IV At Grips


I have before referred to the apparent vagueness and casualness
of war on its present scarcely conceivable scale. When you are with
a Staff officer, you see almost everything. I doubt not that certain
matters are hidden from you; but, broadly speaking, you do see all
that is to be seen. Into the mind of the General, which conceals the
strategy that is to make history, of course you cannot peer. The
General is full of interesting talk about the past and about the
present, but about the future he breathes no word. If he is near the
centre of the front he will tell you blandly, in answer to your question,
that a great movement may not improbably be expected at the
wings. If he is at either of the wings he will tell you blandly that a
great movement may not improbably be expected at the centre. You
are not disappointed at his attitude, because you feel when putting
them that such questions as yours deserve such answers as his.
But you are assuredly disappointed at not being able to
comprehend even the present--what is going on around you, under
your eyes, deafening your ears.

For example, I hear the sound of guns. I do not mean the general
sound of guns, which is practically continuous round the horizon, but
the particular sound of some specific group of guns. I ask about
them. Sometimes even Staff officers may hesitate before deciding
whether they are enemy guns or French guns. As a rule, the civilian
distinguishes an enemy shot by the sizzling, affrighting sound of the
projectile as it rushes through the air towards him; whereas the
French projectile, rushing away from him, is out of hearing before