erosity, justice, disdain of animosity-these virtues were
learnt on the playing-fields and race-courses. England knows their
value; she treats war as a sport because so she will fight better. For
her that approach to adversity is normal.

With us war is a sport. With the French it is a martyrdom. But with
the Americans it is a job. "We've got four years to do this job. We've
got four years to do this job," as the American soldiers chant. I
think in these three attitudes towards war as a martyrdom, as sport
and as a job, you get reflected the three gradations of distance
by which each nation is divided from the trenches. France had her
tribulation thrust upon her. She was attacked; she had no option.
England, separated by the Channel, could have restrained the weight
of her strength, biding her time. She had her moment of choice, but
rushed to the rescue the moment the first Hun bayonet gleamed across
the Belgian threshold. America, fortified by the Atlantic, could not
believe that her peace was in any way assailed. The idea seemed
too madly far-fetched. At first she refused to realise that this
apportioning of a continent three thousand miles distant from Germany
was anything but a pipe-dream of diplomats in their dotage. It was
inconceivable that it could be the practical and achievable cunning of
military bullies and strategists. The truth dawned too slowly for her
to display any vivid burst of anger. "It isn't true," she said. And
then, "It seems incredible." And lastly, "What infernal impertinence!"

It was the infernal impertinence of Germany's schemes for
transatlantic plunder that roused the average American. It awoke in
him a terrible, calm anger--a feeling that some one must be punished.
It was as though he broke off suddenly in what he was doing and
commenced rolling up his shirt-sleeves. There was a grim, surprised
determination about his quietness, which had not been seen in any
other belligerent nation. France became consciously and tragically
heroic when war commenced. England became unwontedly cheerful because
life was moving on grander levels. In America there was no outward
change. The old habit of feverish industry still persisted, but was
intensified and applied in unselfish directions.

What has impressed me most in my tour of the American activities
in France is the businesslike relentlessness of the preparations.
Everything is being done on a titanic scale and everything is being
done to last. T