n the writer, "that, you know, is not a
military term. It is a phrase of endearment used in England.--'A
thousand, thousand kisses'--that has nothing to do with the disposition
of troops." So he went through to the honeyed end, the Censor blushing
and furious, the audience hilarious.

The Mustapha Pasha Censorship would not allow ox-wagons or reservists to
be mentioned, nor officers' names. The Censorship objected, too, for a
long time to any mention of the all-pervading mud which was the chief
item of interest in the town's life. Yet you might have lost an army
division in some of the puddles. (But stop, I am lapsing into the
picturesque ways of the new school of correspondents. Actually you could
not have lost more than a regiment in the largest mud-puddle.)

Let the position be frankly faced, that if one is with an army in modern
warfare, common sense prohibits the authorities from allowing you to see
anything, and suggests the further precautions of a strict Censorship
and a general hold-up of wires until their military value (and therefore
their "news" value) has passed. If your paper wants picturesque stories
hot off the grill it is much better not to be with the army (which
means, in effect, in the rear of the army), but to write about its deeds
from outside the radius of the Censorship.

Perhaps, though, your paper has old-fashioned prejudices in favour of
veracity and will be annoyed if your imagination leads you too palpably
astray? In that case do not venture to be a war correspondent at all. If
you do not invent you will send nothing of value. If you invent you will
be reprimanded.

Let me give my personal record of "getting to the front" and the net
result of the trouble and the expense. I went down to Mustapha Pasha
with the great body of war correspondents, and soon recognised that
there was no hope of useful work there. The attacking army was at a
standstill and a long, wearisome siege--its operations strictly guarded
from inspection--was in prospect. I decided to get back to staff
headquarters (then at Stara Zagora), and just managed to catch the staff
before it moved on to Kirk Kilisse. By threatening to return to London
at once I got a promise of leave to join the Third Army and to "see some
fighting."

The promise anticipated the actual granting of leave by two days. It
would be tedious to record all the little and big difficulties that were
then encountered through the reluctance of the militar