A WAR MEMORY 221 



sea was very narrow then. King Albert and 

 the Belgians were standing on the last little 

 bit of Belgian soil that had been saved from 

 the invader. Rich provinces of France were 

 occupied and devastated, and from all sides 

 came the cry for more men. The enemy's 

 reserves seemed to us still to be inexhaustible ; 

 blow after blow had fallen, and each time we 

 had been obliged to give ground. Further blows 

 were expected. Paris was being bombarded 

 from afar, and Amiens, that vital railway- 

 junction, at close range. Our own homeland 

 had not been invaded, and a glance at the 

 Nelson Column reminded us that we could carry 

 on, even if the war on land were lost on the 

 Western Front ; but at what cost to our Allies ? 

 And could they stand further torture ? Man- 

 power alone could turn the scale, in time, and 

 all eyes were turned to the W 7 est, across the 

 Atlantic. Every office in Whitehall could show 

 its map of the Western Front, with a row of 

 little flags marking the constant loss of ground 

 since March. The flags had been moved con- 

 stantly westward, and it seemed that the tide of 

 invasion would never reach its high-water mark. 



I was looking at one of those maps on that 

 July morning. On the way up Whitehall I 

 had passed many tired-looking faces. " We are 



