olent intermittence.
But the munition factories grind on night and day, grinding against
the factories in Central Europe, grinding out the slow and costly and
necessary victory that should end aggressive warfare in the world for
ever.

It would be very interesting if one could arrange a meeting between
any typical Allied munition maker on the one hand, and the Kaiser and
Hindenburg, those two dominant effigies of the German nationalists'
dream of "world might." Or failing that, Mr. Dyson might draw the
encounter. You imagine these two heroic figures got up for the
interview, very magnificent in shining helms and flowing cloaks,
decorations, splendid swords, spurs. "Here," one would say, "is the
power that has held you. You were bolstered up very loyally by the Krupp
firm and so forth, you piled up shell, guns, war material, you hoped to
snatch your victory before the industrialisation and invention of the
world could turn upon you. But you failed. You were not rapid enough.
The battle of the Marne was your misfortune. And Ypres. You lost some
chances at Ypres. Two can play at destructive industrialism, and now
we out-gun you. We are piling up munitions now faster than you. The
essentials of this Game of the War Lord are idiotically simple, but it
was not of our choosing. It is now merely a question of months before
you make your inevitable admission. This is no war to any great
commander's glory. This gentleman in the bowler hat is the victor, Sire;
not you. Assisted, Sire, by these disrespectful-looking factory girls in
overalls."

For example, there is M. Citroen. Before the war I understand he made
automobiles; after the war he wants to turn to and make automobiles
again. For the duration of the war he makes shell. He has been
temporarily diverted from constructive to destructive industrialism. He
did me the honours of his factory. He is a compact, active man in dark
clothes and a bowler hat, with a pencil and notebook conveniently at
hand. He talked to me in carefully easy French, and watched my face with
an intelligent eye through his pince-nez for the signs of comprehension.
Then he went on to the next point.

He took me through every stage of his process. In his office he showed
me the general story. Here were photographs of certain vacant fields
and old sheds--"this place"--he indicated the altered prospect from the
window--"at the outbreak of the war." He showed me a plan of the first
undertaking. "Now we h