tree-trunk to which they had grown so accustomed still reared itself
skyward. But the "tree" at which the Germans were now looking was of
hollow steel, and concealed in its interior in a sort of
conning-tower, forty feet above the ground, a French observing
officer, field-glasses at his eyes and a telephone at his lips, was
peering through a cleverly concealed peep-hole, spotting the bursts of
the French shells and regulating the fire of the French batteries.

Nearly three years have passed since Germany tore up the Scrap of
Paper. In that time the French army has been hammered and tempered and
tested until it has become the most formidable weapon of offense and
defense in existence. I am convinced that in organization and in
efficiency it is now, after close on three years of experiments and
object-lessons, as good, if not better, than the German--and I have
marched with both and have seen both in action. Its light artillery is
admittedly the finest in the world. Though without any heavy artillery
to speak of at the beginning of the war, it has in this respect
already equalled if not surpassed the Germans. It has created an air
service which, in efficiency and in number of machines, is unequalled.
And the men, themselves, in addition to their characteristic _elan_,
possess that invaluable quality which the German soldier
lacks--initiative.

It is worthy of note, in this connection, that the entire
reorganization of the French army has been carried out virtually
without any action on the part of the French Congress, and with merely
the formal approval of the Minister of War. The politicians in Paris
have, save in a few instances, wisely refrained from interference, and
have left military problems to be decided by military men. But, when
all is said and done, it will not be the generals who will decide this
war; it will be the soldiers. And they are truly wonderful men, these
French soldiers. It is their amazing calm, their total freedom from
nervousness or apprehension, that impresses one the most, and the
secret of this calm is confidence. They are as confident of eventual
victory as they are that the sun will rise to-morrow morning. They are
fanatics, and France is their Allah. You can't beat men like that,
because they never know when they are beaten, and keep on fighting.

I like to think that sometimes, in that cold and dismal hour before
the dawn, when hope and courage are at their lowest ebb, there
appears am