by the Eye-witness,' whose narratives are issued periodically by the Press Bureau. After referring to the loss entailed by attacking across the open for any considerable distance, he writes:

'To shorten the space over which their infantry has to advance they move forward by several narrow end-on approaches, which are either open to the air, or a foot or two below the surface of the ground. Where open, these are zigzagged to avoid being enfiladed. . . . At what is considered a possible assaulting distance these approaches, or saps, are joined up by a lateral trench roughly parallel to that being attacked. Here the stormers collect for a fresh rush. . . . In some cases, usually at night, a sap is driven right up to the parapet of the hostile trench, which is then blown in by a charge. Amid the confusion caused, and a shower of grenades, the stormers attempt to burst in through the opening and work along the trench. They also assault it in front.'

With regard to life in the trenches, he writes:

'Where bombardment is, or has been, severe, everyone within range of the enemy's guns will be found ensconced underground in "dug-outs" or "funkholes " as they are familiarly called. . . . Behind the firing-line trenches, are found the shelters for the men holding the line, and for those forming supports. . . . Communication between the firingline and the various shelters in rear, and with the headquarters of units, is kept up along approach-trenches, all zigzagged to prevent their being enfiladed, and liberally partitioned into compartments by traverses, so as to localise the effect of shell-fire. .. Behind the front trenches . . . are perfect labyrinths of burrows of various types. The principal feature of the battle-field . . . is the absence of any sign of human beings.'

...

It is hardly necessary to remark that the kind of warfare thus described is altogether out of harmony with the traditions and training of a field army. The value of a field army, apart from the natural soldierly qualities of the individuals of which it is composed, depends mainly on mobility and shooting efficiency; to which must be added, in the case of cavalry, horsemanship and skill in the use of the arme blanche. It is by superiority in these qualities that, other things being equal, one army is able to defeat another army. In a war of entrenchments there is neither scope nor need for these qualities;

and, from their disuse, the offensive power of the troops must inevitably deteriorate. The cavalry, that valuable arm which constitutes the eyes and ears of an army, finds no place unless, as happened during the critical period towards the end of October when our force was hopelessly outnumbered in the neighbourhood of Ypres, it is employed dismounted in the trenches. It would be hard to conceive any use to which cavalry could be put that would be more detrimental to efficiency in its proper rôle. The field artillery, designed for speedy manoeuvre and precision in coming into action, cannot find much scope for its proper functions. The physical powers of men and horses must deteriorate from inactivity.

Under present conditions these things are inevitable. They are mentioned here because, from our having become habituated to the existing situation, there is danger of its coming to be regarded as normal. The minor successes, of which so much is made in the daily communiqués and in the newspapers, are apt to engender a feeling of satisfaction. It is necessary to realise that the present situation in France and Belgium is an impasse, from which, at present, there is no visible release; and not only that, but the troops are deteriorating in those qualities which, when the release comes, must prove the deciding factor. It is no answer to say that the German troops are subject to the same disadvantages, and undergoing similar deterioration. The process is one of levelling-down, and therefore operates to the disadvantage of the army which is superior in the qualities on which depends its value in the field, where the decision must ultimately be fought out. Unless our faith is misplaced, it does not favour the Allies.

It is not good to be either optimistic or pessimistic, but it is well to look facts squarely in the face. There is, and since the beginning of the war there has been, a tendency to optimism in the public Press which is not justified. This is largely due to ignorance of what war really is, and to the intention-praiseworthy in itselfto take a cheerful view of things. It is calculated to do harm, because ultimate success in this war of nations— not of professional armies such as we have been accustomed to requires that the nation should put forth its utmost efforts. If the nation will exert itself, success

should be within reach; otherwise nobody who is not ignorant of war, or foolish, or something worse, can imagine or pretend that success is certain. The attitude of the Press, or at least a certain section of it, is therefore much to be regretted. Thoughtful officers at the front regard it with something like dismay. An officer wrote recently:

'I do hate the cheap papers on the war. I am sure this tends to stop recruiting. . . . The papers ought to put things as they are, viz., that we are up against a brave, determined, and ferocious enemy, who use their brains, and are without any very nice scruples; that it takes the French . . . and ourselves all our time to match them, and that we want more men, and highly-trained men-especially highly-trained men-and every ingenious device and method that can be suggested to defeat them.' (Morning Post,' Dec. 30.)

Other letters have been written to the same effect. Recently an officer, whose duties give him a somewhat extended view, said to the present writer when home for a few days' leave, 'I can't read the papers. It makes one sick to think that such pernicious stuff can be published.'

For the optimistic attitude referred to, the methods of the Censorship are in some degree responsible. Facts and statements have been suppressed merely because they related to some event or circumstance that was not entirely advantageous, and not because they were either incorrect or calculated to be of service to the enemy. On the other hand, statements have been allowed to pass which, though manifestly incorrect, represented matters in a favourable light. The inevitable consequence of such action is that a distorted view of things is presented to the public. The results are far-reaching, because the Press is forced to conform to the principle thus tactically laid down, namely, that nothing must be published which does not represent things in a rosy aspect.

There is also, no doubt, an inclination on the part of the Press to take its cue from foreign newspapers. The foreign Press is subject to control, its influence being utilised to promote the national interests. It is unnecessary to remark that the Press of Germany is notoriously subject to such direction. But the conditions in Great Britain and in Continental countries are

essentially different. The Continental Press best favours national interests by an optimistic attitude. The system of national military service assures the supply of recruits; what is necessary to ensure the resolute prosecution of the war is the maintenance of national enthusiasm and the avoidance of anything that might cause depression.

With our voluntary system, when the normal sources of supply have been exhausted, recruiting must be stimulated either by offering special inducements or by making the nation see-or, at least, permitting it to see-the gravity of the situation. The first great rush of recruits synchronised with the publication of a Press report which, till officially contradicted, caused general alarm, and which, even after it was contradicted, left a feeling of uneasiness. So far as can be judged from outward signs, a large section of the public has now relapsed into an apathetic attitude which is detrimental both to recruiting and to the vigorous prosecution of the war. It is the duty of our Press to help the people to form a just appreciation of the situation and to realise the need for an effort that will bring the war to a speedy conclusion. The existing state of deadlock is pregnant with danger.

Let us consider the situation. The Germans have overrun nearly all Belgium, and a not inconsiderable part of northern France. These territories they hold with their entrenched armies. Opposed to them is the Allied army, also entrenched. Neither army has, during nearly three months' fighting, made any appreciable impression on the other. This is the state of things which has been picturesquely described as the blockade of Germany. It might, with a nearer approach to truth, be described as a blockade of the Allies. Germany took Belgium by assault, is holding it, and means to keep it. So far the advantage rests with the Germans, who have both conquered territory and kept the war on their enemies' soil. In the eastern theatre of war they occupy a considerable part of Poland, where there are indications that they contemplate attempting a similar blockade. As a Berlin paper recently observed, 'We have a large portion of the enemy's country in our hands as a safe pledge.' Only in East Prussia and Galicia have the Allies trodden German soil.

Meanwhile Germany is busy training new troops, for