e civilians who go on strike, prate of weariness,
scream their terror when a few Hun planes sail over London, devote
columns in their papers to pin-prick tragedies of food-shortage, and
cloud the growing generosity between England and America by cavilling
criticisms and mean reflections. Their contempt is not that of the
fighter for the man of peace; but the scorn of the man who is doing
his duty for the shirker.

A Tommy is reading a paper in a muddy trench. Suddenly he scowls,
laughs rather fiercely and calls to his pal, jerking his head as a
sign to him to hurry. "'Ere Bill, listen to wot this 'ere cry-baby
says. 'E thinks we're losin' the bloomin' war 'cause 'e didn't get an
egg for breakfast. Losin' the war! A lot 'e knows abart it. A blinkin'
lot 'e's done either to win or lose it. Yus, I don't think! Thank
Gawd, we've none of 'is sort up front."

To men who have gazed for months with the eyes of visionaries on
sudden death, it comes as a shock to discover that back there, where
life is so sweetly certain, fear still strides unabashed. They had
thought that fear was dead--stifled by heroism. They had believed that
personal littleness had given way before the magnanimity of martyrdom.

In this plea, then, for a firmer Anglo-American friendship I address
the civilian populations of both countries. The fate of such a
friendship is in their hands. In the Eden of national destinies God
is walking; yet there are those who bray their ancient grievances so
loudly that they all but drown the sound of His footsteps.

Being an Englishman it will be more courteous to commence with the
fools of my own flesh and blood. Let me paint a contrast.

Last October I sailed back from New York with a company of American
officers; they consisted in the main of trained airmen, Navy experts
and engineers. Before my departure the extraordinary sternness of
America, her keenness to rival her allies in self-denial, her willing
mobilisation of all her resources, had confirmed my optimism gained in
the trenches, that the Allies must win; the mere thought of compromise
was impossible and blasphemous. This optimism was enhanced on the
voyage by the conduct of the officers who were my companions. They
carried their spirit of dedication to an excess that was almost
irksome. They refused to play cards. They were determined not
to relax. Every minute they could snatch was spent in studying
text-books. Their country had come into the war so late