As we look at the fighting in the West as
a whole, there is something orchestral about it. The British trumpets began the great symphony. Then the French flutes took up the theme with all their soul-piercing passion and filled the valley of the Aisne with their fateful harmonies, suspensions, and resolutions. To what region will the great conductor next turn ? What instruments will his nod and uplifted baton call into the concert of sound ? In the north, from Armentieres to Dixmude and round the tragic circle of the Salient, the musicians stand expectant. The violins, the 'cellos, and the basses are waiting the gesture that shall unlock the tempests of sound now hushed, pressed, packed within their instruments and their souls. To the south, from the frontier at Basle west to Verdun, are gathered the clarinets and the oboes, the piccolos and French horns. They are straining for the word like hounds. We have not seen the score, and know not where the baton will beckon and fall. All we know is that the performers are ready, and that the order will be obeyed on the instant.
