s of so
skilful, bold, and decisive a character, that he gained positions which
alone have enabled me to maintain my position for more than three weeks
of very severe fighting on the north bank of the river."

In the first battle of Ypres, the chief honors of victory were again
awarded to him:

"Throughout this trying period, Sir Douglas Haig, aided by his
divisional commanders and his brigade commanders, held the line with
marvelous tenacity and undaunted courage."

Again and again, the generous French pays tribute to his friend, which
while deserved reflects no less honor upon the speaker. He was big
enough to share honor.

It is not strange, therefore, when French was superseded, for strategic
reasons, that Haig should have been given the chief command. The
appointment, however, left most of the world frankly amazed. Haig had
come forward so quietly that few save those in official circles knew
anything about him. It was nevertheless but a matter of weeks,
possibly days, before a quiet confidence born of the man himself was
manifest everywhere.

One war correspondent who visited headquarters in the midst of the
War's turmoil, thus describes his visit:

"The environment of the Commander-in-chief is strongly suggestive of
his conduct of the war. Before war became a thing of precise science,
the headquarters of an army head seethed with all the picturesque
details so common to pictures of martial life. Couriers mounted on
foam-flecked horses dashed to and fro. The air was vibrant with
action; the fate of battle showed on the face of the humblest orderly.
But today 'G. H. Q.'--as headquarters are familiarly known--are totally
different. Although army units have risen from thousands to millions
of men, and fields of operations stretch from sea to sea, and more
ammunition is expended in a single engagement than was employed in
entire wars of other days, absolute serenity prevails. It is only when
your imagination conjures up the picture of flame and fury that lies
beyond the horizon line that you get a thrill.

"An occasional motorcar driven by a soldier-chauffeur chugs up the
gravel road to the chateau and from it emerge earnest-faced officers
whose visits are usually brief. Neither time nor words are wasted when
myriad lives hang in the balance and an empire is at stake. Inside and
out there is an atmosphere of quiet confidence, born of unobtrusive
efficiency."

The same writer on meeting Haig says: