us that he could be eloquent
when he chose.

They are very implacable, these Frenchmen. Undoubtedly Clemenceau spoke
in their name, when he said, "my war aim is victory." Another Frenchman
said to me once, "when Clemenceau is speaking, no one dares to
interrupt, for they know it is the voice of the soldier at the Front
speaking." And one can scarcely wonder that they are implacable. In
Alsace-Lorraine and in the occupied territories of Northern France, they
say that it is known with complete certainty that the daughters and
wives and widows of many French officers and men have been compelled to
take up their abode in brothels, and there to await at all hours of the
day and night the visits of their country's enemies. Is it surprising
that certain French Regiments, knowing these things, never take
prisoners? And can one fail to admire, even if one does not
unconditionally agree with, the soldier who would fight on and on, until
everyone has been killed, rather than accept anything less than a
complete victory?

It is all but impossible for a foreigner to measure the spiritual
effects upon a proudly and self-consciously civilised Frenchman of these
unpardonable, brain-rending, heart-stabbing provocations. But the
statesman at home who, drawing good pay and living in comfort far behind
the Front, is ever ready to declare that his country "shall continue to
bleed in her glory" is a less admirable spectacle. It is his business to
conceive some subtler and more comprehensive war aim than bare military
victory, and to make sure that, when he has died safely in his bed and
been forgotten, other men shall not have to do over again the work which
he complacently bungled. A fighting soldier, who risks his life daily,
may speak brave words, which are indecent on the lips of an _imboscato_,
whether military or civilian.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE ASIAGO PLATEAU

About the middle of March the British Divisions moved up from the
Montello to the Asiago Plateau, and all the British Heavy Artillery was
concentrated in the Asiago sector. We, therefore, moved six miles to the
west and found ourselves in support of British, and no longer of
Italian, Infantry. Our Brigade ceased to be a "trench-punching" and
became a "counter-battery" Brigade. Most of our work in future was to be
in close co-operation with our own Air Force.

My Battery was destined to remain here, with two short interludes, for
seven months. It was in many ways a very i