, for all I know, the British Staff, of the fact that the Germans were already in possession of the French plans. M. Painlevé stated that these momentous incidents, which ought to have constituted overruling considerations, were never revealed to the French Government until after the battle was fought. They changed the whole character of the operation, the success of which depended entirely on surprise. Nivelle was attacking the most formidable bastion on the German Front after the enemy had received ample and accurate knowledge of his intentions, and had made the most effective arrangements to baffle them.

Joffre’s plan avoided a direct attack on this fortress and proposed to pinch it out without direct assault by attacks on both flanks. Nivelle’s idea was that the Germans would never expect a frontal advance on so formidable a position and would therefore place their reserves opposite more vulnerable sectors of their line. The progress made, even in an attack which had been anticipated and provided against for two months, proved that Nivelle’s calculation was not altogether ill-founded. Had this stronghold been captured, Laon was within Nivelle’s grasp and the German line would at last have been turned. But what possessed him to persist after the secret had been given away and the element of surprise upon which he relied had completely disappeared? There is but one answer. These great offensives, once they fired the imagination of a commander, ceased to be plans for the winning of victory. They became a passion which could not be resisted. Like all passions which possess men, this one banished caution, prudence and fear. The more Joffre, Nivelle and Haig were criticised and opposed, the more fierce became their appetite for their cherished plans. They ignored difficulties, they concealed and suppressed disagreeable facts, even from themselves. We shall see this dementation once more at work when Passchendaele is reached in the course of my narrative. The plan becomes an intoxication and the intoxication a delirium. When the craving is on him, the planomaniac is blind. General Nivelle in December was a cool and competent planner. By April he had become a crazy plunger. We have witnessed this process many a time among erring business men who, in a successful, honourable career, have won repute for circumspection and prudence. If they are confronted with an unexpected check in a well-thought-out scheme from which they have a right to anticipate much gain, they suddenly lose control, throw accumulated wisdom to the winds, and decide to smash through without weighing the hazards. Many an established fortune has been squandered and many a respected character has been ruined in that way.

There was the knowledge that the Germans knew his plans—that they were proposing to thwart them—that the Russian Revolution had released many of their best reserves in the East, and that they had been added to the reserves which were to counter the French “surprise.” These facts, known to him and urged upon him by the ablest of his lieutenants, do not seem to have weighed in the estimation of a hair with this General, stimulated to a pitch of infatuation by constant dram drinking from the inexhaustible puncheons of anticipated victory. He was in a state of inebriated exaltation which destroyed his wonted poise. The quiet, modest man became garrulous, boastful and truculent. This state of mind accounts for most of the silly offensives of the War, and especially for the way in which Generals persisted in them after their failure had become evident to every uncommitted, sane onlooker.

As arranged, the British attack came first. It was preceded by a prolonged bombardment which lasted five days. The infantry attacked on the 9th of April. In its initial stages the onslaught was a brilliant success. The Vimy Ridge was captured, the German defences were broken through on a front of eighteen kilometres to a depth of six kilometres, twelve thousand prisoners and one hundred and fifty guns were captured, and we have no less authority than that of General Ludendorff, who was in command of the German Army, for saying that the situation at the end of the first day was extremely critical “and might have had serious consequences if the enemy had pushed further forward.” His further comments on the victory won by the British forces on April 9th are worth quoting by way of showing how near we were to achieving a result which, if not decisive, would at least have involved a rolling up of the German Army to a line far behind that which they held on the morning of the battle.

The capture of the French document disclosing the Nivelle objective on the Aisne had helped the British Army, for it induced the Germans to concentrate their reserves behind the Chemin des Dames. We were therefore able not only to break the German line but at one point to advance six miles. One officer told me that he marched with his company a quarter of a mile beyond the point at which his battalion was ordered to stop but found no Germans except a few stragglers who surrendered without a struggle. The following day that evacuated ground was reoccupied by the enemy. The failure to press the attack home with the whole strength of the British forces was probably due to the cavalry obsession which pervaded the hearts as well as the minds of the horse soldiers who commanded the British Army in campaigns where engineering, artillery and infantry tactics meant everything and cavalry charges worse than nothing. Thousands upon thousands of horsemen were assembled at a convenient point behind the line ready to dash through the rent in the German Front. Nothing came of it except the death gallop of Monchy, where horses and horsemen were mown down by a few machine gunners as soon as they came within range. Infantry had to be called in to capture the village. Cavalry were only an impediment in the advance. They postponed appropriate measures until it was too late to use them. With cavalry the policy of “infiltration” which the Germans used so effectively in March, 1918, was impossible. By that policy, if at one point the opposing line held out, at another it might give way. The Germans with their machine guns pressed onward where there was an opening. They surrounded the men who held out and forced them either to retreat or surrender. But cavalry must have a gap wide enough to charge through in masses that will bear down all resistance. The Australian history gives an account of how the Australians, eager to attack the surprised German Army on the right, were kept back for days because no gap had yet been made for the cavalry to get through. When they were allowed to advance the German reserves had arrived, the German resistance had stiffened, and the German line of defence was restored. Hence the bloody and futile attacks on Bullecourt. They ultimately, with infinite courage and tenacity, captured a miserable ruin and created one more salient, but gained no tactical advantage of any sort or kind. A great opportunity was thrown away of winning a reeling and resounding victory which might easily have produced considerable results by compelling the Germans to weaken still further their reserves on the Aisne. As a result of this failure to take full advantage of an opportunity which had been created by the dash and valour of our troops and the negligence of our foes, the Germans found it unnecessary to carry out the operation which at one moment on the 9th they had contemplated—withdrawal to the Wotan position several miles behind their original lines. That was a position which at that date was still under construction and incomplete, and might therefore have been captured in the rout, as our defences in front of Amiens were overrun in the debacle of March, 1918. As it was, the Germans were given plenty of time to rally and to throw in their reserves. By means of counter-offensives they were able to consolidate their defence without very much more loss of ground.

The battle then resolved itself into a series of attacks and counter-attacks on isolated villages and posts—futile and bloody.

On April 16th the French launched their great attack on the plateau above the Aisne. Was it a victory or a defeat? The Germans have no doubt that it was for them a victory. There were many Generals and politicians amongst the Allies who took their view. On the other hand there were distinguished Generals not in the least implicated in the strategy or tactics of the battle, who regarded it as a qualified success. The result is thus summarised by Foch, Gouraud, and Bruyère, who had been appointed by the French Chamber to enquire into the circumstances of the fight and its conduct:

It all sounds very much like the official explanation for the failure of Passchendaele. There was no breakthrough, but part of a desirable ridge was captured and for the rest the enemy divisions had been used up.

The conditions under which the final arrangements for the attack were completed, and the atmosphere in which it was launched, were not conducive to that composure and concentration which are essential in the execution of a critical enterprise.

The view taken by the French Government of the progress and results of the Nivelle offensive was not formally communicated to the British Government. But information percolated through as to the atmosphere of dubiety that was thickening around the offensive.

During the progress of the fight, the British War Cabinet took note of the situation. On April 16th I informed the War Cabinet that I had heard from M. Thomas some further details of the attitude recently assumed by the French Government towards General Nivelle. This was supplemented by information furnished by the Chief of the Imperial General Staff. It appeared that General Nivelle had summoned a meeting of his Army commanders, at which his plan of operations for the future had been criticised by General Pétain, who, though his senior in service, was now subordinate to him. As a result of what occurred, General Pétain communicated direct with the French War Cabinet, and General Nivelle was summoned to a conference, at which he refused to explain or justify his plan before one of his own subordinates. After this certain French Ministers had proceeded to the French Front to discuss the situation.

The Chief of the Imperial General Staff pointed out to the Cabinet that, after having approved the plan adopted by the French Commander-in-Chief in its initial stage, the French Government had proceeded to throw doubt on its soundness, though nothing had occurred in between to justify this change of attitude, and that such conduct was hardly fair on the man who had to execute the operations.

I said that I was of opinion that it must have been difficult for the French Government to ignore any arguments put before them by an officer of such high position as General Pétain.

It was no doubt very disconcerting for a General on the eve of a great attack to have conclaves of politicians and of subordinate Generals challenging, questioning and doubting his dispositions. Sometimes the debates were held at General Nivelle’s Headquarters, sometimes he was hiked off to Paris, to explain and defend his dispositions. Not only must it have rattled the Commander-in-Chief, but it must also have had the effect of unnerving all the Generals who were to take part in the attack, and the atmosphere of distraction and divided counsel must have spread far and wide amongst those who had the responsibility for leading the attack on strongly entrenched positions.

The battle was viewed by a delegation of Members from the French Parliament, and there is no doubt that the break-off, which was the consequence of the failure to break through, was attributable to their intervention. Some of the horrors inseparable from a great battle were witnessed by them and excited them to a wail of exaggeration as to the numbers of the fallen.

The Generals appointed by the French Government to enquire into the battle summarised their view of what had been achieved by the combined attack which constituted the Nivelle scheme in the following words:

The French members had exaggerated very considerably the casualties sustained by the French Army. These extravagant estimates were commented upon very adversely by the French Committee of Enquiry, and in dealing with the question of casualties they say:

This report came too late to dissipate rumours which had been partly due to the lobby gossip set going and stimulated by the excitable deputies who had viewed the battle. Rumour doubled and even trebled the actual casualty figures, and the popular imagination was staggered by the reports that were circulated. The revulsion of feeling was all the greater because of the altitude of hope from which France had been flung into despond by this shock.

When Nivelle succeeded Joffre, as I have already pointed out, every Frenchman, soldier and civilian, said, “Here is something different at last.” When they discovered that they had only substituted King Cormorant for King Stork, despair kindled into anger and anger into mutiny in trench and Parliament.

Rumours that had been disseminated amongst the civilian population behind the lines soon spread into the camps where soldiers were awaiting their time to be flung into the shambles. The result was widespread disaffection, and here and there mutiny amongst the troops, which at one time was so serious as to threaten revolution. The French Chamber was in revolt against the High Command. The French Government demanded the resignation of General Nivelle. General Pétain was appointed in his place. He was specially qualified to deal with the situation. He was a man of great calm and common sense, and it was probably known by this time throughout the Army that he was opposed to the attack which had miscarried with such heavy losses. The French soldiers knew, therefore, that General Pétain’s appointment was a guarantee that there would be no more of these sanguinary offensives which for three years had so recklessly squandered the youth of France in experiments or schemes prepared by Staffs, most of whom had never seen any actual fighting in or over the trenches.

Pétain’s tact, judgment, and firmness reëstablished confidence in the armies of France. But it meant that for attack on any considerable scale these armies had ceased at any rate for a whole year to be an effective fighting machine.

To clear up the doubt that existed in the minds of our Commander-in-Chief and C.I.G.S. as to French intentions, it was finally decided at the end of April that a conference should be held in Paris at which the political and military Chiefs should be present. It was fixed for May 4th. On the 1st of May the Imperial War Cabinet considered very carefully the line which the British representatives should take at the conference. Some days before the meeting General Smuts paid a special visit to Headquarters in France in order to ascertain the exact position. Sir Douglas Haig seems to have taken advantage of the visit to impress upon General Smuts the importance of an offensive to clear the Flanders coast. He came back full of the idea. At my request, he put the whole of his views upon the military situation into writing. As the document is an interesting survey of the position as it appeared at that time to a competent and independent observer, it is worth quoting literally the views he expressed.

Sir William Robertson sent in to the War Cabinet his comment upon the Smuts document:

In view of the scornful references to “the failure of the Nivelle offensive”, which afterwards became one of the clichés of the Staff, it is interesting to record Sir William Robertson’s deliberate summary of the result obtained, which he put on record a fortnight after the battle had been fought. In his opinion we had achieved “more than he had expected.” Between the French and ourselves we had “made a much bigger hole in the German reserves than we had thought was possible in the time.” So pleased was he with the progress made in this particular offensive that he was anxious to continue it. As to our general policy, he was back at the strategy of attrition. He had no other idea in his head except exhausting the enemy’s reserves. He does not seem to have contemplated the possibility that we might at the same time be wasting our own men and that the success of attrition is a question of the balance of wastage. He was very pessimistic, even contemptuous, about American help. He also took a gloomy view of the prospects and effect of the submarine attack. He thought that by 1918 the Allies could not spare the necessary shipping to bring over more than half a million Americans “and maintain them here.” He contemplated that by that time we might have been starved into a bad peace. Robertson was a close friend of Jellicoe, and they worked in the most intimate coöperation. Both Jellicoe and Robertson took the German estimate of the probable outcome of the German submarine attack. That is the real significance of Robertson’s references to shipping. It may account for his adhesion to the project of a Flanders campaign. In this memorandum he is not sanguine about its possibilities, but he regards it almost as a last desperate throw. He can think of no other. Meanwhile let the Nivelle offensive proceed.

I must add a word as to my own attitude at the time towards this offensive.

At the Rome Conference I tried in vain to dissuade my French colleagues from attempting another great offensive in France this year and I indicated clearly what the result would be. I urged an attack in another quarter, on the Italian Front. When they insisted on the redemption of our Chantilly bond, I could not withdraw the British signature and risk what might have been a rupture in the Alliance, especially as all our own military advisers took the French view. When Robertson supported the French thesis at Rome, he was in full possession of the detailed Nivelle modifications of the Chantilly scheme. At that Conference he was one of its most strenuous and stubborn advocates. When the Nivelle operation was the only one left on the board, I did my utmost to make it a success in transport, material and men—to the limit of our resources. I urged Unity of Command as an essential condition of success. That the first experiment was not a success was unfortunate. The facts I have related will enable those who have perused the miserable tale of folly, bickering, jealousy, tactlessness and sullenness to distribute the blame for the failure to achieve a better result. Unity of Direction had to be postponed until events compelled Generals to subordinate personal pride and national susceptibilities to the exigencies of a common cause in straits. It needed a greater disaster than the Nivelle disappointment to achieve this end. In spite of all that happened, this offensive was for the British Army a distinct success—a much greater success than the Somme. It might have ended in a triumph had it been skilfully and resolutely exploited. But once more the “angels on horseback” had spoilt the feast.

Whether there was any more to be gained by pressing on the attack which had commenced so auspiciously in our sector, was a question upon which I was not competent to express an opinion. I was strongly inclined to take the Pétain view that nothing considerable could be achieved by continuing the offensive on any considerable scale. But I knew that other Members of the Cabinet were of a different opinion, notably General Smuts, who had been sent over to the front by the Cabinet to report on the situation and who came back from his visit to Headquarters persuaded the Western offensive was the only military operation which was now open to us. I subsequently found that the majority of the Members of the War Cabinet were impressed by his ardent support of the Staff’s estimate and advice.

At this time no rumours had reached us of serious trouble in the French Army. Its worst developments came later. Had he known what the exact condition of the French Army was at this date, I am convinced that General Smuts would have hesitated to throw over Pétain’s sagacious counsel.

Both the Smuts and Robertson documents were circulated to the Cabinet and were considered at the meeting of May 1st. In the course of the discussion, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff read a letter from Sir Douglas Haig, in which he pointed out that at the moment some doubt existed as to who was the de facto Commander-in-Chief of the French Army, since General Nivelle was still the titular Commander-in-Chief, while General Pétain had been appointed as Chief of the Staff at the French Ministry of War. However this might be, the Field Marshal had little doubt that the French Government was in control, and that their policy was defensive in character. He considered it would be useless for him to continue to press his present offensive vigorously if the French did not coöperate actively, and he proposed a modification in his plans to meet this situation.

The questions raised for decision at the War Cabinet were as follows:

I summed up the arguments against further offensives on the Western Front this year, which weighed with Pétain and the French Government. The French, I pointed out, could claim that two very great Generals were opposed to the policy of a great offensive, namely, Generals Alexeieff and Pétain. The former had given his opinion that Russia could not undertake any large offensive this year, and consequently the Allies in the West would find themselves opposed to the great bulk of the German reserves, and by attacking would exhaust their man power in an operation offering no prospect of success, thereby weakening their offensive capacity for 1918. General Pétain, the French could say, had accurately forecast the failure of General Nivelle’s offensive, and believed in repeated surprise attacks designed on a less ambitious scale. The French would ask what prospect there was of a successful offensive on the Western Front this year. They would produce figures to show that the Germans had a superiority in heavy artillery, and that in numbers the Allies had no considerable superiority; in short, that the superiority of men and material necessary for a successful offensive was lacking. They would further urge that the blockade was telling on the enemy; that by 1918 the Russian situation would have cleared up definitely one way or the other, and that the United States of America would be able to put half a million men in the field. Even if the shipping conditions did not enable the American Army to be transported to the Western Front, it could be sent to Russia, where American organisation would by that time have effected improvements in Russian transport conditions. They would advocate that for the present our policy on the Western Front should be defensive, and that in the meantime we should use our surplus strength to clear up the situation elsewhere—in Syria, for example—and to eliminate first Turkey, then Bulgaria, and finally, perhaps even Austria, from the War. They would urge that, if the British Generals were confident now, both they and the French Generals had time after time expressed confidence before previous offensives in the West, which had never yet succeeded. These, I pointed out, were considerations which could not lightly be dismissed, and I felt bound to admit they made some appeal to me. Moreover, we could not disregard the possibility that in a few months’ time we might be confronted with an insistent demand for peace. If Russia collapsed it would be urged that it might be beyond our power to beat Germany, as the blockade would become to a great extent ineffective, and the whole of the enemy’s forces would become available to oppose the Western Allies. We could not contemplate with equanimity the prospect of entering a Peace Conference with the enemy in possession of a large slice of Allied territory, and before we had completed the conquest of Mesopotamia and Syria. General Pétain was said to be a very resolute and determined man, and he would be strongly supported by M. Painlevé. If they declined to coöperate they would practically take it out of our power to continue the offensive, and we could not succeed unless a substantial part of the German reserves were drawn off. Finally, I reminded the War Cabinet that we had no reserve of man power sufficient to sustain a combat with the bulk of the German reserves, until the United States of America could bring their strength to bear. I also reminded the War Cabinet that, to maintain our shipping at the barest minimum required to sustain the War, we required to realise a building programme of three million gross tons, and we could not afford that men should be recruited from this or from the connected trades. Shipping was at present our weakest flank and we could not afford to take them from shipbuilding. On the contrary, I had almost come to the conclusion, as the result of my enquiries during the past week, that we should be obliged to withdraw men from the Army for this purpose.

In stating the case as above, against the continuation of our offensive in the West, I made it clear that I was not myself committed to the arguments that I had expressed, but I considered that they required earnest consideration. This statement represented the view I then took of the military position and possibilities for 1917. I had, however, no support for this attitude and policy amongst my colleagues. In the course of the discussion that followed it was evident that the Cabinet as a whole took a different view from the one I stated.

It was pointed out that, if the Allies contented themselves with a defensive policy in the West, or with the policy of small offensives generally attributed to General Pétain, which the Chief of the General Staff and General Smuts characterised as equivalent to a defensive policy, the Germans would be able to release reserves for operations against Russia or Italy. Russia, it was generally agreed, was the weak point of the Alliance, but some difference of opinion was expressed as to whether the effect of a German offensive against Russia would be advantageous or the reverse. One view was that an attack might stiffen the Russian resistance and pull the whole nation together. Even admitting that the Allies had not much chance of breaking the German line this year, it was urged, nevertheless, that by continuing to hammer the enemy, we might bring them to a frame of mind in which they would agree to a peace on terms acceptable to the Allies. In this connection it was pointed out that Germany would probably reach almost the lowest point of depression and misery between now and the next harvest. The Allies, on the other hand, were still capable of making a great military effort. Later on, after a long continuance of submarine losses, though we probably should not be starved, we should be compelled, in order to supply the essential needs of the nation, to withdraw shipping from military purposes and consequently to reduce our military effort. To desist now would be to lose the moment when our own force was at a maximum and when the enemy’s anxieties were most acute. It was further suggested that to relinquish our efforts at this period of the War would be to deal a fatal blow to the morale of the Allies. In this connection it was pointed out that the French Socialists had by only two votes rejected the invitation to an International Socialist Conference at Stockholm, to be attended by German Socialists, and summoned in the interests of peace. It is interesting to note that all the arguments for a stronger offensive were based on the implicit assumption that America would not be in a position next year to render the Allies such military assistance as to influence a decision.

General Smuts was very insistent on the moral aspect of the question. He considered that to relinquish the offensive in the third year of the War would be fatal and would be the beginning of the end. It would be impossible to keep up the spirits of the people, and pessimism and despair would be rife among the Allies, while the Germans would be correspondingly cheered and would have time to recover their spirits. He did not foresee any likelihood of our breaking the German line, but by remorselessly hammering away we might expect ultimately to bring the enemy to terms. If we could not break the enemy’s front we might break his heart. It was hard on us and would involve heavy casualties, but, though it was a great misfortune, the Western Front was our problem and it could only be solved by this policy. For replacing losses we must rely ultimately on the United States of America, but to delay action until the United States could bring their strength to bear, that is to say, until the year 1918, might be a disastrous policy. Even if the French refused to take the offensive, we ought to be prepared to continue, and should insist on the French taking over the section of the line recently occupied by us to enable General Nivelle to take the offensive. Moreover, General Smuts assumed that the French would not remain entirely passive in any case. He considered that from a purely British point of view it would be better to attack in Flanders, where very important objects of British policy were to be achieved, in order to leave to the French the incentive to clear the enemy from France, an incentive which would be lacking if the recent operations had resulted in driving the enemy across the Meuse.

The First Sea Lord pointed out that shipping might prove the decisive factor and undertook to investigate the transport facilities likely to be available to the United States in 1918.

On a review of the foregoing considerations the War Cabinet decided:

The Imperial War Cabinet was influenced by these considerations to support the advice given by the British military leaders that the best course to pursue in the immediate future was to continue the pressure on the Germans in France, in order to prevent them from releasing their troops for an offensive which would finally put a distracted Russia out of action, and also to make it impossible for Germany to send any divisions to the aid of the Austrians in the impending attack upon them by the Italians. In the sequel we found that the policy of an active offensive in the West achieved neither of these results, whilst it ended in colossal losses for our Army.

At the request of Sir Douglas Haig and Sir William Robertson, I accompanied them to Paris for the Conference held on May 4th, to discuss the whole situation with the French Government and the new Commander-in-Chief. Before the Ministers and Generals met, there was a Military Conference held at the Ministry of War. At that Conference an agreement was reached, and a statement of the results was read at the mixed conference of Ministers and Generals in the afternoon.

Here follows the copy of the statement by Sir William Robertson:

Then followed a discussion which in effect emphasised the agreement which had been reached.

General Pétain expressed entire concurrence and said that the Generals were in agreement in detail as well as on general principle. Very shortly, the position was to maintain an offensive by limited action with definite objectives, and the British Generals made it clear that the full forces of the French and British Armies were to be employed for this end. This point was very emphatically elaborated by me. I pointed out that both France and Great Britain were apt to underestimate the measure of success already achieved, because their standard of comparison was the high and possibly exaggerated hopes with which their offensive began.

I asked what would our feelings be if we had lost 45,000 prisoners, that is to say, practically 5 divisions of fighting men, 450 guns, including some of the heaviest calibre, about 800 machine guns, had had 36 reserve divisions put out of action, and had lost 70 square miles of territory. Such a feeling of pessimism would have gone through both countries that it might have been difficult to keep the fighting spirit up. Captured documents showed that the Germans were short of material, and we knew that the food problem was much more serious for them than for us. We must go on hitting and hitting with all our strength until the German ended, as he always did, by cracking.

M. Ribot accepted my points. He said that to shut ourselves up on the defensive after three years of war would be a reckless and imprudent policy. We must press on with all our forces. But the question of effectives was really serious, especially for France, who had stood the brunt of the War practically alone until the British Army was ready. Therefore France must, although putting forth her full strength, guard against excessive losses.

I repeated that we were ready to put the full strength of the British Army into the attack, but it was no good doing so unless the French did the same. Otherwise, the German would bring his best men and guns and all his ammunition against the British Army and then later against the French. Tentative and feeble attacks were really more costly in the end.

M. Painlevé said that the French Government were in complete agreement with my opinions, but thought the idea, which had grown since the last offensive, that France now contemplated a passive offensive in order to save lives, should be put right. What the French Government really intended was to adopt the best method for using the full effect of the French resources and sacrifices with the minimum of loss, and he thought that the opinion of the Conference was unanimous to continue to do the enemy the greatest possible amount of damage. The discussion ended by a mutual assurance of complete confidence in the British and French intentions to use their full strength.

General Pétain adhered firmly to his policy of “limited” offensives. The strategy of the rupture which was the idea of the Champagne, Somme, Chemin des Dames and afterwards of the Flanders offensive, was thus definitely thrown over in favour of the policy of limited offensives with a definite objective, which was subsequently practised with such success by General Pétain at Moronvilliers and Verdun.

It will be noted that Sir William Robertson, at the Conference and after, accepted unreservedly the Pétain policy of “making the fullest use of our artillery”—that meant the Pétain scheme of saving your own men and wasting the enemy by heavy bombardment. The C.I.G.S. stated categorically that “it is no longer a question of aiming at breaking through the enemy front and aiming at distant objectives.” He thus by clear implication ruled out the project of an offensive on a large scale to rupture the German lines in Flanders and clear the Belgian coast. That certainly could not be described as a limited offensive, with no distant objectives.

This is how matters were left as the result of the Paris Conference.

As the previous volumes indicate, I had made repeated efforts to induce the British Government to establish more direct and authoritative contact with Russia in order to ascertain the real position in that country, and to discover what was wrong in its equipment and organisation. I had also urged the holding of Allied Conferences at which Russia should be represented by her most responsible statesmen and soldiers. That was only possible by holding these gatherings occasionally in the East. With a retreating Army important Generals could not have spared the time to visit Paris. And the Czar, with whom rested the final decision, could not have left Russia. At last, at the Paris Conference held on the 15th and 16th of November, 1916, it had been decided that, subject to the Czar’s approval, such a Conference should be held at Petrograd in time to discuss and make the final arrangements for the 1917 campaign. The Government instructions to the Allied Delegations were to be “the united front”, which included community of resources.

At the second meeting of the War Cabinet on the 11th of December, 1916, the question was discussed of making definite arrangements for a Conference of the Allied Governments and Military Staffs to be held in Russia, as agreed at the Paris Conference in November. Our Foreign Office was instructed to inform our Allies that the British representatives would be ready to start immediately after Christmas.

Delays occurred, however, in settling the personnel of the delegations from the different countries. I attached great importance to securing an authoritative and impressive British delegation, whose representation would command respectful attention in Russia. On the civilian side I nominated Lord Milner. The only other alternative would have been Mr. Balfour, but he had not recovered from a severe attack of influenza. On the military side Sir Douglas Haig could not leave his command in France, Sir William Robertson, who was the alternative to Haig, would have gone sullenly and reluctantly, if at all. There was no other General available who had the necessary qualifications except Sir Henry Wilson, so he was chosen. He was a man of brilliant gifts but he had obvious defects which gave the impression of unreliability. Had his force of character been equal to the subtlety of his brain, he would have deserved and probably attained the highest position in the British Army. His complete knowledge of both the British and the French Armies on the Western Front specially qualified him for this Mission.

I urged the French Government to select a General whose status would be recognised by the Russians. Here is an extract from the Minutes of a discussion on the subject which took place at the London Inter-Allied Conference on December 28th:

As a result of this short discussion, the French Government dropped the idea of sending General Roques and chose General Castelnau as the head of the military section of their mission.

Then came a series of postponements—all of them ominous of trouble. The subterranean fires in Russia had already begun to break through the crust. News came of the assassination of Rasputin—the Czar’s protégé and the Czarina’s friend—by a cabal of young artistocrats. The anger of the Court found vent in a shifting of Ministers who had failed to protect the favourite. The rumbling underneath became louder, and the seething and spluttering of steam and boiling mud became everywhere more apparent and disquieting.

At the request of the Russian Government, the start of the Allied Mission was put off to the middle of January in the vain hope that the volcanic fires might subside. The next postponement was significant of further trouble. The Russians expressed the desire that the visit should be further postponed, on the ground that the Duma was due to meet on January 25th, and as its first sessions were expected to be stormy, the Russian Government therefore preferred that the Allied Conference should not begin its deliberations till at least three or four sessions of the Duma had taken place. In fact, the air of the Russian capital became so charged with sulphurous exhalations that the opening of the Duma was postponed for a month, to keep out the lava from surging in hot fury around the Conference doors. Its first meeting was actually held on February 27th, a week after the Allied Conference had concluded. In another fortnight the revolutionary crater had opened, and the fires are still reddening the Eastern sky.

The representatives of Britain, France and Italy foregathered in England on January 19th, 1917, and sailed from Oban for Russia two days later. At this first Conference on the Eastern side of the battlefield, the Western Powers were represented by able men on the civilian side and by at least two men of distinction on the military side. The principal British representatives were Lord Milner, a member of the War Cabinet; General Sir Henry Wilson for the Army; Lord Revelstoke, as an authority on Finance, and Sir Walter Layton on Munitions. Sir George Buchanan, the British Ambassador in Russia, attended the Conference as a diplomatic representative. In addition there were a number of special delegates to discuss different problems. The French delegation was led by M. Doumergue, an ex-Premier and a future President of the Republic, and again a Premier, and General Castelnau, one of France’s greatest soldiers. The Italian delegation had Signor Scialoja at its head. It was the first time during the War that the Allies had conferred together on the Eastern Front. It was the first time after these years of war that East, as well as West, had been authoritatively represented at a Conference on any front. And now, alas, it was too late as far as Russia was concerned, to repair the blunders due to lack of coördination.

The party reached Petrograd on January 29th, and the Commission on Supplies started work the following afternoon. The first plenary session of the Conference was held on February 1st. Altogether the various meetings of the full Conference and of the separate Commissions were spread out over three weeks, the concluding session being held on the afternoon of February 20th, 1917. In the intervals between their meetings the members of the Allied Mission travelled about in Russia and tried to get a first-hand impression of its conditions, discussing matters with leading Russians and with their own agents and representatives in the country.

The Mission reëmbarked at Romanoff on the Murmansk coast on February 25th, reaching Scapa Flow on March 2nd. Ten days later the Russian Revolution began, and on March 15th, Czar Nicholas II abdicated.

The evidence collected by our representatives and the points which emerged in the course of the Conference show forcibly how great was the need for a closer coöperation between Russia and her Western Allies, and how deplorable were the consequences of Russian ineptitude and Western selfishness. The casual and inefficient methods of the Russian autocracy were well known to the West; but the Mission now realised fully for the first time how the selfish and stupid concentration of the military authorities of France and Britain on their own fronts, and their consequent neglect to give studied and timely thought to the difficulties and deficiencies of their Eastern Ally, had contributed to the confusion and ruin which was so soon to end in the utter collapse of Russia.

They found Russia in a deplorable state of disorganisation, muddle and disorder, rent with faction, permeated with German propaganda and espionage, eaten up with corruption. As to the Conference itself, Lord Milner reported in a confidential note to the War Cabinet that:

“The proceedings of the plenary meetings of the Conference were of the most jejune and superficial character. . . . The whole thing was exceedingly ill-arranged.”

A large and miscellaneous crowd of people was allowed to be present, and perhaps the most ominous note in Milner’s report is the reason he assigns for their inability to discuss things seriously at the Conference—the lack of secrecy and the prevalence of espionage.

“It was obviously impossible to discuss anything of a confidential nature before more than forty persons, many of whom we did not know at all, and one or two of whom we had a certain amount of reason to suspect. . . .”

A report made by another member of the Delegation noted that there were three groups of opinion in the country, of which the first was the pro-Germans, “whose sympathies and interests are entirely German. These people are recruited from the Court, the Civil Service, and the business community. If they could they would end the War tomorrow. They belong to the reactionaries, and profess to believe that Russian and German interests are identical, and must always remain so.”

This observer also noted that:

In explanation of this point it may be said that our representatives found the port of Kola or Romanoff had an unloading capacity of fifteen hundred tons a day, but the railway could not move six hundred tons a day from it, and in mid-May it would have to be closed for the summer for repairs.

This evidence shows the comparative freedom with which German agents and propaganda were able to operate in the country.

During the discussions it became clear from the outset that the Russians had decided to place in the forefront of their demands at the Conference the implementing of M. Briand’s phrase about “the common front” and “the pooling of resources.” They crystallised their plea into a request for the fixation, for each of the Allies, of “a minimum equipment” on the condition of carrying out their part of the general offensive. A reasonable and practical proposition, but coming—oh, so late. Why was it not made at the very beginning of the War? But one of the unsolved mysteries of this War will always be—why those who were responsible for directing it never met to confer as to their strategy until February, 1917, when it was too late to amend the most calamitous strategical errors. M. Pokrovski, the Russian Foreign Minister, opened the proceedings with a formulation of the new Russian claim upon the Allies:

General Alexeieff, the ablest strategist of all the Russian Generals, was unable to be present, partly through ill health. His place was taken by General Gourko, the Russian Chief of Staff. He also was reputed to be a good soldier. He spoke next after M. Pokrovski, and stressed the same point:

The importance of this principle was clearly recognised by Lord Milner, and he underlined it in a Continental Note which he prepared while in Russia and passed over to Pokrovski and to the Czar, for the purpose of intimating to them his view on matters which it had been difficult to thrash out in the crowded open session. In this Note he said:

These quotations show how firmly Lord Milner had come to support the views which, as documents I have quoted in previous volumes of these Memoirs show, had long been urged by me, that if a share of the ammunition blazed away in France on senseless and sanguinary attacks, and of the transport material rendered necessary by these tremendous offensives, had been given to the Russians, Serbians and Roumanians, it would have enabled them to roll back the foe and produce decisions.

The neglect to give to Russia some part of the supplies wasted by the Allies on their own front seems to have sunk deep into the Russian mind and produced a sense of general irritation with the West.

In his report to the War Cabinet, Milner said:

When I come to the chapter on the Revolution I shall deal more fully with the effect on the Russian mind of our imprudent stinginess in the matter of sharing supplies.

In pressing for the consideration of some real measure of resource-pooling, the Russians urged again and again their interesting practical suggestion, that account should be taken of the minimum requirements necessary to enable an army to carry out the operations expected from it. General Gourko said in his address:

The proposition he lays down is unchallengeable; and had it been discussed in a friendly manner between the Allies in 1914 or even in 1915, and accepted and acted upon as a cardinal principle of their strategical combination, it would have enabled them to achieve victory before the end of 1916, if not sooner. It is incredible that this Conference was the first occasion on which so obvious a principle had ever been seriously advanced and considered fully. It had not even been urged at any Conference before November, 1916.

When at the conclusion of the first plenary session, M. Pokrovski submitted a series of questions which the Conference was to discuss at its subsequent meetings and commissions, he specifically included this issue, setting it out in the following terms:

The carrying into effect of this proposition was, as it turned out in the subsequent discussions, handicapped by the difficulty of getting goods into Russia, and, once they were in Russia, of transporting them promptly to the requisite destination. There was first the shortage of shipping tonnage, resulting from the activity of German submarines; then the congestion and bad management of the few Russian ports; the shortage of railway lines and rolling stock, and inefficient management of existing facilities for getting the goods from the ports to the interior and the front. Added to this was the consideration that the Russians sometimes failed to assemble correctly the articles sent them, or to use them properly when they had them.

Thus our representatives reported that there was at Vladivostok an accumulation of essential war stores, estimated at four hundred thousand to five hundred thousand tons, much of it lying about in the open, through failure of the Trans-Siberian Railway to clear it. At Kola the congestion was such that tonnage was being held up in the port for weeks, and sometimes for months, waiting to be unloaded. As there were no exports to place on returning vessels, and no ballasts available for them, “coal was put on board to serve this purpose which had only just been shipped out from England.”

Although there was a shortage of rolling stock to move these goods we learnt that in addition to the rolling stock used for carrying supplies and munitions for the Army,

Similarly as regards the railway rolling stock used to carry supplies for the civilian population,

Private traders would circumvent this by bribing railway officials to let them have waggons. But as no one was bribing in the interests of the Government, Government stores remained stationary for long periods. Bribery is always an anti-social weapon.

These circumstances ought not to have been a surprise to any one who knew Czarist Russia. In fact it was always a subject of gossip and jest whenever and wherever Russian needs were discussed. But the Allies ought to have made a common effort to grapple with these conditions years ago. The organisation of Russia for waging effective war ought to have been one of the first concerns of the Western Allies.

At this Conference arrangements were made to reorganise transport and distribution. In determining what supplies to send to Russia, discussion proceeded partly upon the principle of the maximum amount which it was thought could be brought to the country and distributed there in the course of 1917. In this connection, Lord Milner reported to the War Cabinet:

It cannot be denied that there was real force behind the contention of the Allies that transport difficulties would handicap the allotment of large supplies to Russia. But that ought to have been ascertained and set right years ago; the defect in Russian efficiency was well known before the War. Had there been such an authoritative Conference in Russia in 1915 as the one the proceedings of which I am now summarising, deficiencies could have been made up, shortcomings could have been rectified—and all in time, before Russian nerve, patience and endurance had been exhausted and before despair and hunger had bred disaffection. The Russians were so frightened by their defeats in 1915 that they would have agreed to any system of supervision and control in return for assured supplies. They were quite accustomed to the spectacle of foreigners organising industries and enterprises for them in their own country. Before the War there were German engineers in every branch of the metal industries and there were Welsh settlements in the iron and steel districts and in the coal areas. Sir John Hanbury-Williams reported in 1916 that the Czar had looked forward to the visit of Lord Kitchener as an opportunity for overhauling and reorganising the transport system in Russia.

General Hanbury-Williams was a soldier perfectly adapted to represent the country at a Headquarters where the Commander-in-Chief was a Grand Duke, followed by an Emperor. He had enough intelligence to perceive that things were going wrong—he was enough of a soldier to feel that he must call attention to muddles and breakdowns—he was enough of a courtier to be able to do so without offence or effect. His deferential criticisms gave the Czar the requisite impression of the blunt and straightforward Englishman doing his duty to his own Army Chiefs, whilst the way it was said caused no irritation, left no uneasiness and produced no results. That is why I was anxious that Sir William Robertson and Lord Reading should be sent on a special mission to Russia in September, 1916. Even at that late hour something might have been achieved in the way of reorganisation which would have sufficiently improved transport to carry hundreds of thousands more tons of food and fuel to towns and trenches in the hardest days of a cruel winter and thus have averted revolution.

The plan adopted at the Conference for reëquipping the Russian Army and replenishing the meagre provisionment of the towns promised immediate improvement. Whether it was or was not adequate and whether it would have been honestly operated, are questions no one can now answer.

If the Duma leaders had been brought into active coöperation, I believe the plan would have worked reasonably well. But it was too late to put it into operation. The Revolution was crouching just round the corner, and, as soon as the delegates left, it leapt up with a furious spring.

What was the state of the Russian Army? At the beginning of 1917, despite the terrible experiences it had suffered, it was still a force of great numerical strength and of fine material. Its weakness was mainly behind the front. At the front its chief deficiency was munitions, but the requisite supplies of food and clothing were also lacking. Sir Henry Wilson noted in his diary that:

In his report to the War Cabinet, Wilson wrote:

But where did Sir Henry Wilson ever see any other army of the Alliance “in a similar situation”? An incident which was not recorded in his report, but which so impressed him that he frequently spoke of it afterwards, occurred at one point of his visit to the front. Through an interpreter he was chatting with some soldiers in a trench and was surprised to find that the question they chiefly wanted to ask him, with a quite particular insistence, was “whether the British soldiers fighting on the Western Front were called upon to tear down barbed-wire entanglements with their hands!”

Lord Milner could not shut his eyes to the scantiness of the help we were arranging to offer to Russia. He stated in his report:

But if the soldiers were short of arms and ammunition, our Mission found that the civil population was becoming no less short of enthusiasm for a prolonged conflict. Lord Milner reported:

The incompetence of the Government was, it is true, a byword.

The depression which Lord Milner felt on coming into contact with the deplorable conditions in Russia attacked his Allied colleagues in similar fashion. General Wilson records in his diary that when he met General Castelnau, the French military delegate, after returning on February 14th from a trip to the front, he found the General,

Two days later Wilson met Milner, and recorded:

General Wilson tried to cheer him up, but evidently was not successful, for he notes after a discussion with Milner, Castelnau and others of the Mission who had been comparing notes and reflections during the return journey after the Conference that:

Milner considers the defeat of the Boches in the field as impossible, and therefore he is prepared to consider terms of peace.

Lord Milner’s dejection over the state of things he found in Russia must have been deep indeed for him to voice so gloomy a sentiment.

The outbreak of the Russian Revolution, which followed so swiftly on the heels of the Allied Conference, destroyed the value of all the work it had accomplished. The shadow of this rapidly approaching political collapse overhung all the deliberations of the Conference. The minutes of the proceedings, and still more the memoranda and confidential reports prepared by the British delegates, convey to their reader the impression of a general state of chaos and disorganisation, of open corruption and incompetent leadership, which made most of the work which the Conference attempted to carry out as futile as cultivating a quicksand.

The murder of Rasputin had taken place on the 31st of December, 1916, a month before the Mission reached Petrograd, and instead of closing accounts between Court and people, it had only stirred up the latent discontents to franker and freer expression. Throughout their stay in Russia, our delegates heard quite open discussion, even in the highest circles of Petrograd society, as to the probability of the Czar and Czarina being assassinated. Indeed, it transpired that in some quarters the highest hope entertained in regard to the Allied Conference was that it might produce some arrangement which would on one pretext or other remove Nicholas and his wife out of Russia, and leave affairs there to a Regent who might be able to pull things together.

Curiously enough, the British delegates could not bring themselves to take this talk quite seriously. Apart from these reports, the British Delegation had been informed by Sir George Buchanan that the Czar was hesitating between the grant of a Liberal Constitution and the dissolution of the Duma, with definite leanings towards the latter course. Rodzianko, the President of the Duma, had also told Lord Milner that the majority of the members of the Duma had definitely decided to defy the Czar’s decree to dissolve. That meant the beginning of a conflict between the Emperor and the popular leaders.

They had received a still more significant piece of information from Colonel Knox—the plain-spoken officer who not only saw things as they were, but reported and recorded them without gloss to his superiors. According to Knox, the Czar, anticipating trouble when the Duma was dispersed, ordered two crack regiments (including the Guards) to leave the front and proceed at once to Petrograd to preserve order and overawe treason. All the officers of these regiments signed a round robin begging to be allowed to remain at the front. And yet our Delegation, knowing this, did not anticipate any immediate convulsion.

They were given another warning. The Duma was to meet in a week after the close of the Conference. The Delegation asked permission to remain in Russia to witness the meeting. A Court official intimated to them that if they stayed, the assembling of the Duma would be put off for another fortnight. That portended mischief. The delegates ought to have known that it indicated the Czar’s resolve to suppress all efforts at coöperation with the Liberal leaders (the Socialists had not yet appeared on the scene) and that such a course would end in anarchy. All the same, they came away fully convinced there would be no revolution till after the War. Sir Walter Layton was perhaps an exception. When asked on his return, “Are they keen on the War?” he replied, “No, they are much too busy thinking of the coming revolution.” His official report, however, dealt only with munitions—and properly so—and the War Cabinet were therefore not informed of the conclusion to which he personally had come.

The head of the British Delegation, Lord Milner, was by training and temperament a bureaucrat. He knew nothing of the populace that trod the streets outside the bureau. He did not despise them. He just left them out of his calculations. A study of the ways and thoughts of the crowd constituted no part of the preparation for entry into the civil service or for success afterwards. The more you meddled with that side of the Government, the less chance there was for promotion. It was for the politicians to deal with these things, and he was not and never became a politician. Henry Wilson was every inch of him—and he had many more inches than the average—a professional soldier. The soldiers were not supposed to take cognisance of the people, except the specimens who joined the Army. He judged these entirely by the canons of discipline. The supreme test of discipline was saluting the officers. He saw with his own eyes that the Russian soldiers passed that test superbly. Mutiny in the Army was therefore remote, and if the Army could be depended upon, “the frocks” (as he always nicknamed politicians) who babbled in the Duma did not matter. He had strong political prejudices, but they were sectarian in their origin and all irrelevant to the Russian situation. He hated Papists and Irish Patriots and he encountered neither amongst the Russian soldiers or civilians. So he quite independently and from another angle supported Milner in the conclusion that there was no danger of any upheaval in the immediate future. The chief Missioners were unanimously of opinion that although revolution was inevitable, it would be postponed till after the War. After comparing notes on their way home, Lord Milner on his own and their behalf reported to the Cabinet:

Having regard to the warnings which were blaring at them in every direction, it is incomprehensible that they should have been so deaf and blind. It is one more proof of the way in which the most intelligent human judgment has always been misled by the tapestries of an established order without paying sufficient regard to the condition of the walls they hide and on which they hang. Everything they saw, most of what they heard, pointed to revolution, and immediate revolution. Even Sir Henry Wilson wrote in his private diary:

Mr. G. R. Clerk (now Sir George Clerk), the British Ambassador in Paris, then an experienced Foreign Office official who accompanied the Mission to Russia, presented to Lord Milner a report of his impressions from which I give the following extract:

The interview to which he alludes ought to have convinced Lord Milner of the danger of an imminent upheaval. Those who still cherish the belief—of these Mr. Churchill is the most eloquent—that the Czarist régime had at this time by heroic efforts overcome most of the difficulties under which Russia laboured and was stricken down in the hour of impending achievement, ought to read this confidential report of a conversation between Lord Milner and two of the most moderate leaders on the Russian Duma. It took place immediately after the arrival of Lord Milner on the 11th of February:

The appeal which two of the most influential Duma leaders thus made to Lord Milner was that the Allied Mission should exercise the whole of their influence with the Czar to inaugurate the necessary reforms and to work in completer harmony with the chosen representatives of his people; a similar appeal was made to the French Delegation. There is something poignant in their entreaty to M. Doumergue and his colleagues to do something at once to save their country from imminent disruption. Miliukoff, the eminent Russian jurist, and Maklakoff, the great Duma orator, made a passionate protest against the counsel of patience given them on this occasion:

The delegates, however, seemed to have felt some delicacy as to bringing pressure to bear upon the Czar in reference to the internal administration of the country of which he was the autocratic ruler. Sir George Buchanan had talked to him with great candour. His straightforwardness was rewarded with a reply the arrogance of which will always be quoted as one of the best examples of that haughtiness of spirit which prefaces a bad fall.^[46] But there is nothing in the reports which indicate that any of the Allied delegates challenged a similar snub. The French civilian delegates appeared to be more preoccupied with the extension of the French frontiers after victory than with securing conditions which alone made victory possible.

Paléologue gives in his entrancing Diary an astonishing account of his first interview with Doumergue. The latter first enquired about the internal condition of Russia and on being assured that “Russia was walking straight into the abyss and that we must make haste”, he promptly took the Ambassador’s advice by asking him to take steps without delay to obtain from the Emperor a written record of his promise to help France to secure in the Peace Treaty the left bank of the Rhine. The French Premier had given definite instructions to his Delegation on this subject, but apparently on no other. The Czar was giving an official reception to all the Inter-Allied delegates. An interview was arranged to take place at that reception between him and the heads of the French Delegation. When the opportunity came in the course of the evening, M. Doumergue seized it with true French élan. A jejune sentence from him about the desirability of simultaneous offensives began the conversation. This was assented to by the Czar. Then the French delegate plunged into real business by “broaching the topic of the left bank of the Rhine.” Alsace-Lorraine was to be restored to France and it must be the ancient Lorraine of the ninth century. The rest of the German territories on the left bank of the Rhine were to be severed from Germany and suitable arrangements made for their administration. M. Doumergue examined each of these questions “in the greatest detail” and obtained the Emperor’s unqualified assent. There was obviously no time to discuss Russia’s internal difficulties, the lack of food and fuel that was starving the crowded and crowding populations of the great towns into a state of universal sedition, nor the absence of effective equipment at the front to enable the Army to take its part in the all-round offensive. The Czar feared, so the French Ambassador tells us, “that the delegates would give him unwanted advice on internal politics.” He was now reassured on the point. You must not presume too much on an Emperor’s courtesy in granting at a ceremonial reception such a prolonged interview; and to requite such a civility by introducing unpleasant topics, and especially after he had conceded the main purpose and petition of the delegates, would have been untactful and discourteous in the extreme.

It is recorded that the Emperor showed his relief at French forbearance by lighting a cigarette and passing on to other groups. He was not sure that conversation with the British and Italian delegates would turn out to be quite as agreeable. He therefore decided to take no risks. The report states that “all had a kind word from him, but nothing more; he did not linger to talk to anyone.”

And at this time “Russia was walking straight into the abyss” and a few weeks later fell into it, dragging with her the amiable and assenting Czar and his pledge to France.

At that time it was taken for granted that a revolution would be confined to the deposition of Czar Nicholas and the substitution of his son. Pledges given by the former would bind his successor. Hence the anxiety of the French Ministry to extract this understanding before the present Czar disappeared through the oubliette. The Regent and his advisers might not be so obliging.

So as to leave no doubt on the supreme question of France’s dominance over the left bank of the Rhine, M. Briand issued definite instructions to the Ambassador to reduce the French demands to writing. And here is his record of the action he took:

As a comment on the fraternity and good faith that characterised relations between the Allies, it is worth while mentioning the fact that the Government of “perfidious Albion” was kept completely in the dark about these secret discussions and pledges concerning the terms of the Peace Treaty. The promise was extracted from the Czar in the presence, but not in the hearing, of the British and Italian representatives at Petrograd, and not a hint was given them of the clandestine and underhanded transaction. When the Revolutionaries later on revealed the existence of this secret Treaty between two Allies, the French Government explained privately to our Ambassador that Doumergue had exceeded his instructions on this occasion.

The preoccupation of the French Delegation with a topic not relevant to the effective prosecution of the War diverted them from the essential common effort to persuade the Emperor and his Government to take the necessary steps to set their chaotic house in order. Even the bold Buchanan had to be careful not to press his diplomatic candour too far. After the famous interview in which he had spoken plainly to the Emperor as to the danger that he might lose the confidence of his people, there came a dinner to the Inter-Allied Delegates, at which Sir George, as the doyen, sat next to the Emperor. His account of it, in a letter I have seen, is instructive. He was apprehensive as to the treatment which the Czar would accord him after the last audience, but he “was glad to find no trace of resentment at what he had said.” He then proceeds, “As I was anxious to regain my old footing with His Majesty, I was careful to keep off dangerous topics.” Such is the paralysing fear created by awe of kingship in the boldest and most accustomed minds. If the Ambassador of another and vaster Empire could not speak freely, how could one expect the poor Ministers of his will “who to-day are and to-morrow are cast into the oven” to face his wrath? The clouds and darkness that surround a throne may inspire awe, but they also obscure perils.

The efforts made by the Mission to bring pressure to bear on the Czar to set things right at the top and to coöperate with patriotic and loyal but independent Russians in doing so, were sporadic, timid and consequently unimpressive. That is why they failed. Had Milner, Doumergue and Scialoja made united and insistent representations, and declared that help would be withheld unless the Czar and his Ministers were prepared to work loyally with the Duma, the situation might have been saved.

A week after they returned to London, serious trouble broke out in Russia. There were riots in the streets and mutinies in the ships. Although Sir George Buchanan, with his clear and discerning eyes, had foreseen trouble, when it actually arrived he did not recognise it for the events he had so steadily foretold. From day to day disturbances, strikes and bread riots were reported. From day to day they appeared to get worse. The streets were thronged with workmen who struck work because they were starving. Trains were wrecked, there were conflicts with the police, and the Cossacks were called out to preserve order. Then came shots and casualties, and still there came the reassuring sentence: “If order is more or less kept to-night and to-morrow without serious loss of life, the Counsellor of the Embassy is inclined to think trouble will blow over, as it has done before.” There is certainly a proviso about “the food problem being solved” and the political problem—less important—not to be lost sight of.

On the very day of the Revolution, when the Military Attaché wired that all the Guards at Petrograd had mutinied, killed their officers, broken into the artillery departments and appropriated the guns: when mutineers were in complete control of the situation, and the soldiers without leaders or officers, we had a sentence from the Ambassador: “Excitement will probably quieten down for the present if there is no active provocation to-day.” Why not? It had all happened before and relapsed into sullen acquiescence—perhaps not in a form quite as aggravated, but still bad enough.

But there was a point when it became quite clear that this outbreak was of a different character and had attained graver dimensions than anything that had occurred in the past. The Petrograd garrison deserted the Czar. All now depended upon the Army at the Front. Were they loyal to Nicholas II? If they were, the situation could be reëstablished. For days we were in a state of doubt. As I shall point out later on, the attachment of even the superior officers to the present occupants of the Throne had been completely alienated. No one at Petrograd knew what had happened to the Czar. Two days after the Revolution had broken out, the Minister of Foreign Affairs “did not believe it would be difficult to put down the rising, as the insurgents would before long get tired out and run short of provisions.” And even M. Gutchkoff, of the Executive Committee, told Sir George Buchanan that “he did not regard the situation as desperate, if only the Emperor would follow the advice tendered to him and reconstruct the Government.”

Sir George Buchanan, wiring on March 15th to Mr. Balfour, says that “nothing is known as to where the Emperor actually is at present or as to when he is likely to arrive at Tsarskoe Selo.” He points out that “the delay may have most serious consequences, as the extreme Socialist Party is gaining ground everywhere.” They were agitating for a republic and there was a strong Peace Party in their ranks. A Provisional Government was then set up with only one Social-Democrat, Kerensky, in it, and they decided to demand the abdication of the Emperor.

The most serious factor of all was the conflict between the Duma and the Throne. Almost from the outset the soldiers and sailors took the side of the popular Assembly. In a few days the Czar had abdicated. There was some idea of appointing the Czarevitch as his successor, with the Grand Duke Michael as Regent, but the fond and anxious parents declined to put their son in that jeopardy. The Czar nominated his brother the Grand Duke Michael, but the nation declined to ratify that appointment. The Duma set up a Provisional Government, and the reign of the Romanoffs was at an end.

And then came the deluge. A deluge with an unseaworthy Ark. The timbers were rotten and most of the crew not much better. The captain was suited for a pleasure yacht in still waters, and his sailing master had been chosen by his wife, reclining in the cabin below. The rudder was seized by a disorderly rabble of counsellors, drawn at random from Duma, soldiers’, sailors’ and workers’ committees, political organisations of every colour and creed, who spent most of their time and energies in quarrelling as to the direction in which the ship ought to be sailed, until at last it was captured and sunk by a piratical crew who knew their destination.

I feel it would be impossible to explain to those who have forgotten the pre-revolutionary conditions, the attitude adopted by the British and French Governments towards the Revolutionary Governments that were set up immediately after the fall of the Czar, unless I state here some of the causes which led to the crash. Moreover, the Russian Revolution is in itself such a tremendous fact in world history that a fuller knowledge of its origin must always be of interest to every student of great human movements. As it fell to my lot to deal with it from this end, some account of its origin is not out of place in these Memoirs.

I had striven in 1915 and 1916 to induce the Allies to take steps to remove defects and deficiencies which ultimately precipitated the Revolution. The Petrograd Conference was the last—it would be more accurate to say the first—genuine organised effort made by the Allies to avert or postpone this cataclysm by removing the evils that caused its precipitation during and into the War.

The effort came much too late to save the Czar. It came too late to save Russia as an effective Ally. A similar conference after the 1915 disaster might have produced decisive results. A conference of the same character in 1916 would have effected certain imperative changes in organisation which would have enabled Russia to lumber through 1917 and, if necessary, 1918, as a still serious menace to the armies of the Central Powers, sufficiently serious to make it imprudent on their part to withdraw their good troops from the Eastern Front to France. But the recommendations of the conference were not given enough time to bring an additional waggon load of bread to the hungry queues of Petrograd.

Mr. Churchill says: “It is the shallow fashion of these times to dismiss the Czarist régime as a purblind, corrupt, incompetent tyranny.” Talking of Czarist Russia, he said, “With victory in her grasp, she fell upon the earth, devoured alive, like Herod of old, by worms.” The worms that ate into the vitals of the old régime and devoured its strength, were bred out of its own corruption. It fell because every fibre of its power, influence and authority had rotted through and through. It therefore tumbled to pieces at the first shock of insurrection. There was not enough strength left in its arm even to lift the sceptre, when its decrees were challenged by a hungry Petrograd mob.

Mr. Churchill in describing the catastrophe says, “The ship sank in sight of port.” A ludicrous picture this, made attractive only because of the glittering rhetoric in which it is framed by a great colour artist.

He continues, “She had weathered the storm.” Yes, a battered hulk, with her engines neglected and out of repair, tossed about helplessly in the breakers with a feeble and foolish captain, a scratch lot of officers, and a crew some on the brink of mutiny and the rest steeped in the spirit of discontent, rapidly fermenting into mutiny. General Castelnau thought them incapable of another offensive in the state he found them at the time of the Petrograd Conference, and he ruled out their active help during the 1917 campaign.

Mr. Churchill’s morbid detestation of the Revolution that in 1919 baffled his most ingenious military dispositions in Russia had rendered him incapable of weighing fairly the causes that led to the downfall of autocracy. The Revolution was the inevitable consequence of the failure of Czardom and not its cause. Bolshevism had practically nothing to do with the events of March, which ended in the abdication of the Czar. When the Revolution started, Lenin was a refugee in Switzerland, Trotsky was earning a precarious living as a writer on the staff of an unprofitable Communist journal in New York. The conspirators who overthrew Czardom were the Czarina and Rasputin, with the help of inept Ministers they promoted and favoured.

The unconscious head of that conspiracy was the Czar himself. For all this gigantic continent, inhabited by scores of millions of emotional but rather primitive humanity, confronted with the greatest crisis in the history of their country, there was no leader. There was only a crown without a head—a ruler who, according to Mr. Churchill, was “only a true simple man of average ability and of merciful disposition”, but who, he admits, had not the qualities fitting him for his job. He would never have been chosen by any responsible board of directors to manage any business of any magnitude, and certainly not a business confronted with a serious emergency. It was hard on him that he should have been called upon to be the supreme ruler of a gigantic country in the most terrible days that ever befell it. Moreover, Mr. Churchill’s phrase is not an exhaustive, and, in one respect, not an accurate, description of the Czar’s qualities in action. “Merciful disposition” is not strictly applicable at all times to the character of his dealings with some of the worthiest of his subjects. There are incidents in his reign for which he was directly and personally responsible, which will always cast a doubt upon his possession of the quality of mercy. The blood-stained squares of Petrograd, the howling wastes of Siberia, bore witness to other and more merciless attributes. The horror of his end tempers criticism. But if it is to remain silent it must not be provoked by truculent challenge.^[48]

Had there been no Revolution or had it been postponed, Russia could only have just pulled through by the active intervention of her Allies in formulating and carrying through a complete programme of reconstruction. Nothing else could have saved the Empire from the chaos and muddle in which it had been landed by its ruler and his minions. The Allies could not have accomplished this object had the most powerful Ministers chosen by the Czar been retained in their positions. The only hope of success was in the unequivocal surrender of his autocratic authority to the Duma, and the appointment of Ministers who had the confidence of that body and were in essence its nominees. Czarism had completely broken down in peace and war as an instrument of government for so great a country. The manhood of the nation was uneducated, illiterate and untrained for anything except the most primitive tasks by the most primitive methods. Their great natural gifts had not been developed. Every effort in that direction was regarded as a menace to autocracy. The rich natural resources of this immense country in water power, in timber and in cultivable land had only received elementary development. Its mineral wealth and its manufactures depended for their exploitation mainly on the skill of foreigners. The means of communication and transport were utterly inadequate for the needs of so vast a land, so numerous a population and so opulent a soil. How utterly the Czarist autocracy had failed in peace to make the best use of the splendid men and material at its disposal was quickly revealed by the ruthless hand of war.

What was the result? The facts are well known; they have been told by reputable men of every shade of opinion, who had a horror of Bolshevism, its principles and its methods. A virtuous and well-meaning Sovereign became directly responsible for a régime drenched in corruption, indolence, debauchery, favouritism, jealousy, sycophancy, idolatry, incompetence and treachery—an accumulation of all those vices that make for utter misgovernment and inevitably end in anarchy. Too narrow a definition of virtue has many a time been responsible for a multitude of errors and mischiefs. The tragedies of Charles I of England and Louis XVI of France, now reinforced by the downfall of Nicholas II of Russia, afford terrible illustrations of that truth.

The men who gave the Russian Revolution its first impulse were not the Bolsheviks, but disgusted aristocrats and bourgeois—princes, merchants and lawyers. Then followed the riots of the half-starved workers and the mutiny of the soldiers and the sailors. But they had endured their miseries for years without a murmur. Rodzianko, the President of the Duma and the head and front of the constitutional movement, was the Emperor’s Chamberlain. He was an aristocrat, a considerable landowner, and an officer of the Household Cavalry. Prince Lvoff belonged to the same class. Miliukoff was a Conservative lawyer and Gutchkoff was a manufacturer. They all belonged to the propertied classes. They were devoutly attached to the Monarchy, but they belonged to that Russian intelligentsia which, ever since the days of Alexander I, had believed in a constitutional rather than an autocratic sovereignty. They were more conservative in their fundamental attitude towards social and economic questions than the leaders of Disraelian Toryism who were my colleagues in the War Cabinet. Had the Czar been endowed with the wisdom to make the moderate concession they asked for, he might still have been the proud sovereign of a victorious, powerful and prosperous empire. It was his stubborn clutching at an unchecked authority that he was less qualified to wield than almost any of his predecessors, which antagonised solid and reliable elements in his Empire and drove them into the despair of Revolution.

Kerensky, the Socialist who followed, represented a new and more advanced phase of opinion than the Duma had done. He was a lawyer of bureaucratic lineage, who held moderate Socialist opinions. It was the Bolsheviks who later on converted an accomplished revolution into a subversive reality. Whether it will develop into a constructive triumph, history, which is in the making, alone will tell. But the first impetus which started the wild whirl of Russian autocracy down the slopes of revolution came from misgovernment so intolerable that loyal Imperialists (outside the governing clique) could no longer endure its continuance. It is a fatal hour for monarchy when men and women who are both patriotic and loyal are compelled to choose between Throne and Country. It is that choice which destroyed Czardom. Rasputin and Protopopoff were the most effective propagandists for revolution, and not Lenin. Lenin was the exploiter: Rasputin was the originator. He was a man of the people, and even his lurid obscenities served them well, for they rotted the last strand of the bonds that held down the Russian toilers from whom he had sprung. They rose from bondage to power, and as is the wont of reactionaries, transferred their concentrated miseries to their oppressors.

I asked a distinguished Russian refugee whom I recently met, what or who, in his opinion, was most responsible for the fall of Czarism. His reply was: Rasputin. Why was that so. He led no armies, he intervened in no military movements. He did not meddle with transport or the manufacture of munitions, nor did he directly interfere with those who directed these operations of war. How came he, then, to be the malignant influence that was the chief agent in precipitating chaos? It is a unique story in the annals of squalid tragedy. Probably the whole truth has not yet been revealed.

Rasputin was a religious satyr of hypnotic powers. He established indirect dominion over a highly domesticated autocrat through the control he acquired over a perfectly virtuous consort by means which are entirely creditable to her as an affectionate mother. Rasputin repeatedly saved her son, the heir to the throne, from death by his remarkable mesmeric gifts. Thenceforward his sway over the Court was unchallengeable. His orgies of unbridled lust were disbelieved or ignored by his Imperial patrons. This evil monster could do no evil in their sight. The relations which won the sinister libertine power over this simple and pure-minded couple he preserved to the end of the great tragedy. A whisper from his libidinous lips into the ear of the infatuated Czarina, passed on to her fond but feeble husband, was enough to undermine confidence in the most loyal and serviceable officials, civil or military. Any one who protested against the régime of ineptitude and turpitude that was driving Russia into the abyss was liable to be suspected and ultimately removed on a word from Rasputin. His selections for removal or promotion were impelled not by questions of disservice or usefulness to the Empire, but of hostility or servility displayed towards himself. “Whom he would, he set up, and whom he would, he put down.” Honest and capable but intractable Ministers he put down, and worthless Ministers were substituted. He must have been a man of exceptional qualities, for in spite of his loathsome debauchery he held converse on equal terms with statesmen of unchallengeable capacity and character. He was on friendly terms even with a man of the high repute of Count Witte. And he exerted undoubted influence over many virtuous priests, some of high, some of lowly rank, who believed in the saintliness of his life and leadership. He was possessed of an uncanny discernment of men, women and events. When War was declared, he had retired to his village in a remote Siberian province. As soon as he heard that hostilities were imminent, he sent a message to the Czar, warning him not to permit Sazonov and the Grand Duke Nicholas to persuade him to embark on a conflict with Germany, as it would inevitably end in the downfall of the Empire. He imbued the Czarina with the idea that the safety of her children lay not in a doubtful and precarious victory at the end of a prolonged war; but in peace at the earliest opportunity. Her apprehension bred hesitancies which must have been communicated to her all-powerful husband. She therefore viewed with distrust all those who were intent on prosecuting the War to the unknown end. This mental or rather nervous attitude originated and gave colour to the rumour universally believed in Russia, that she was at heart a pro-German. There was no foundation for that suspicion. Some time after her deposition she was reported to have said to one of the friendliest of her guards, “They said I was pro-German; I hate the Germans. I am English. I speak English and I love England.”

But the pacifism of Rasputin was not what constituted the principal factor in the downfall of the Empire. There was another and a still more potent reason. Rasputin destroyed that idolatrous reverence which surrounded the person as well as the throne of the Czar, and which was essential to sustain the spirit of endurance and sacrifice which alone could carry the nation through a succession of calamitous defeats accompanied by unparalleled loss of young lives. As the War went wrong, the Czar’s power came to depend more upon fear than upon worship. As long as that fear remained, his authority was paramount. Then came the death of Rasputin to shatter the delusion of his irresistible power. The assassination of his intimate friend by men who boasted openly of their crime without any one daring to punish them extinguished the lightnings of authority. Dread of the thunders of Imperial Jove quickly disappeared, once their futility was exposed. In his lifetime Rasputin undermined all respect for the Czar. In death he swept away the last remnant of fear of that potentate. The bullet that killed him penetrated the heart of Czarism. He predicted not only his own violent death, but also that his murder would bring down the Empire in less than six months. And so it did.

The Czar was insane with anger at the murder, and stimulated by his wife he sank into a mood of infatuated hostility against all those who did not attempt to conceal their delight at the event. It widened the already yawning crevasse between him and the intelligentsia which was represented by the Duma. The Duma had at its first meetings exhibited a flaming enmity towards Rasputin. Through Rodzianko it had made representations to the Czar about the danger of harbouring him any longer at the Palace. The Duma leaders rejoiced ostentatiously in his violent removal. The Czar’s fury was therefore concentrated on them, and he turned a sullen face and a deaf ear to all their wise counsel. On the other hand, the crazy Protopopoff, who affected to be in occult converse with the spirit of the departed prophet, was listened to with a new respect and an increased deference. The influence of Rasputin was more potent and pernicious than ever after his death. In life he was a shrewd villain, but when his ideas had to pass through an imbecile they partook of the addled quality of the medium’s brain.

What about the Army?

The night that the news of the murder of the Court favourite reached the Army, every officer toasted the assassins amidst scenes of savage joy. The Czar of all the Russias was flouted by the leaders of his people and by the officers of his Army. With the fall of Rasputin fell the autocracy of the Romanoffs, and it fell without a friend to regret the dismissal of its last representative.

Photo. by Exclusive News Agency

RASPUTIN

The old Russia was Czarism. In no land was the mystic power and authority of kingship so potent and so pervasive. Nowhere has kingly power much reference to the particular occupant of the throne for the time being. A great monarch at distant intervals preserves and infuses new vitality into, and strengthens and prolongs the life of this indefinable influence, but on his death it passes on to and through worthless successors. How few really great Sovereigns has Europe seen during the last two centuries, and how many commonplace and inept specimens has it endured during the same period! In this country Queen Victoria was a remarkable personality, but she was no more firmly established on the throne than was her dissolute and worthless uncle, George the Fourth. In a Constitutional Monarchy the weaknesses of the Sovereign can be checked or controlled by Parliament. That takes away from his personal power but adds to his personal security. With an autocracy, however, deposition, which in Russia meant assassination, was the only corrective. As long as Nicholas II remained Czar of all the Russias, then all the Russians obeyed his decrees, whether they approved of them or not. Approval was immaterial to the validity of the ukase. In the Czar was vested all the powers of King, Cabinet and Legislature. That is why the only effective opposition in Russia took the form of a conspiracy against the occupant of the Throne. Hence the military plot to remove Czar Nicholas and substitute another Emperor. The conspirators meant to follow precedent by changing Czars; they blundered into a change of systems.

The facts which have been revealed since the Revolution clear up a situation which at that time was obscure. The rumours which filled the air, and which were heard by the well-chaperoned members of the Inter-Allied Delegation, were rooted in a subsoil of undoubted conspiracy. The Army Chiefs had already practically decided to depose the Czar. All the Generals are supposed to have been in it. The Chief of the Staff, General Alexeieff, was certainly in the plot; Russky, Ivanoff and Brussiloff were also sympathetic. When the question of getting rid of the Czar was put to the latter, he is reported to have said, “If I have to choose between the Czar and my country, I shall decide for the latter.” The temper of the officers of the Army was made clear in those exuberant demonstrations when the news came of the murder of Rasputin. As a further proof of the complicity of the Army Chiefs, there is the fact that the regiments left at Petrograd were composed of young recruits only just called up from works, seething with discontent, led by officers inadequate in numbers, broken down through wounds and ill health, many of them only just discharged from hospitals. One of the most level-headed of the Russian refugees whom I met was convinced that this was deliberately arranged by highly placed Generals who were preparing the coup d’état, in order to ensure that it should not be suppressed before it became effective. They had resolved to get rid of Nicholas II. It is significant that when the news of the outbreak at Petrograd reached General Headquarters, and the Czar immediately returned to his capital to take command, he was detained at Pskow by General Russky. The crisis exploded prematurely, owing to an unexpected outbreak amongst the miserable standing army of the bread queues who could bear their wretchedness no longer, and it detonated before the military fuse was quite ready to be fired. The explosion blew up Czardom, but it also incidentally shattered the well-organised plot of the Generals. The fire which broke out too soon got beyond the control of those who had laid the train. Instead of a well-ordered coup d’état of Generals, directed from Headquarters and following well-established tradition, there was substituted an insurrection of the proletariat with no precedent to guide its course except the French Revolution.

The evidence on which I base the foregoing conclusions as to the causes of the revolution, are drawn almost exclusively from official reports which I have in my possession.

It was not a sudden and unexpected eruption of a mountain that had given no warning or shown no symptoms of disturbance. Every visitor to Russia from 1915 onwards heard the rumbling and felt the ground trembling under his feet. Here are extracts from a letter which I received in November, 1915, from Sir Ian Malcolm, who was then Conservative M.P. for Croydon. He was touring Russia from north to south in connection with the Red Cross:

A careful and considered report on the situation came from the pen of Professor Bernard Pares, a distinguished scholar who knew Russia and Russian thoroughly. He visited Petrograd in 1915 as Official Correspondent with the Russian Army, and on his return presented to the Government a very remarkable account of the state of things in Russia. It has not yet been published and is an impartial and at the same time a vivid and accurate picture, and so prophetic a forecast of the wrath to come that it is worth quoting at some length as an explanation of the causes which generated the trouble.

After conference with leading members of a committee selected by the Sovereign from members of the two Legislative Houses and of the Moscow Munitions Committee, Professor Pares was requested to submit for the consideration of the authorities in Great Britain certain suggestions. Here is one of them. It has a special significance because it reappeared in the demand made upon the Allied Delegation in February, 1917, by both the Army and the Duma leaders. It was, in essence, a demand that the vaunted “common front” should be made a reality:

Here is Professor Pares’ note on the request:

Existing fact? At that date, the summer of the great retreat (1915), we had supplied the Russians with hardly any munitions. The report continues:

Here is an extract from a letter written about this date to Professor Pares by Mr. Nicholas Homyakov, formerly President of the Russian Duma.

I have no recollection that Sir Edward Grey, to whom these communications were addressed, took any step to bring this important message to the notice of the British Cabinet. He took refuge in that aloofness that detached him from all concern for the efficient conduct of a war he had advised the Government to declare.

Professor Pares writes later on, in September, 1916, to give amongst other things an account of the suspicions attaching to the Jews in Russia. He then proceeds:

Apologists for the ancient régime urge that the efforts that were put forth by the Russian Government to remedy the defects which led to the calamities of 1915 had completely changed the situation, so that the real justification for the Revolution had long ago disappeared. The answer to these contentions is to be found in some of the reports I have already quoted as to the appalling conditions both at the front and in the Russian towns during the winter of 1916-1917. The Czar in the autumn of 1915, with his confidence unnerved by calamity, was in a mood to make terms with the popular leaders in Petrograd, Moscow and the provinces. The Duma was called into consultation and as an essential condition of their coöperation, reactionary Ministers like Sukhomlinoff, the Secretary for War, were reluctantly, and after considerable pressure from their Liberal colleagues, dismissed and men of more liberal views were substituted. The Zemstvos, representing all classes of the community, including workmen, were also mobilised for assistance, and voluntary committees were set up in all parts of the Empire to raise and provide essentials for the Army. A great deal of useful work was done in the way of organising an increased supply of munitions, and it looked as if the Czar and his people would henceforth work together to a victorious end. Then reactionary influences once more asserted themselves. The men who had failed so conspicuously to provide equipment for the Army regarded the effort made by unofficial bodies to supply deficiencies for which they were responsible as a censure upon their own maladministration. The spectacle of an energy which they never displayed, and of efforts which they never put forth, being made by others, in a sphere which they regarded as peculiarly their own, became unendurable. That was an experience which was by no means confined to Russia. We passed through it in Britain, but there the authority of Parliament was paramount, and in the last resort any Minister who was prepared to stand up on behalf of the nation against professional incompetence was bound to secure constitutional support, which was omnipotent in a country where constitutional government was established. That was not the case in Russia, where, as the Czar assured General Hanbury-Williams, his word was final. That the reactionaries knew only too well, so they used all the means and agencies with which they were only too familiar, to capture that Imperial word. Gradually they succeeded. They ultimately paid the penalty of their success, but unfortunately they entangled multitudes of better men and women in the ruin which they had wrought. They resolved to use the first opportunity that presented itself to thwart the demonstrations of irregular and unprofessional activity which were producing supplies which they had failed to provide, and which were a constant rebuke to their incapacity and corruption. They found that opportunity when the Czar removed from the capital to command the Army in the field. It was a task for which he was utterly unfitted by capacity and experience. All the Czar’s Ministers unanimously entreated him not to undertake this position. The Prime Minister on their behalf represented to him that it might well be fatal to the Empire, having regard to the inferiority of equipment in his Army. Every defeat would henceforth be inflicted not on the Russian Army but on the Russian throne and would inevitably diminish its prestige amongst his people. The Czar rudely brushed this protest aside by informing Goremykin, the Prime Minister, that it was none of the business of Ministers to consider or decide that question. It was entirely a matter for himself. Goremykin informed him that all the Ministers had decided to resign if he took command of the Army in the field. He replied that they had no right to give up their posts in the middle of a great war, and that he insisted upon their remaining.

Nevertheless, the reactionaries urged his acceptance of this responsibility, which they knew only too well would not be additional but alternative to his other functions. As soon as he left Petrograd, he was no longer in contact with events or with those who controlled them behind the lines. Once he was removed from Petrograd and from daily contact with the more liberal-minded amongst his Ministers, mischief and intrigue had full play. At Headquarters he was so overwhelmed with the details of his gigantic task—a task which would have been a whole-time job for a bigger mind than his—that he was unable to inform himself as to what was happening in the vast country behind the front. That was the opportunity of the intriguers of the Court, including the Empress and her spiritual confessor. The Czar’s mind was filled with suspicions about the Duma, the municipalities, and the Munition Committees upon which workmen were represented. Rasputin, through the Empress, worked upon these suspicions. The Duma was adjourned. Independent Ministers were gradually eliminated. Inefficient Ministers like Sturmer, with pro-German sympathies, and weak-headed Ministers under the influence of Rasputin like Protopopoff, were left in control of affairs. As soon as the panic of 1915 had subsided, reaction once more resumed its sway. The recommendations made by the Duma and the Municipal Committees for Reforms and Improvements in organisation and control, were ignored one after another, until by the end of 1916 matters were in a worse state than ever before. In the winter of 1916-1917, when conditions were becoming alarming and all intelligent Russians who were not dazzled by the splendour of autocracy foresaw impending disaster, the Duma appointed a committee to investigate causes and to suggest remedies for the trouble of the nation. I quote a few passages from the evidence that was given before this Committee by men of moderate views whose loyalty to the Czar was beyond doubt or dispute.

To this reasonable proposal the Czar refused acceptance.

This testimony does not bear out the theory that Czardom had overcome Russia’s worst difficulties, and that the country had emerged into a period of growing efficiency just at the moment when the Czar was stricken down by a felon blow. Things were going from bad to worse, as far as the internal conditions of every belligerent country were concerned. But in Russia there was no one in authority who had the capacity to handle the aggravating crisis. Those who were competent were ruled out of authority by the Head of the State, who was the fountainhead of all official power in Russia. In these circumstances Revolution was not only inevitable—it was imperative.

This will explain the attitude adopted towards the news of the Revolution by the leaders of all parties in the House of Commons. On Sir George Buchanan’s advice the Cabinet decided to recognise the new Government. On the 16th it was known in Petrograd that the Emperor had abdicated, and soldiers marched through the town “tearing down the Imperial Eagles.”

When the Revolution was an accomplished fact, the British Cabinet considered its attitude towards the Russian Provisional Government and decided to invite the House of Commons to send a resolution of fraternal greeting to the Duma. There is no more painful and difficult problem for a man than to know what to do with a good friend who has made a thorough mess of a concern in which they are jointly concerned. If you do not stand by him, you feel you are abandoning a loyal comrade in his trouble. If you do, then what is left is inevitably lost. Luckily this question did not arise. The Czar had already abdicated. There was therefore no question of personal disloyalty to one who had stood faithfully by the Allies through good and evil report. Mr. Bonar Law, as leader of the House of Commons, on March 22nd, moved the following Resolution in the House of Commons:

In supporting that resolution he made use of words which faithfully represented the feeling of every party in the House of Commons and in the country towards the changes which had taken place in the Government of a great Allied people:

As Mr. Asquith, who seconded, well said:

On March 24th I wired the following message to Prince Lvoff, the new Russian Premier:

I stand by every word of that declaration to-day.

A few days later, Sir George Buchanan wired to Mr. Balfour:

We all felt, nevertheless, that Mr. Bonar Law was bound to utter the sentiments he expressed about the Czar and that his words had been well and wisely chosen.

There was no doubt that the Russian Revolution was an accomplished fact, but it was by no means completed. It was quite clear in the first few days that this Revolution was to follow the usual course of all revolutions. The Government might decree, but it was the Jacobins that determined the course of events; deep was calling unto deep, and already the answer was beginning to resound on the surface.

Before concluding this chapter on the tragic end of the Czarist régime in Russia, I must refer to the causes which prevented the Imperial family from gaining an asylum in this country and escaping the final horror of the Ekaterinberg cellar. Several writers have alleged that the determining factor was a refusal on the part of the British Government to permit the Czar to take refuge here. That is untrue. The fact is that at no time between his abdication and his murder was he free to leave Russia. An invitation to take refuge here was extended by the British Crown and Government. The Czar was unable in the event to avail himself of it, even had he been anxious to do so—and of that we had no evidence.

That statement is amply corroborated by the official records. Not all of them, even at this interval of time, am I free to publish. But I propose to quote such extracts from them as will give the reader an accurate picture of the march of events in relation to this painful episode.

On March 19th, 1917, a telegram arrived from our Ambassador in Russia, Sir George Buchanan, saying that M. Miliukoff had asked him whether he knew of any arrangements being made for the Czar to go to England. To this he had replied in the negative. Two days later he wired us again as follows:

On the following day, March 22nd, the question of allowing the Russian Imperial Family to come to this country was discussed at the Imperial War Cabinet, and it was decided that in the interests of his personal safety, it was of the first importance that the Czar should leave Russia at the earliest possible date. On a review of the political considerations involved, and more particularly of the desirability of avoiding the risk of his being exposed to hostile intrigue in the event of residence in neutral countries, we reached the conclusion that the best plan would be to invite the Czar, together with the Empress and their family, to take up residence in this country, on the distinct understanding that they should not leave this country during the War except with the consent of the British Government.

Accordingly the Imperial War Cabinet “authorised the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs to send a telegram in this sense to the British Ambassador at Petrograd.”

Mr. Balfour, therefore, wired to Sir George Buchanan:

To which Sir George Buchanan replied:

Already there appears in the foregoing telegram a warning about the opposition inside Russia to the idea of letting the Czar leave the country being so strong as to delay decision on this point. On the following day a further telegram from Buchanan again insisted upon this.

On March 26th, the Ambassador made a further reference in a cable to the Czar’s departure for England and added that he and General Hanbury-Williams concurred in the opinion that if it were settled for the Emperor to make the journey, General Headlam might go with him. He adds:

On April 2nd, Sir George Buchanan wrote to the Foreign Secretary in the following strain:

Owing to the illness of the Grand Duchesses (they had measles, and two of them were very ill for some time) nothing could at that moment be done in the matter of the removal of the Imperial family. Before this delay had ceased to operate, a fresh hindrance arose. On April 9th, Sir George Buchanan wired us reporting a conversation he had held with M. Kerensky, in the course of which he had asked if anything was yet settled about the Emperor. M. Kerensky had replied:

The Ambassador further told us in this wire that he had pleaded for permission to hand the Empress Marie some letters for her from her sister, Queen Alexandra, but had been begged by Kerensky not to do so, as if the Government allowed it they would be charged by the extremists with encouraging intrigues.

It was clear from this cable that the net around the Imperial family was being drawn tighter, and that feeling was already hardening in Russia against the policy of allowing the Czar to leave Russia. M. Kerensky was obviously not prepared to accept the responsibility of permitting the Czar to leave Russia at that date.

On receipt of Sir George Buchanan’s telegram, the War Cabinet conferred about the matter. The difficulty of keeping our invitation open was growing. Opinion in France was opposed to the Czar taking up his residence in any Allied country. It was felt there that it might tend to create a feeling of suspicion amongst the revolutionary elements in Russia, whose support was essential for the effective coöperation of the Russian Army in the War. To illustrate and confirm this statement as to the French attitude, I may quote a letter written on April 22nd by Lord Bertie, our Ambassador in Paris, to the Foreign Secretary, in which he expressed satisfaction that the proposal to welcome the ex-Emperor and his family in England had not materialised, and said that:

An agitation had also started in this country, which indicated that there was a strong feeling in extensive working-class circles, hostile to the Czar coming to Great Britain. However, the invitation was not withdrawn. The ultimate issue in the matter was decided by the action of the Russian Government, which continued to place obstacles in the way of the Czar’s departure.

On April 15th, 1917, Sir George Buchanan wired us at some length about the situation. He expressed grave doubts about the wisdom of bringing the Czar to England, and said he had asked the Russian Premier on the previous day why they would not let the Emperor go to Livadia, his palace in the Crimea, where it would surely be easy both to isolate and to protect him. The Premier

But on this prospect, the Ambassador noted that

and he suggested that it would be better if the Emperor went to France. On the following day he sent us a letter in which he said he had suggested to Prince Lvoff that the Czar should be allowed to go to Livadia; but the Prince had expressed the fear that the train would be held up by workmen and the Czar’s life endangered.

It was in fact clear that the Russian Government was held irresolute by divided counsels—anxious on the one hand to be quit of responsibility for the Czar, and on the other, dreading the anger of the extreme Left Wing if an attempt were made to remove him to safety. They dared not attempt to transfer him even to the comfortable Crimea. Much less were they prepared to take the risk of trying to send him out of the country. Nothing could be done about it unless the Russian Government changed their attitude.

Sir George Buchanan, in his book “My Mission to Russia”, sums up the matter when he says that:

That statement, as the extracts I have quoted show, sums up the real history of the issue. The end was tragedy, the details of which will horrify endless generations of mankind. But for that tragedy this country cannot be in any way held responsible.

At the beginning of 1917, the entry of the United States into the War seemed more remote and improbable than at any time since the first outbreak of world hostilities. Although the bulk of public opinion in the States was all along pro-Ally, its attitude was one of detached and bored sympathy rather than of any strong desire to join in the conflict on our side. As the months of the War lengthened into years, and the struggle developed into a confusing scrimmage out of which nothing emerged but a growing mass of crushed, bruised and blood-stained humanity, pro-Ally sentiment tended to settle down resignedly into a rut of benevolent but horrified neutrality. America was prospering more and more by the conflict, but getting less and less reconciled to battening on the ghastly heap of bleeding horror. The best wanted peace as soon as a reasonably satisfactory one could be patched up.

The presidential election at the beginning of November, 1916, emphasised this attitude. Woodrow Wilson secured his reëlection on the slogan that he was the man who kept America out of the European slaughterhouse. Theodore Roosevelt, the one leading figure in the States who was openly and emphatically in favour of intervention on the Allied side, felt himself to be in so small a minority that he did not attempt to secure nomination. Hughes, who stood against Wilson as the Republican nominee, was anxious to secure the German-American vote, and that of such stray Irishmen as might wander from the Democratic fold. He therefore took care to dissociate himself from the fiery expressions of his more famous, but less timorous, co-Republican. The possibility of entry into the War was not an issue in the presidential election. Both candidates ostentatiously dissociated themselves from the idea. Here is a letter from a prominent and well-informed American sent to me by the late Sir Gilbert Parker, the well-known Canadian novelist who organised Intelligence from America for the British Government, which gives a fair summary of the Allied view of the election.

This was an accurate summary of the position as it stood, or at least as it appeared to discerning eyes, at and immediately after the election. But it is almost a classic example of the happening of the unexpected. Here was an election fought when both parties were convinced that the idea of intervention in the War was universally unpopular. The only contention between them in their rival appeals was as to which of them was the less likely to be tempted to join in the fray. Hughes’ friends said that he loved the Germans more than Wilson did. Wilson replied by pointing to the fact that he had already successfully kept the country out of war for over two years. Who would have predicted at that date that Germany would have deliberately provoked the pacific and hesitating Wilson to gird on his sword and after an interval to unsheathe it? Colonel House records that on November 14th, 1916, President Wilson was planning to use his newly confirmed authority to propose peace negotiations—a course which House opposed, because he felt that Germany would, at this stage, insist on terms which America could not recommend to the Allies, and that any attempt to force peace at this stage would be playing the game of German militarism. The President took a different view. He earnestly wished for peace and was anxious to precipitate negotiations.

I have told already how the Kaiser irritated the President by forestalling him with a German Peace Note, and how Wilson issued his own Note six days later, fearful lest the Allies should close the door to negotiations before he could get in his appeal to them. In face of the tenor of the German Note, arrogant and confident, which showed clearly that the only terms the Germans would contemplate would be terms based on the assumption of substantial victory already achieved by them, President Wilson’s intervention emphasises his painful anxiety for peace at any price.

A further proof of the fact that President Wilson was up to the last determined not to contemplate any departure from neutrality is afforded by the total lack of any sort or kind of military or naval preparation for the possible contingency of war. His view was that a messenger of peace should only be armed with an olive branch, not realising that a whole grove of olives at that stage of the War would make no impression on either side unless the combatants knew that guns were hidden by the foliage. This is the more noteworthy, since as far back as April 18th, 1916, after the sinking of the Sussex by a German submarine, the President had found himself compelled to address an ultimatum to Germany, in which he had declared that:

Germany had on that occasion climbed down to the extent of stating that she was ordering her submarines not to sink merchantmen without warning, and without saving human lives, unless the ship attempted to escape or offer resistance. But her covering Note stated clearly that she made this concession merely as a matter of expediency, reserving in principle her right to resume grimmer methods if she thought it would pay her to do so. If the United States failed to induce Britain to abandon her blockade of Germany, “the German Government would then be facing a new situation in which it must reserve itself complete liberty of decision.”

It is incomprehensible why Wilson took no measures to strengthen the naval and military forces of America when two things must have been made clear to him by the course of the War.

The President had already been driven to issue one ultimatum to Germany and he had also sent repeated warnings to the Allies about their interference with his cargoes. Yet through the intervening months he took no steps whatever, despite Colonel House’s frequent urgings, to prepare the country so that a threat of intervention by her might not ring hollow. A movement had sprung up in the States for “national preparedness”, of which the chief advocate was the National Security League, that carried on a vigorous publicity campaign on behalf of military training. But Mr. Wilson withheld his blessing from the movement, and it gradually fizzled out. He honestly thought that he was serving the cause of Peace by an ostentatious display of his impotence for war. Had he issued no threats, there was an exalted precedent for his demeanour. But he did not turn the other cheek to the smiter, he just rushed to his typewriting machine to record his feelings about the blow. Such an attitude was neither divine nor dignified. In effect, his action prolonged the War by its most destructive years. The attitude of the President was such as to breed in Germany the not unnatural conviction that while there might be limits to America’s neutrality, there was no fear that even if she declared war, she would or could really fight. Wilson, if annoyed, would simply put a little more sulphur in his ink: that would be all. He had no troops, no guns, no airplanes, only a portable typewriting machine which clicked harmlessly and heedlessly. In 1916, a big addition to the Navy was voted by Congress; but the programme was to be spread over several years, and no part of it had materialised when America actually entered the War in 1917. They had not built a single additional torpedo boat to protect their own shipping. No steps were taken to increase the Army in numbers or effectiveness.

The failure of the German and Wilson Peace Notes brought no change in the President’s attitude. Throughout the last weeks of 1916 and the month of January, 1917, omens were increasing that a ruthless intensification of the German submarine warfare was in prospect. Yet on January 4th, 1917, Colonel House records that Wilson declared to him: “There will be no war. This country does not intend to become involved in this War.” Refusal to contemplate the growing danger of being driven into war had become with him not an issue of fact but an article of religious faith.

On January 22nd, 1917, President Wilson made his famous “Peace without Victory” speech to Congress. Dealing with his own peace move of December and its outcome, he developed in this speech his ideas as to the kind of peace settlement America would support. From first to last his speech contained no hint that America could possibly be drawn into the struggle. On the contrary, he suggested that while the conclusion of peace was not far away (“We are much nearer a definite discussion of the peace which will end the present War”), it would be one in settling the terms of which the United States, as a non-combatant, would be able to take no part. “We shall have no voice,” he declared, “in determining what those terms shall be.”

He outlined the main principles of what he would regard as a desirable and lasting peace, on lines which foreshadowed his subsequent “Fourteen Points.” He proposed a concert of the nations, general disarmament, the independence of a united Poland, democratic Governments, universal civil and religious liberty, self-determination of the peoples, freedom of the seas. And of these ideas, he asserted that “They imply, first of all, that it must be a peace without victory.” He never condescended to explain how he thought Poland could be freed and self-determination won for the subject races of Turkey, Austria and Germany, without victory, and Allied victory. Without an Allied triumph, there was no faintest hope of realising any of the ideals he was advancing so eloquently. Germany was in possession of vast territories, much of which she had no intention of surrendering after the War—some of which she did not intend to restore without imposing conditions of practical vassalage. To talk of self-determination of the peoples, an independent Poland, democratic Governments, universal liberty, with an undefeated Imperial Germany was a mockery. Peace without victory? The President’s detachment from realities was more than ever obvious. To the Allies the phrase was an offence—to the Germans a jest.

Nine days later, his balloon was shot down by a German shell. On January 31st, 1917, the German Ambassador, Von Bernstorff, handed to Mr. Lansing, the American Secretary of State, a letter announcing that:

Attached to the letter were two memoranda, one of which stated in the following terms that Germany would no longer be bound by the pledge she had given America after the sinking of the Sussex, to practise her submarine warfare subject to humane restrictions:

The second memorandum set out closer details of the areas within which vessels would be sunk without warning, and made the concession that if the United States were prepared to carry out certain elaborate arrangements dictated by Germany, they might send one ship a week as far as Falmouth without having it sunk.

This was a bitter blow to the President. Not only did it smash all his hopes of remaining on good neutral terms with both belligerent sides, but it more than hinted that Germany was contemptuous of America’s power. She had made her calculation and concluded that the United States were so impotent for effective intervention that they would be less dangerous to her as an enemy she could disregard, than as a neutral with authority to hold up her submarine campaign. Germany reckoned that six months of unrestricted submarine warfare would force Britain to her knees, and that America would be unable to intervene actively on the Allied side for a year. Long before then, the War would have been won. If a German peace had not been attained by that time, America would be safely isolated, for there would be no shipping available to transport her Armies to the battle area.

In addition, Bernstorff wrote a private letter to Colonel House,^[50] apprising him of the German Government’s decision, and confiding to him in general outline the peace terms which Germany would consider—terms which showed what “a Peace without Victory” would have brought to Europe. He explained that these were not being made public, because “our enemies have published such terms which aim at the dishonour and destruction of Germany and her allies. My Government considers that as long as our enemies openly proclaim such terms, it would show weakness, which does not exist, on our part, if we publish our terms, and we would in so doing only prolong the War.”

The German Peace terms were such as only a complete German victory could wring out of defeated Allies. Bluntly, they amounted to a demand for German suzerainty over a dismantled and defenceless Belgium; annexation of the iron mines of French Lorraine; parts of Russia and all Poland to be incorporated in the German Empire; and an indemnity from France to cover “financial losses.” In addition to that, the Allies were to cover all German commercial losses through the War; there was to be a return of all the captured German colonies and cession of further colonial territory by ourselves and our Allies; and similar restitutions, concessions and indemnities to Austria, Turkey, and Bulgaria. It was the detailed and explicit interpretation of the arrogant note in the German Peace Despatch.

The President’s course now was clear. The Allied terms approximated to his Fourteen Points. The German conditions traversed his principles at every section. And these conditions were accompanied by a threat to sink his ships at sight. His only choice was between a break with Germany and abject surrender. In view of the statements he had made to Germany in his ultimatum after the Sussex incident, their blunt repudiation of the undertaking then given, and their declaration of ruthless and indiscriminate submarine warfare, there was no option but to sever diplomatic relations.

Accordingly, on February 3rd, 1917, President Wilson appeared before Congress, and after recapitulating the recent course of negotiations, announced:

Yet the President’s hopes died hard, for he proceeded while deploring the attitude of the German Government, to assert that notwithstanding their action,

At the same time he felt himself compelled to sound a warning note, in a final forlorn hope of deterring Germany from driving him from his neutral position. If American ships and lives were in fact sacrificed by German submarines, he said:

President Wilson’s announcements were warmly approved by public opinion in the United States. But they were not followed by any preparation for action. The President excused his inaction by a statement that he would give Germany no provocation which would deter her from reconsidering her threat.

A graphic description of that state of things in America at this time was given in the following letter from our Ambassador in the States, Sir Cecil Spring-Rice:

As this letter shows, the situation in America was rapidly becoming impossible. The President was waiting for Germany to declare herself by some “overt act” which would serve as a pretext for resolving his perplexities. Meantime American shipping congestion grew worse and important branches of commerce and industry were at a standstill. The President, however, was reluctant to take any action which would look as if he contemplated war.

Germany quickly showed that she was in no way deterred by Wilson’s vague menace of further action from carrying out her policy of unrestricted sinking. Indeed, on the very day when the President was delivering his address to Congress, an American vessel, the Housatonic, was sunk by a submarine, and it was followed to the bottom ten days later by the Lyman M. Law. But a more serious result, both to American merchants and to British imports, was the extent to which the German submarine threat kept United States vessels in harbour.

On February 26th, 1917, President Wilson appeared before Congress and asked its sanction for the arming of United States merchantmen. Diplomatic means of safeguarding American rights, he said, had broken down, and

The House of Representatives carried the Bill to accord these powers with an overwhelming majority. But in the Senate a group of twelve Senators, led by Senators Stone and La Follette, took advantage of the rules of the House and of the fact that Congress was adjourning on March 4th, to block and hold up the Bill so that the House could not come to a vote on it. The immense majority of the Senators supported it, and seventy-five of them signed a manifesto desiring it to be recorded that the Senate favoured the proposed legislation and would have carried it if a vote could have been secured.

Several events occurred at about this time to stir public opinion in the States, and to stiffen the President’s resolve. The first of these was in connection with Mexico. President Wilson had been in trouble throughout a good part of his administrative course with this country, and latterly the Germans had been fomenting trouble there in order to harass and preoccupy the American Government and keep its hands too full for it to intervene in Europe. They were suspected of stimulating General Villa to his insurrection in the spring of 1916, which forced the States to intervene with an armed force in Mexico and to call out the National Guard to line the frontier.

On January 19th, 1917, Zimmermann, the German Foreign Secretary, sent a secret note to Von Eckhardt, the German Minister in Mexico, in the following terms:

This telegram was intercepted and deciphered by the British Naval Intelligence, the head of which, Admiral Hall, set up a special Department under Ewart (of the British Diplomatic Service) and a staff of University dons, who organised and conducted this Department with brilliant success during the War, and developed an uncanny efficiency in the unearthing of German secrets. The contents of the telegram were quietly communicated on February 26th to the American Government, and although Wilson was rather doubtful about publishing it, fearing it might over-excite popular feeling, it was given to the Press on February 28th. It roused a great deal of indignation in the States and strongly reinforced the popular backing for strong measures by the President.

On February 27th, while the Bill to arm merchantmen was before Congress, the Cunarder Laconia was sunk without warning, and two American women lost their lives. On March 12th, the American S.S. Algonquin was sunk without warning, and on the same day the Secretary of State, Mr. Lansing, issued an announcement that the American Government had decided to place an armed guard upon all American ships passing through the danger zone. Thus the advance to “armed neutrality” proposed by the President on February 26th was definitely made. The further inevitable step to open hostilities was merely a matter of time—dependent upon Wilson’s choice of the decisive “overt act” for which he had declared he would wait. The atmosphere during those days is reflected in the despatches which the British Government received from its Washington Embassy. On 21st March, the following cable was received:

Two or three days earlier, three American ships had been sunk within twenty-four hours, and fifteen lives lost. Colonel House confirms in his Memoirs that at this time the American Cabinet was eager for a declaration of war without further delay, but that the President could not be induced to make up his mind. But on March 21st he determined to summon a special session of Congress for April 2nd in order to agree on future policy. On March 23rd a letter was written by one of our representatives in America who was in close touch with events at Washington:

This picture, as indeed all the accounts we received at this time from Washington, showed the President as being aware that before long he would be compelled to take sides with the Allies, but holding on until he was finally driven to action. House records that on March 24th, 1917, Mr. Lansing, the Secretary of State, came to see him in desperation, saying that he

And on March 27th, when House went to tackle Wilson at Washington, and make certain that he was going to announce a state of war with Germany—which by now virtually existed—the President cried despairingly, “What else can I do? Is there anything else I can do?”

There was by this time no shortage of “overt acts” to determine the issue. On March 21st, the same day that Wilson issued his summons for a special session of Congress, another American vessel, the S.S. Healdton, was torpedoed and sunk with a loss of seven lives. The final problem which the President had to decide was whether to ask Congress to sanction a Declaration of War, or to put it to them that a state of war already existed, and to ask them to sanction the necessary measures for carrying it on. House advised the second course, which Wilson in the end adopted. On April 2nd, 1917, the President addressed the special session of Congress, and declared:

Thus at last, more than two and one-half years after the World War broke out, Germany succeeded in forcing the United States to take sides against her. It must be conceded that the States had clung to their neutrality with almost incredible patience and persistence. Had it been possible, they would have stood aside from the conflict until the end. The unwavering stupidity of Imperial German statesmanship since the dismissal of Bismarck can have no more illuminating testimonial than this, that it brought a reluctant America into the War against her in the third year of the fight, as it had brought a reluctant Britain into action against her at the very commencement.

From the moment when Germany declared her unrestricted submarine warfare, America’s entry was a foregone conclusion. That she waited two months before she would admit this fact must be attributed to the attitude of her President. The delay did not avert the issue. It only made it two months later before she began to prepare herself for the defence of her interests or the support of her associates in the struggle. And this was at a time when days were of vital importance; when it was becoming a matter of touch and go whether the cause which America was driven to espouse might not be finally defeated before she could put into the field an effective contingent for its defence. Had those two months been utilised for preparation, the American Army would have been adequately represented in the trenches in France at the end of March, 1918, and the Ludendorff coup would have failed at the outset.

When at last President Wilson made his declaration to Congress on April 2nd, 1917, he showed no uncertainty as to the issues. In the course of his speech he said:

These principles were excellent and excellently expressed. The Allied democracies of France and the British Commonwealth had already borne the burden and been scorched by the heat of a thousand days in the “battle with this natural foe to liberty.” They rejoiced at the advent of this powerful help from the greatest democracy in the world, at a time when troubles were multiplying. They perhaps might be excused for thinking that issues so clear now to President Wilson ought to have been apparent earlier to his eyes. They felt grateful in their hearts to the great American (Theodore Roosevelt) whose vision was so undimmed and whose sympathies were so sure from the outset of this grim struggle for international right.

During these last two months, while President Wilson was making up his mind, the Allies were naturally very anxious to keep in touch with American movements of opinion. Among my papers is a letter sent to the British Government by Mr. J. Allen Baker, the idealist Quaker who had devoted his life to the cause of Peace and who had just returned at the end of March, 1917, from a visit to the States. He gives an account of various interviews he had had during this critical time with leading people in the States, in particular with Colonel House, who expressed warm sympathy with the cause of the Allies, and was reassuring as to the certainty of America joining in with all her strength. “We want to be your reservoir for everything that America can supply—food, munitions, money and men—the latter to volunteer and go over as soon as wanted, or can be carried, and they can be trained on your side, if wanted.

“We are ready also to exchange inventions, naval or otherwise, and to coöperate with our United States Navy to rid the seas of submarines.”

At an interview on March 10th, the Colonel gave Mr. Baker the following message for Mr. Balfour and me:

To this he added a further message, reiterating what he had said at previous interviews:

We had shown the greatest reticence in our references to America. We fully realised that Americans would resent any appearance of our trying to lure them into the War. This was appreciated on the other side.

We made preparations for joint action if and when the moment should have arrived for America to come into the conflict. I invited the War Cabinet to make such arrangements as were possible for securing the most effective coöperation with America if and when she came into the War. We decided that it was desirable that, in the event of intervention in the War by the United States of America, a special Mission should proceed to the United States for the purpose of notifying the relative importance of the various forms in which coöperation could be given. The War Cabinet recognised, however, that it was essential for such a Mission to have at its head some individual of the highest consequence and authority, who would carry great weight with the United States Government, and that the dispatch of this Mission was contingent on the selection of such a leader.

When the news came through of President Wilson’s decision, I read a summary of his Congress statement to the Imperial War Cabinet of April 3rd, and repeated to this larger meeting, which included the Dominion Premiers, my suggestion of sending a Special Mission to America. The Imperial War Cabinet agreed that the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs should, in the same afternoon, sound the United States Ambassador in London as to the desirability of sending a special Mission to Washington, and should, in addition, explain to him the views of the War Cabinet as to the most effective form which the coöperation of the United States of America could take, laying special stress on the importance of putting into service the enemy ships in their ports, and of stimulating shipbuilding to the utmost possible extent.

It is difficult at this date to recall the effect which the accession of the United States to the anti-German forces had upon public opinion in the belligerent countries. The Allied countries were naturally heartened. The Allied cause was not prospering. The streets of Petrograd and Moscow were crowded with revolutionary workmen, chanting endlessly a monotonous demand for Peace. The chant was murmured by the Russian soldiers behind and even in the trenches. On sea the submarine peril was at its height and the heart of our Admirals at its lowest. The knowledge that the great Republic had decided to throw her might into the struggle on our side lightened the deepening gloom. German opinion was curiously undismayed. It was even contemptuous. The submarine attack was fulfilling the most sanguine expectations and they had complete confidence in its ultimate and speedy success. America had no army and before it could raise and train an army there would be no ships to carry it to Europe. What a joke! Germany laughed. War is an intoxication where the judgment of man reels like a drunkard from side to side. One moment it is exhilarated without reason to a pitch of delirious joy—the next it staggers with just as little reason into the ditch of despair on the other side. German public opinion, inebriated by truthful accounts of submarine triumphs, was now enjoying a moment of rapture. In such a mood an American Declaration of War did not count.

Arrangements were carried further at the War Cabinet meeting of April 4th, where Mr. Balfour was able to report that the American Ambassador, Mr. Page, had welcomed the idea of the dispatch of the contemplated mission. It was decided that the Head of the Mission must be some one of high status, well known to the American people, and that he should be accompanied by representatives of the Admiralty, War Office, Ministries of Munitions, Food and Shipping, and by the Governor of the Bank of England. On the following day it was settled that Mr. Balfour, the Foreign Secretary, should be the Head of the Mission. It was also decided to include representatives of British Labour in the Mission.

As to the terms of reference of this Mission, they were widely drawn to cover all negotiations with the Government of the United States about possible forms of assistance. On April 10th, at the request of the Cabinet, Mr. Balfour undertook to ask the President of the United States for assistance in the following ways.

He undertook to call the President’s attention to the need of developing to the full the shipbuilding capacity of the United States of America. He would explain to the President the difficulty of inducing neutral vessels, even by insurance, to keep in our trade, and he would therefore ask the President whether the American vessels now engaged in coastal trade could not be diverted to the service of the Allies, and their places taken by neutrals.

In view of the desirability of getting as many troops as possible for the Western Front in a few months’ time, and some troops immediately in order to show the United States flag and give the public in the United States of America a definite stake in the War, Mr. Balfour was requested to ask President Wilson:

In addition Mr. Balfour was authorised to offer every possible assistance in training the new levies in accordance with experience gained in the present War, and he undertook to suggest to the United States Government that advantage might also be taken of French experience.

At the request of the Minister of Munitions, and with the concurrence of the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Mr. Balfour undertook to impress on the United States Government the adoption of British type of guns, with a view to rapid production, closer coöperation, and facility of supply of ammunition.

Mr. Balfour undertook to impress on the United States Government the importance, with a view to meeting the increased requirements due to the formation of their own Army, of increasing the output and reducing civilian demands for steel.

Mr. Balfour would point out the desirability of not recruiting steel and other skilled workers. Doctor Addison undertook to send Mr. Balfour, before his departure, a list of difficulties encountered and surmounted by the Ministry of Munitions, including labour difficulties.

Mr. Balfour undertook to make special enquiry, and to telegraph to the War Cabinet, as to the importance of the Irish question in connection with our relations with the United States of America.

It will be seen that a good deal of care was devoted, not only to considering what help we could ask for the Allied cause from the United States, but what information from our own experience we could place at their disposal to help them in organising themselves for war.

The French Government also decided to send a Mission to America, with M. Viviani at its head. At the request of the French, we concerted with them arrangements for the visit of the two missions to the States.

Meantime, Admiral Sims had arrived in this country to discuss combined naval policy with the British Admiralty. He came in response to an informal and confidential invitation from us, sent as a result of discussions between the American Government and our Naval Attaché at Washington, and left America on March 31st, 1917, reaching this side on April 9th. When he left the States they were nominally at peace with Germany. When he arrived here, they were at war. The Resolution of Congress, declaring a state of war, had, in the meantime, been carried by both Houses, and been signed on April 6th, 1917, by President Wilson. Admiral Sims therefore was able to enter forthwith upon serious and official discussions with our naval authorities at the Admiralty about combined naval strategy, in which he showed a clear intelligence and a practical ability and, what was just as important, an eagerness to coöperate, which were of the greatest assistance. He subsequently admitted that before he came over, Admiral Benson, the American Chief of Naval Operations, said to him, “Don’t let the British pull the wool over your eyes. It is none of our business pulling their chestnuts out of the fire. We would as soon fight the British as the Germans!” Benson had a double dose of Anglophobia and it afflicted him and embarrassed us right through the War. But Sims himself did not share Benson’s disease. Fortunately for both countries, he was not only a warm friend of this country, but he was a man of judgment and tact, and he got on extremely well with our sailors and statesmen. It is not too much to say that he won the confidence and affection of all with whom he came in contact. His advice was always timely and practical and as such highly valued.

On April 10th, the day after Sims arrived at Liverpool, another step towards naval coöperation with the States was taken, when an International Naval Conference took place at Hampton Roads, attended by the British and French Admirals of the Allied Fleets in the Atlantic. It was followed next day by a further conference at the Navy Department at Washington, and was a pronounced success. Every phase of the naval situation was discussed, and decisions were reached by which the United States Navy would take over the patrolling of the American Atlantic coast from Canada to South American waters, and protect the Pacific coast from Canada to Columbia; would hold squadrons in readiness to operate against any surface raiders; would at once send six destroyers to assist the anti-submarine campaign on the European side of the Atlantic; would detail armed naval transports to carry needed railway material to France; and would undertake several other special tasks of patrol and supervision. Admiral Jellicoe reported to the War Cabinet meeting on April 16th that he had received a communication from the British Naval Attaché at Washington to the effect that the International Conference had been a great success, very largely owing to the efforts of Admiral Browning. He now anticipated that the naval coöperation of the United States of America would be whole-hearted and more effective than had been anticipated.

Mr. Balfour and the British Mission reached America on April 21st, 1917. The principal representatives with him were Lord Cunliffe of the Bank of England; Rear Admiral Sir Dudley de Chair, to represent the Admiralty, and Major General G. T. M. Bridges for the Army; while Mr. (now Sir) Walter Layton represented the Ministry of Munitions. In response to a cabled enquiry about their progress, the following telegram dated April 26th, 1917, records their first impressions on the other side:

This first British Mission to the States was in fact mainly concerned with preparing the ground for full coöperation and stimulating interest and good will. Mr. Balfour visited Chicago, Boston, and other great centres, and was everywhere received with enthusiasm. A letter from one of the members of the Mission to a colleague in this country describing their experiences, was passed on to me, and as it is interesting for its sidelights I take from it the following extract:

Perhaps the chief interest of this letter is the light it throws, not on the activities of the British Mission, but on the fact—a fact of the deepest historical significance—that this Mission began the process of filling up the chasm of suspicion and resentment rent between England and the States by the great convulsion of the eighteenth century, and kept wide and deep ever since by political interests. It was the beginning of a real friendship and fellowship between us which had never existed before. But the letter I have just quoted shows that the attitude of semi-hostility in America had some justification and nourishment in British arrogance and affectation of superiority.

British democracy had a genuine admiration for the great Republic—its struggle for freedom against the statesmen who successfully held the people down in Britain, as they failed to do in America—its heroes, notably Abraham Lincoln, as revered a name here as in America, its amplitude and equality of opportunity for all those who toiled and wrought intelligently. America was regarded by the British people as a whole with a wistfulness rooted in a consciousness of their own more restricted conditions. Dislike of America was confined to the snobocracy of Britain. Unfortunately, it was more vocal and quotable. John Bright alone amongst the statesmen of the past impressed America with the warmth of his appreciation for her qualities and for the importance of the part she must play in the progress of humanity. But Bright in the days of his famous American orations was just as detestable to our governing classes as George Washington or a Western tail twister.

The dawn of mutual appreciation which this letter reflects was one of the most valuable gains resulting from the World War, and may yet prove an asset of vital importance for achieving international order and securing the foundations of world peace.

Both President Wilson and Colonel House spent a good deal of time discussing war aims with Mr. Balfour.

Mention was made of the various secret treaties which had been concluded with Russia and Italy about territorial changes which it would be the Allied purpose to effect if successful, and Mr. Balfour described in detail these agreements and offered repeatedly to supply copies of the treaties to the President. This fact is very fully acknowledged in the contemporary notes of Colonel House, reproduced in his “Intimate Papers”, and they place beyond dispute the fact that Wilson was fully apprised by Balfour of the nature of these arrangements. Wilson was unwilling to discuss them in detail, because on the one hand it was not at that stage possible to modify the terms of the secret treaties, and on the other, he clearly hoped that by the time peace was made, America would have established itself firmly enough inside the counsels of the victorious Powers to be able to secure modifications if she so willed. He was obviously anxious not to be informed in writing of the details as he did not wish to be embarrassed by being “affected with notice.” But the statement subsequently made by President Wilson before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on August 19th, 1919, that “the whole series of understandings were disclosed to me for the first time when I arrived in Paris for the Peace Conference”, is a palpable misrepresentation of the true facts. By that time however his health was seriously undermined and he was on the brink of his tragic breakdown. A lapse of memory was therefore pardonable. As it affects the relations between two great countries, I feel bound to correct the mistake. Good faith is essential to good understanding between nations as well as individuals.

On May 23rd, 1917, Mr. Balfour and his party left Washington for Canada, where they made a short visit before starting back to England on May 31st. Before leaving the States, he suggested that it would be desirable to establish a permanent British Mission there, to obtain liaison with the American Government, and coördinate the activities of the various British agencies at work in the States. For this post he suggested Viscount Grey. On May 11th the War Cabinet approved of my approaching Grey with this proposal. I did so, but was not able to induce him to accept the position. He urged that his eye trouble disqualified him for the discharge of the duties of so strenuous and responsible a post. The matter was therefore reconsidered on May 25th by the War Cabinet, who felt it was desirable to proceed as early as possible to reach a decision with regard to a business man being appointed as the head of all the Missions representing the different Departments concerned, such as the Admiralty, War Office, the Ministry of Munitions, the Shipping Controller, and the Food Controller.

It was pointed out that these Missions were at present without a responsible Head, with the result that there was some conflict of interests, and that, by coördinating their action, thus preventing overlapping and one Department bidding against another, far better results might be expected to ensue. Although the person selected would no doubt have a great deal to do with Americans, his primary duty would be to control our own operations, including recruiting, production, purchase, manufactures, transport, and the priority of the various claims.

Those Heads of Departments concerned who were present were of opinion that Lord Northcliffe might be a very suitable person for this appointment, and the War Cabinet decided that a telegram should be transmitted to the British Ambassador at Washington as well as to Mr. Balfour, asking them for an early expression of their views on the proposed appointment.

A satisfactory response was cabled by Mr. Balfour on May 28th, and Lord Robert Cecil was also able to report to the War Cabinet on May 30th that Mr. Page, the American Ambassador, was enthusiastically in favour of the suggestion that Lord Northcliffe should be appointed. Accordingly it was decided on that day that the Prime Minister should invite Lord Northcliffe to proceed to the United States of America, not as a diplomatic representative, but as the Head of the Mission representing the different Departments concerned, for the purpose of coördinating their action.

Lord Northcliffe accepted the appointment without any fuss and was anxious to start with the least possible delay. It was decided that before doing so he should have interviews with the Heads of the Departments whose affairs he would be watching over in the States, and that instructions should be drafted for his guidance. These instructions were considered and approved by the War Cabinet on May 31st, 1917. They were as follows:

The appointment of Lord Northcliffe was, of course, bound to raise a storm of criticism in certain quarters. There were considerable sections of orthodox and tabulated opinion in this country, not altogether confined to one party, to which he had long been a name of reproach for the dash and novelty of his journalistic methods. His newspaper circulations alone condemned him. There could not be a million genteel readers in the whole Kingdom—certainly not a million over and above the regular readers of the reputable Press. His appeal was to the “ha’penny public”, that is, the common people, and must therefore be by methods not sanctioned by convention. The appointment of such a person to a highly honourable and responsible position therefore shocked many worthy people of conventional outlook. I observed the same shiver pass through orthodox circles when Lord Beaverbrook and Lord Rothermere were given important positions in the Government.

Overseas opinion was more friendly. But Northcliffe’s scornful criticisms in the papers he controlled had also made him personal enemies, and even in high quarters in America grave doubts were felt as to the wisdom of the Cabinet’s choice. One of our representatives in the States wrote to Mr. Balfour on June 22nd, and remarked in the course of his letter:

This last sentence was understood to refer to the President, who had an instinctive and cultivated aversion for men of the Northcliffe type.

Photo. by E. O. Hoppe

LORD NORTHCLIFFE

Among those who took this view of the appointment was the British Ambassador, Sir Cecil Spring-Rice. He, in fact, nursed a personal grievance against the great newspaper proprietor, who had criticised him with unwelcome and perhaps unjust frankness. On June 20th, 1917, a few days after he arrived in the States, Northcliffe sent a letter for my information giving his first impressions and a note of his initial activities, and in this he recorded the reception he had received from our diplomatic representatives as follows:

It is fair to the Ambassador’s memory that I should give his account of this exchange of civilities:

Because of the attack Northcliffe had already made on the Ambassador, the latter expected antagonism from Northcliffe. For the same reason Northcliffe was on the look-out for hostility on the part of Spring-Rice. Anticipated antagonisms do not make for cordiality. This explains the misunderstanding.

I have given these quotations because the incidents they describe are typical of the acute criticism which Lord Northcliffe’s appointment called forth, and of the susceptibilities with which he had to contend. The critics did not sufficiently appreciate the fact that the very qualities of aggressive energy and self-assertion, which might have led Lord Northcliffe in his rôle of universal stirrer-up to lay about and prod far and wide, to the general exasperation of all in authority, might prove a useful stimulus to a nation in an emergency calling for a doubling of its energies. It was an occasion that gave scope to his great powers of organisation and drive. It is the wisdom of successful Government that it should harness powerful but unruly natural elements to some beneficent task.

In the event, Lord Northcliffe proved to be a striking success in his new rôle. Colonel House, who at first had his anxieties when he heard of the appointment, established with him from the outset of his visit a personal friendship which lasted till Northcliffe’s death. In his “Intimate Papers” House says that:

The references to Northcliffe in House’s papers in the summer of 1917 all reflect increasing admiration and affection. “Northcliffe is doing good work,” he cabled to England on August 11th, “and is getting along well with everyone.”

Even Spring-Rice and the Embassy Staff found themselves getting on with Northcliffe far better than they had feared, and learned to modify their resentful prejudices against him. Just at the outset, when he was building up the organisation of the British Mission, and clearing out superfluous members of the staffs of the already established agencies, he perhaps roused more apprehension than confidence. But the keen spirits among our representatives soon learnt to appreciate the increased efficiency and smoother working of the machine under his powerful direction; and if Northcliffe could be ruthless, he could also be big-hearted and magnificently encouraging.

Among his most difficult problems was that of making satisfactory financial arrangements with America. By this time Britain had used up practically all the external credits which could easily be mobilised, and with the restriction alike of shipping and of civil industry, our exports had fallen off very considerably. But our external purchases of munitions and supplies had vastly increased, and by this time we were also providing very extensive equipment and stores for our Allies on the Continent. American finance was not as yet accustomed to floating huge loans to the credit of foreigners. I have no doubt that as the money was being spent on purchases in the States, the sellers would have found means of raising adequate funds on the credit of such sound concerns as the British Empire and France, but there would have been difficulties and injurious delays. When America came into the War the financial situation was eased and we were enabled to borrow on credit from the States, without hypothecating our securities, but their Government, unused as yet to the immense expenditure of war, were slow to realise how vast a financial support would have to be provided.

On July 17th, 1917, Northcliffe wrote to me as follows:

He was naturally impatient of even inevitable delays. Not accustomed to being thwarted or to have his decision questioned or delayed, in his experience an order rung down the telephone had to be executed forthwith and he expected a report on the same telephone at latest in an hour’s time. He had thus acquired a telephone mentality. He was now in a world where the autocrat had to submit to being an all-round subordinate. He was subject to approval of the Home Government—to acceptance or acquiescence by the American Government; to protracted conversations and negotiations—palavering instead of commanding.

In politics and diplomacy, long intricate persuasion is an essential prelude to action. Lord Northcliffe had not even the experience of a provincial mayor to guide him in the activities which depend more on coöperation than on dictation. For a man of his dictatorial temperament and experience he did well. He was not always ready to make allowances for conditions which neither he nor the British Government had power to control. There was a President waging reluctant war. To Wilson war was an abomination from which he had failed to escape. So it was to most of us. But his hatred of war took the form of throwing as little of his spirit, zeal and force into its prosecution as he could consistently with his responsibility as the chief executive officer of the Republic. He recoiled from any display of exceptional energy for accelerating the time when he could fling masses of American young men into deadly contact with the youth of Germany. To do so was to him to show indecent haste for the slaughter he had perforce ordained. Such a man was not easily dealt with by a dynamic and impatient personality like Northcliffe, who had gone over to America purposely to help in the speeding up. There was therefore some friction and occasional misunderstanding. Northcliffe fretted and fumed and grizzled. But fortunately he directed his complaints to his own Government and restrained his impatience wonderfully when he came to deal with the proud, susceptible and unwarlike President. It is to the credit of Northcliffe’s fundamental common sense that he succeeded in winning the confidence and good will of a man with a temper as autocratic as his own, but with a mind, training, character and outlook essentially different from his own. His work in America exposed some of his pettiness but it also revealed something of his greatness. The fact that he did not permit his weaknesses to impair his work or imperil his mission is a proof of his genuine strength.

President Wilson, when he decided to declare war, had not yet resolved that it would be necessary for him to make war. I cannot help thinking that in his heart he hoped that the mere act of ranging the States with their infinite resources on the side of the Allies would lead to Peace before any American blood was shed. He thought Germany and her Confederates must now realise that he meant to fight if they did not give in and that it was hopeless for them to triumph against such a combination. He wanted that knowledge to sink well into their consciousness. I have no right to say that he deliberately dawdled his preparations in order to give the Central Powers full opportunity for reconsidering their attitude in view of the new fact. But that must have been an element in the otherwise inexplicable delay which occurred in preparing American troops for the battle line and throwing them into the fight when they were ready. The British Empire, with a small regular army, when war was declared, contrived in six months to send half a million men into the battlefields of East and West. Most of these at the declaration of war had either received no military training at all or only training of the most elementary character. In six months and a bit the first American Division occupied a trench in a quiet sector of the line. Twelve months after the American entry into the War there was only that one divisional unit confronting the enemy. Within a year of Britain’s declaration of war she had sent nine hundred thousand men into action and her casualties numbered one hundred seventy thousand. Had it not been for the disaster of March, 1918, there is no one who can tell what President Wilson’s notion was as to the time when his huge army should start fighting. He certainly could not have intended it to take any part in the actual struggle of 1918, for he had not provided it with the necessary weapons for that purpose. When his troops were compelled to fight, owing to the critical situation created by the defection of Russia and the exhaustion of France, they did so with borrowed guns, for they had few of their own up to the end of the War. Airplanes and other essential equipment had also to be lent them. This is all the more inexplicable, having regard to the fact that the Allies had already organised a great deal of industrial resources of America for the production of war material. Abraham Lincoln was a lover of peace. He was one of the most humane rulers that ever presided over the destiny of any nation. It must have wrung his kindly heart to shoot down honest men, especially amongst his own countrymen, in any quarrel. But having been forced into war, he concentrated all his energy and genius on the measures that could alone ensure victory for the sacred cause he had undertaken to champion. But Wilson was not a Lincoln.

The shipping matter referred to in Lord Northcliffe’s letter was the decision of the American Government to commandeer a number of ships then building in the States to the orders of the British Government, and others that had been ordered by the Australian Government. The incident illustrated the complex issues which arose between our two countries during the War. Our own shipping was being rapidly sunk, and there was no question of increasing our mercantile marine, but merely of replacing a part of our war losses. But there were in the States powerful influences which had long been jealous of our shipping supremacy and saw in the large shipbuilding orders we had placed there the menace of a still further increase in our mercantile fleet. While America was neutral there was no excuse for refusing our orders for ships. But as soon as she entered the War, they saw a good pretext for retaining these vessels under the American flag, by requisitioning them for the carriage of supplies and troops.

On August 21st, 1917, Lord Northcliffe sent me a long cable about this matter. It was as follows:

Northcliffe proceeds to quote a characteristic protest which Hughes, Premier of Australia, had sent to Colonel House. It was as follows:

Northcliffe ends his message by saying that:

This telegram was considered by the War Cabinet on August 22nd, 1917. As regards Lord Northcliffe’s suggestion of an earnest and vigorous protest from me to President Wilson, Lord Cecil urged that in his opinion it would be unwise to adopt Lord Northcliffe’s suggestion, having regard to the pledges given by Mr. Balfour when in America. Moreover, if the United States had decided to take over the ships, a protest might not prove effective and might only cause irritation and friction. He continued that Mr. Balfour believed that the best chance of persuading the United States Government to allow us to keep the ships was to appeal to their sense of justice and good will, as had been done in his letter of August 16th to the American Ambassador.

The Shipping Controller pointed out the very serious blow to our prospective tonnage programme—amounting to a loss of some four million tons’ carrying capacity a year—if we failed to get delivery of the steamers. Recent public pronouncements as to our prospective gains in tonnage had taken full account of the American ships. The ships were urgently needed during the critical period between now and next year’s harvest.

The possibility was suggested of negotiating with the United States Government on the basis of our giving back the vessels after the War.

Mr. Salter, of the Ministry of Shipping, who had just returned from Washington, where he had had an interview with President Wilson on this subject, said that the President was at that time in favour of requisitioning the ships, but had come to that conclusion under pressure from Mr. Denman, the ex-head of the American Shipping Board, and on grounds that were not really relevant, and he had promised to reconsider the question. It must be remembered that there was an element in the United States of America that was very jealous of our Mercantile Marine, and also that the United States Army and Navy were anxious to carry their troops and stores to France in their own ships.

The War Cabinet decided to support the policy expressed in Mr. Balfour’s letter of the 16th of August to the American Ambassador, of appealing to the American sense of justice and good will. They asked the Acting Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs after consultation with the Ministry of Shipping, to telegraph in this sense to His Majesty’s Ambassador at Washington, at the same time pointing out the serious blow that would be caused to our tonnage programme in the event of requisition.

At the War Cabinet meeting of August 24th the matter was further discussed, and we decided to put forward in the last resort the suggestion of restoring the ships to America after the War, or of time-chartering them. A communication in this sense was wired to Northcliffe, who replied:

Unhappily, despite our appeals and the strenuous efforts of Northcliffe and Royden in America, the influences antagonistic to British shipping interests won the day with the President, and one hundred fifty ships which were then building to British orders in the States were confiscated by the American Government and added to its Government Fleet. The authorities there cherished an ambitious project of developing a large, nationally owned mercantile marine. Before the War, America possessed about one eighth the sea-going merchant tonnage that Britain had, but during the latter part of the War the Emergency Fleet which she constructed grew until it was far greater, alike in numbers and in tonnage, than the privately owned American shipping. But the post-War history of this fleet has not been very cheerful. The American Shipping Board retained it for a time after the War, and suffered very serious losses through the slump of ship values and the cost of operation. Even when full allowance had been made for the strategic or economic value of a national fleet, it was still more of a liability than an asset. After the War the Hudson River became a knackers’ yard.

Reverting to Lord Northcliffe’s letter of July 17th, 1917, it may be of interest to note the position of the other principal matter he there dealt with, viz. the financial arrangements between Britain and America.

The Allies encountered two obstacles in their financial dealings with the American Government. The first difficulty was to bring the American Government to appreciate the scale upon which war expenditure was being incurred. They had some notion that considerable orders had been and were being placed with factories, workshops, grain merchants, but they had never totalled it up or considered how the money was found to pay the contractors. The Administration deliberately turned a blind eye to these profitable transactions which made America prosper and the revenue swell. When the Allies came to ask the American Treasury for credit to pay the enormous weekly bills run up for war material in the States, that Department was shocked at the amount that was being spent. It suspected not only extravagance but something worse. It was convinced that the Allies under the guise of war expenditure meant to equip themselves for future trade and industry at the expense of the American lender. They were especially jealous of orders for railway material and locomotives or anything to do with ships. It was difficult to persuade them that Russia was on the verge of irreparable catastrophe for lack of the former and that the whole of the Allies might be beaten, owing to the shipping shortage, long before America was ready to fight. Allies have always been mistrustful of each others’ ulterior motives. I was told during the War that one distinguished Frenchman was convinced that the English having once again recovered possession of Calais never intended to surrender it at the end of the War. An equally distinguished Englishman was just as firmly persuaded that the French meant to annex Greece in order completely to dominate the Mediterranean and place the British communications to the East at the mercy of France. Jealousy is a foolish monster.

America was altogether doubtful of Europe. She had a romantic affection for France because of the memories of Lafayette and Rochambeau. The shades of these champions of American liberty constituted an important part of the theatrical properties of every French Mission to the States and assured to every French envoy a favourable reception. But historical memories of England were not such as conduced to any sentimental glow. For Russia, democratic America had a definite repugnance. The Russian autocracy was a tyranny of the worst kind. France was a Republic and therefore free, but Russia and Italy and ourselves were classed with Germany and Austria in a favourite demagogic phrase as “the effete Monarchies of Europe.” As we had to take the leading part in the borrowing for our Allies even more than for ourselves, there was a reluctance to be in any hurry to accommodate us. France might have fared better had she taken the lead. But although they had never shown any disposition to recoil when there was fighting to be done, they are more inclined to hang back when there are any debts to be incurred or paid. We were therefore in the forefront of the Treasury queue and American opinion was apprehensive of our designs.

But there was another difficulty of a practical rather than a sentimental kind. America had never lent money abroad on any considerable scale. When Lord Reading visited the States in 1915 to raise a loan for the purpose of financing our contracts, these American financiers shuddered at his proposal to fix the amount borrowed at one hundred million pounds. They regarded it as an example of the megalomania which sprang from War fever. When he succeeded, with much help as to a substantial portion from the contractors who would ultimately receive all, it was regarded as one of the greatest British triumphs in the War. Now the foreign borrowings were to reach four billion dollars and the Treasury at Washington shrank from the magnitude of the loan.

On July 5th, 1917, our Ambassador at Washington, Sir Cecil Spring-Rice, wrote a letter which throws a light not only on the financial difficulties, but on others which were impeding action at that date:

A letter from Sir William Wiseman to the Foreign Office, dated August 7th, 1917, contained notes of a recent conversation he had held with President Wilson. Sir William Wiseman was a young officer who, after being invalided from the Western Front, was attached to our Embassy in Washington, where he developed remarkable ability as a diplomat. By this time he was beginning to play a considerable part in smoothing over relations with the American Government. On the financial issue, these notes ran as follows:

This question of some distinguished representative proceeding to America to discuss finance became increasingly important, and after further consultations with Colonel House, Lord Northcliffe cabled us as follows on the 15th of August:

Bonar Law being unable to leave his parliamentary responsibilities, the Cabinet suggested Reading should be invited to go. Bonar Law cabled Lord Northcliffe as follows:

The matter was further discussed at the Cabinet Meeting of August 28th, 1917. A telegram was dispatched to the British Ambassador intimating that the War Cabinet had decided in view of the difficulties which had arisen in connection with the financial situation to ask Lord Reading to go out on special mission to the United States. He would have their full authority to negotiate with the Administration and to decide on behalf of His Majesty’s Government any questions that might be raised. Though primarily concerned with finance, he would be authorised to deal with any subject which he considered desirable for the proper discharge of his mission.

Meanwhile the tension in our financial relations with the States was increasing, and on September 7th, 1917, Lord Northcliffe sent me the following cable:

The financial problem which had arisen in our relations with America can be briefly summarised. During the period between the outbreak of the Great War and America’s entry in April, 1917, Britain had carried out very extensive purchases in the States, of food, munitions and other war supplies needed by herself and her Allies. These had been paid for in part by British exports, in part by exports of gold, of which we sent £190,000,000 to America before April 1st, 1917, in part by mobilising American securities held in this country and sending them to the States. Altogether, in the course of the War, we sent gold and securities to America totalling £600,000,000 in value. When these ran out, we arranged to borrow money in the commercial loan market in the States, the total of which amounted to over £300,000,000. These loans we have since repaid.

By the time America came into the War, our capacity to produce further securities to sell in the States to pay for our purchases there was approaching the end. We had not only been required to buy our own equipment; we had also been the main financial resource of our Allies, and up to the time when America joined in, we had advanced to them sums totalling £827,000,000. Including these advances, our total expenditure during the War, up to April, 1917, amounted to £4,300,000,000. By this time the War was costing us at the rate of seven million pounds a day.

The United States, on entering the War, were quite unprepared to take any large share in military operations, but they declared themselves ready and eager to place their immense financial resources at the services of the common cause. We were given to understand that until their men were ready they would fight with their money, and we naturally welcomed the prospect of their taking over from us the task of financing the external purchases of our Allies and ourselves. Our own capacity for mobilising credit for them and for ourselves had been strained almost to breaking point. We had hitherto been finding both men and money to the limit of our available resources.

President Wilson asked Congress to sanction liberal loans to the Allies, and Congress promptly passed the first Liberty Loan Act, for raising a loan of £1,000,000,000, of which £600,000,000 were to be used to lend to the Allies. But America declined our suggestion that she should take over from us the whole responsibility for financing the foreign purchases of our Continental Allies. She would only lend money to finance their expenditure in the States, and we had to continue to find credits for their other external purchases, including those from Britain. Much of what we ourselves supplied them we had to replace by fresh purchases in the States, so that the strain on us continued to be very severe, and consequently the credits we were forced to ask for from America were on a large scale.

Prior to America’s entry, we had arranged our financial matters in the States, including the raising of loans on the American market, through the firm of J. P. Morgan and Company. When the American Government became the new source of credits, the problem arose of arranging our transactions through this new agency, which was inexperienced in its task. After much discussion, the Government of the States decided to set up a special Commission at Washington, through which all purchases made in the States by ourselves and by the other Allies should proceed. An agreement to this effect was signed by the Secretary of the Treasury, and the representatives of Great Britain, France and Russia, on August 24th, 1917. The arrangement greatly eased the situation. Prior to finding this solution, the American Treasury had been irritable with anxiety about the complexities of their new, unwonted and unaccustomed responsibilities.

Lord Reading reached America in mid-September, and his arrival made a further marked improvement in the Anglo-American financial relations. Lord Northcliffe, cabling home on September 21st, 1917, the results of an interview with Colonel House about the situation, said:

In November, 1917, Lord Northcliffe returned to this country in order to attend the Conference of the Allies which opened in Paris on November 29th, and Lord Reading also came back for this Conference. By this time the multitudinous arrangements between the Allies and America had got into fairly smooth working order. The first detachments of United States troops were now in France.

The actual military effort of America took place mainly in the following year; but a beginning was made in 1917 which furnished to the Allies, and particularly to the French, a visible proof that their expectation of American help was not groundless. The first United States division reached France on June 25th, 1917. By September 30th, the strength of the American Expeditionary Force in France had reached 61,531 (i.e. 4,406 officers and 57,125 men). Their training for the warfare of the Western Front went on behind the lines, and in October the 1st Division was advanced enough to be placed, on October 21st, 1917, in the line on a quiet sector of the French Front, between Nancy and Luneville. It suffered its first casualties on November 3rd, 1917, when the Germans raided one of its posts, and three Americans were killed, five wounded and twelve captured. By December 31st, 1917, the total strength of the American Expeditionary Force that had reached Europe was 9,804 officers and 165,080 men. These included four divisions in various stages of organisation and training. For their heavier equipment they had for some time to rely mainly on the French and British. On February 28th, 1918, General Pershing pointed out in a telegram to his Government that “as a matter of fact, there is not to-day a single American-made plane in Europe.” And until a much later date, practically all their artillery was supplied by the French and ourselves. Partly this was due to their complete lack of equipment for war on a European scale, and partly the acute shortage of shipping, which hampered the bringing of supplies across the Atlantic. How that situation was transformed by the time that hostilities ceased belongs to a later stage of my narrative.