Captains of the Great War
Field-Marshal Earl Haig. By Brigadier.General John Charteris. (Cassell. 25s.) - • Foch Talks. By Commandant Bugnet. (Gollancz. 7s. 6d.) " A magma, narrative of how Lord Haig appeared to a colleague and a friend " (as Mr. John Buchan says in his preface), General Charteris's interesting book should take its place in every library of the Great War. Lord Haig was not a. man of genius. Perhaps greatness was thrust on him, .but he accepted it greatly and served his country with a dogged devotion and self-sacrifice that will ensure
his place in history. General Charteris was with Haig practically all through
the Great War, and the impression he leaves of his- chief is one of almost inhuman calm. Very rarely did his impas- sivity desert him : hardly ever did he betray his emotions ty.a sign or look. When the birth of his son was announced to him at a critical moment in the operations, however, he astounded the doctor by kissing him, and once (once only !) during the whole of the War he lingered an hour over dinner to listen to the stories of Mr. Beck (the famous American lawyer). Otherwise every minute of his time was parcelled out, day after day, month after month, with mechanical
Precision :-- •
" Precisely at 8.25 each morning Haig's bedroom door opened, and he walked downstairs. In the hall was a barometer and he in- variably stopped in front of the instrument to tap it, though he rarely took any particular note of the reading. He then went for a short four minutes' walk in the garden. At 8.30 precisely hi) camp into the mess for breakfast.. . . At nine o'clock he went into his study and worked until eleven or half-past. At half past eleven he saw Army Commanders, the heads of departments at Army Headquarters and others whom he might desire to see. At one o'clock he had lunch which only lasted half an hour and then he either motored or rode to the headquarters-of some Army or Corps or Division. . . . Always on the return journey from his ride he would stop about three miles from home and hand his horse over to a groom and walk back to Headquarters. On arrival there he would -go - straight up to his room, have a bath, do his physical exercises and then change into slacks. From then until dinner time at 8 o'clock he would sit at his desk and work. . . . At 8 o'clock he dined. After dinner which lasted about an hour he returned to his room and worked until a quarter to eleven. At this hour he rang the bell for his Private Secretary and invariably greeted him with the same remark : Philip—not in bed yet?' "
Without the variation of an instant this routine continued at Army Headquarters. " Don't mistake bustle for business," was an aphorism of Mr. Asquith's which Haig frequently quoted. Not for his hard work or cool head, however, will he be remembered, but for his very British tenacity when things were going wrong.
It is as the leader of the heroes of the spring of 1918—that 0 soldiers' battle " if ever there was one—when the spirit of our men rose stubbornly as the odds against them grew, and they fought back one hundred and six German divisions, that his place is secure in our hearts and memories. Rarely did he write out an order himself, but the famous " Backs to the Wall" message was all in his own hand. Its simplicity and strength .will make it live :--
" Many of us are now tired. To those I would say that victory belongs to the side which holds out the longest. . . . Every position must be held to the last man • there must be no retirement. With our backs to the wall and believing in the justice of our cause, each one of us must-fight on to the end. The safety of our homes and the freedom of mankind alike depend upon the conduct of each one of us at this critical moment."
Commandant Bugnet's book about Foch is very disap- pointing. " I live in the memory of a past which is always present to my eyes," Foch told him. " But," the author admits, " it is not always easy to strike forth from this living rock the waters of memory." Certainly he is no Moses, nor even a Boswell. The rock remains a rock, the dead Marshal sp eaks, but we cannot believe it is a human voice.
Foch, we are told, led a regular life like Haig, examined every question to the bottom, did not believe in oratory. " I have never read much. I had enough to do. I have never read any of Anatole France. Yes, I know. He had a wonderful command of form. Form ? How do you suppose that concerns me ? If it does not help to say something, what use is it?" Intense objectivity, tenacity and perseverance were obvious in all that Foch did and was. Like Haig, he seems to have lacked imagination, but in this book we are
not made to feel even that. We certainly get no impression .whatever of having seen into Foch's mind. The two great leaders of the War, while differing in many points, were alike in this, that they were both men with a small range of mind outside their own profession, that they were terrific workers, had bulldog determination and few of the externals of genius. Perhaps the war of the trenches required such leaders. Or would a Napoleon on either side have ended the War in six months ? The point is, at any rate, arguable. And what is certain is that not England or France alone, but civilization has a debt of gratitude to pay to the memory of the captains of the Allied Armies. Neither of these two books -pays that debt, but General Charteris's memoir is at least a tribute that, Haig would have felt, represented his life and work.
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