Each evening we go on sentry duty; or go out with patrols,
or working parties, or ration parties. Our losses in killed and
wounded are not heavy, but they are regular. We would not grudge the
lives thus spent if only we could advance, even a little. But there is
nothing doing. Sometimes a trench is rushed here, or recaptured there,
but the net result is--stalemate.
The campaign upon which we find ourselves at present embarked offers
few opportunities for brilliancy. One wonders how Napoleon would have
handled it. His favourite device, we remember, was to dash rapidly
about the chessboard, insert himself between two hostile armies, and
defeat them severally. But how can you insert yourself between two
armies when you are faced by only one army--an army stretching from
Ostend to the Alps?
One of the first elements of successful strategy is surprise. In the
old days, a general of genius could outflank his foe by a forced
march, or lay some ingenious trap or ambush. But how can you outflank
a foe who has no flanks? How can you lay an ambush for the modern
Intelligence Department, with its aeroplane reconnaissance and
telephonic nervous system? Do you mass half a million men at a chosen
point in the enemy's line? Straightway the enemy knows all about it,
and does likewise. Each morning General Headquarters of each side
finds upon its breakfast-table a concise summary of the movements of
all hostile troops, the disposition of railway rolling-stock--yea,
even aeroplane photographs of it all.
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