TOPICS OF THE D.Y.
AT LOGGERHEADS.
AN old explanation of the phrase " at loggerheads "- whether true or not we do not attempt to say—runs as follows : When two armies met in what we should now call entrenched positions, those positions were spoken of as leaguers. The leaguers were pushed on, from both sides just as the trenches are now pushed on, till at last the " leaguer-heads " were almost in contact, and were separated only by a hundred yards or so. The contending armies were then said to be at " leaguer-heads," or " logger- heads." They had reached the ultimate point, and could make faces or shout defiance at each other across the " bridge of war." That " is exactly what has happened on the Aisne, except just on the extreme north-western aide, where the line is still being prolonged. Elsewhere the combatants are at loggerheads. They are " chock-a- block." Neither side can advance further, except in a few special parts of the line, without incurring the tremendous losses involved in taking lines of trenches at the point of the bayonet.
How is this position of stalemate to be relieved ? In the first place, it might, of course, be relieved by an action on either flank ; but in this case that flank must be the Allies' left wing, for the right wing is so near the Swiss frontier that it would be very difficult for either side to make a big turning movement there. On our left, however, if, instead of that prolongation of the line which has been going on towards the north for the last two weeks, there were to be a big turning movement on either side ending in envelopment or a serious threat of envelopment, the condition of unstable equilibrium in the tremendous line of vis-a-vis entrenchments which now stretches from the Swiss frontier to Arras might first be agitated and then destroyed. The troops that were in danger of envelopment would call for succour to the troops in their lines nearest them, and those troops would, of course, hurry to the rescue. The same thing would happen to the enveloping army. In order that their enveloping movement should not have to be abandoned and their sacrifices thrown away, they would, in effect, call to other troops : " Come and help us at once and in force or the beggars will escape. We have got them, but we cannot hold them unless you can keep off the people who are coming to their rescue." In this way the enveloping movement would draw the battle to itself, and there would be something like a rush from the trenches on both sides to bold or to relieve the enveloping force, whether French or German. But this movement might end in the most extraordinary confusion. Some troops, instead of rushing first to the immediate aid of their fellow-combatants in the west, might think it better business to break through the weakened line in front of them, and thus what are now two roughly parallel lines might become a sort of chequer-work. Then would come the opportunity for a great military brain. The man who was able to re-sort his line and bring it into coherence would have achieved the greatest triumph which any commander in the field can achieve. Like Marlborough in Addison's poem, the Generalissimo would "Tell the doubtful battle where to rage."
The poor Battle, if we may personify her, though anxious enough to rage, is sometimes in terrible doubt as to where to do it, and may be obliged to appeal to the directing mind. Somewhere in an inn parlour the generals-in-chief are moving their little flags about on the map. On the right or wrong movement of these little flags the fate of mankind may depend, or seem to depend, for after all in this war something greater than mere strategy or tactics is going to win in the end. The victory of freedom and humanity may be delayed by bad generalship or bad luck, and the agony which might have been shortened may be prolonged, but in the end liberty and popular right will prevail. We have just pictured how a tactical success on the left might conceivably bring the combatants swarming like bees in a great confused knot of battle, a regular Rugby scrimmage, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Lille. It is, however, quite as likely, or perhaps more likely, that the old game will be played through to the end, and that we shall merely get more prolongations of the line, either till it runs north-west on to Dunkerque, or, striking due north, reaches the tidal Schelde. In that case the position of loggerheads will be complete. Then what is to happen ? There will be no more flanking movements possible, for they will have been stopped by the sea on one side and by the Swiss border on the other. In such circumstances one of three things will happen. One of the generals may try the tremendous task of ordering a simultaneous general advance, to carry with the bayonet trenches which in the aggregate may cover a distance of some two hundred miles. But this is hardly likely, for who can tell the end of such a general advance ? The " mix up " and its possibilities would be enough to daunt Hannibal, Caesar, Turenne, and Napoleon roiled into one. No human brain could, one feels, be able to grasp such a situation and turn it to advantage. But if a general does not see how a situation is to be turned to advantage, he will shy from it as a horse shies from a white cloth in a hedge. A second and more natural course is for one of the generals to try to find what he believes to be a weak spot in the enemy's line at some point which is specially convenient for him, and then gradually to collect more strength at the place where be means to attack, covering his manoeuvre by several feints to the left and right. When he is ready his thunderbolt will be launched. Here again, however, the stroke, unless it is very rapid, very unexpected, and very successful, will probably bring up the combatants from both sides and end in the kind of confused " swarm" of which we have spoken before. We come to the third possibility. If there is stalemate from one end of the frontier to the other, and the armies have been fought to a standstill, it may be that our old friend the command of the sea will be able to solve the situation. Here, however, the possibilities had perhaps best not be talked about, though they must be quite as obvious to our German foes as to us. All we can feel sure of is that, though the condition of stalemate may go on for a month or two, especially if the weather turns bad, it will not go on for ever. Somebody will have to try to break through. Remember, it will seem more urgent to the Germans to do it than it will to our people, because, among other things, the Germans will be living in the enemy's country and the Allies in their own. Again, the Germans, having time against them, and fearing the Russian advance, will be more urgent to get the thing over than we shall be. The position of temporary stalemate will suit us better than it will suit our enemies. We can afford to be unsuc- cessful and without victories, but they cannot. They have thrown down their last halfpenny already. We are only beginning to collect our resources for future use. The Indian troops only arrived last week. The Canadians only arrived three days ago. The Australians have not yet arrived. The main part of our Army has only just been recruited and is still in training. In three months' time— and the stalemate may easily last longer than that—we shall have altogether two hundred thousand men from the ovorsea Dominions and from India, and the first five hundred thousand men of the new Army will present quite a creditable appearance and be clamouring to go to the front. The way in which the Germans have realized their resources and the courage with which they have put everything down on the table are magnificent, but that magnificence is now exhausted. We know the worst. If we may venture to say so without pride or boasting, the Germans do not know the worst that is being prepared for them either as regards Britain or as regards the Empire. We can still say with perfect truth : " There are plenty more where those came from." That applies to men, to guns, to aeroplanes, and to ships.
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