8 
LAND & WATER 
Mav :;, 1017 
■SavrcllOi across, tlie western slopes o( Greenland liill (it 
hiust be remonibered tliat these elevations are very, slight), 
■iu'ssing' Rpenx railway station and only apprbacliinj^' the mit-' 
•^ferts of the \iliage. It then crossed the Siarpe rivi-r an<l 
jlitiMt eastward to ituliidc Mnneliy. The (lernians remained, 
iffid- still remain in jKissession of the summit of tjreenhuul 
'iwCnt <T. Jf we shade everything upon tlie map which is 
above the 80 metre contour (or, say, Ironi roughly 100 feet 
above the water levels of the district), we shall see what this 
means. 
•'■The Germans on the summit of Greenland Hill at G have 
observation back over our lines and hold the point that would 
give «s observation forward over their positions right away 
t^ Douai. From the top of this hill one looks down both on 
the railway close by and on the main road which leads to 
Douai, and between it and Douai there is no eminence. 
Therefore, anything that threatens Greenland Hill compels 
ail intense counter-attack on the part of the enemy. 
'Now the ruins of Roeux down in the valley merely flank 
Greenland Hill at G. But after Roeux the next point of 
resistance is Plouvain, and if this be reached the Germans 
can no longer hold the summit of Greenland Hill at G just 
above. Roeux is, therefore, the first step to the possession 
of G. To save G all this immense German effort has been 
made and has so far been made in vain. The strongest kind 
of counter-attack has been provoked, ir hashed to the urual 
very high losses which follow upon such attacks, and therefore 
the immediate object of this offensive has been attained. 
Bullecourt, six miles away to' the south, has a similar im- 
jyortance, modified by the conditions peculiar to its special 
cbnditions of ground.' Just as Roeux is the first step to the 
height of Greenland Hill at G, so is Bullecourt, between seven 
ahd eight miles south of Roeux, the first step to the height of 
Riencourt at R, and the capture of Bullecourt is an imme- 
diate threat to the height at R, which again in its turn is the 
' last height to afford observation m this part of the line. 
■ There is a sense in which the capture of Bullecourt is less 
important than the capture of Roeux. For the hill at R is 
in no way outflanked by the capture of Bullecourt and further 
progress from Bullecourt will only necessitate some form of 
direct attack upon R. But this "is a minor point compared 
*:ith the exceedingly important one that the hill at R is 
right on the hinge or junction of tlie \ital,Droc«iiri-(hu^amt 
line. . r '. • " 
Now it is clear that if you have built vour shortest defensive 
line joining uji with an old line just below the jioint where 
that old line has been broken, then to ;have the junction 
smaNlied is fatal. An attempt to defend positiftns further 
in the rear would lead to a stretching ci'^scenf of defence, 
getting wider and wifler and harfler an<l harrier to hold. 
Bullecourt and its organised ruins just in front of the hinge, 
or pivot; or junction where the new line is switched oft from 
the old, has been fought for as has hardlvany other point on 
the whole front during the last few weeks. It has dragged 
uj) not only great masses of the enemy to save it, but units of 
a particular quality. It has sucked in the Givard, and 
Pomeranian regimeiits. which the enemy particularly values, 
and the men holding the organised ruins have not only been 
picked for their (]uality of resistance, but have been under 
strict orders to make that resistance absolute. 
We must not judge the value of what has occurred by the 
mere fact that the ruins of Bullecourt, which some days ago 
lay in front and to the east of the Australians, now for the 
most part lie behind and to the' westward of them. That 
is not the point. The point is that this piece of ground is so 
essential to the enemy that he has poureci up, and lost, in the 
defence of it, all and more than all that it was thought he could 
be compelled to pour up into it and lose. Let him do what 
he di(;l at Fresnoy the other day, and with the same very great 
concentration as at Fresnoy (it was three divisions) re- 
establish himself temporarily in the ruins. The thing would 
look bad upon headlines, but it would none the less be, as the 
phrase goes, " a part of the Clockwork." The continued 
pressure on this spot would effect what was intended. 
What is true of Roeux and of Bullecourt to-day will be truer 
still of Greenland Hill and Riencourt (G and R on Map 1.) 
to-morrow. The conditions are inexorable. The enemy is 
sucked into a whirlpool not of his own creation. The pres- 
sure exercised upon him is exercised just on those points where 
it has its fullest effect and the consequence is the steady but 
immensely rapid expenditure of men. .'^hd all this because 
the form of the battle is British and not his^ so is in the main 
the observation fmm the air, and so is the superiority in 
artillery. " H. Belloc. 
Under Three Flags 
By a Special Correspondent ' 
■ 'Washington April 29th. 1917. 
TO-DAY three flags are flying in the sunlight from 
the roof of an open temple in Virginia, overlooking 
the Potomac. Within the temple is a plain tomb, 
and within the tomb the remains of General Washing- 
ton. The Stars and Stripes have long flowTi there, perhaps 
also the Tricolor, I^ut 1 doubt if that portion of Virginia 
has seen the Union Jack since some day earlier than 1776. 
when La Fayette had not yet crossed the .Atlantic, and the 
revolutionary Tricolor was yet -unborn. 
1 The three flags fly there side by side to-day. and every 
ship of war passing up or down to Chesapeake Bay salutes 
Moimt Vernon with the haunting bugle notes of the " Dead 
Steps"; officers and men stand at attention ; the rest uncover ; 
and, when the last echo has died away over the water and in 
the sun-shot woodland, the crash and stamp of the "" Star 
•Spangled Banner " complete the ritual. 
" The spirit of Washington broods over Washington's home 
and chosen resting-place. Pious hands hav^e kept the grounds 
as'helaid them out, with the box hedges that he planted and. 
within them, only such old flowers as he knew ; from the 
■colonnaded, white-walled, red-roofed mansion of the Virginia 
country gentleman, with its Adams decoration and half-circle 
of laundrj-, smoke-house, kitchen and spinning-house, you may 
look past the magnoha that young La Fayette set thefe, 
through the gap in the tree belt to the lodge half a mile away, 
Where Washmgton's guests drove in from the neighbouring 
♦ownship t>f Alexandria. On Sundays he received no visitors ; 
and the Regents who preserve his house and grounds as he If ft 
them allow no visitors on Sundays. To-day an exception 
was made, for a British and French Mission were come, to 
America to discuss the war which had united all three. in a 
rommon bond and a joint crusade, therefore " God Save 
the King " was played in sight of the Capitol when the British 
Mission appeared ; therefore the " Marseillaise " greeted 
Marshal Joftre and Monsieur Viviani ; therefore three flags 
fltiated side by side over the tomb at Mount Vernon. 
A month ago General Washington was the English settler 
'who had -withstood English misgovernment and tyranny, 
organised n successful rc\olution, beaten the English in the 
field and created a nation. La Fayette was the crusader 
from overseas who had given his sword and his youth to a 
people struggling for freedom. The two were friends as well as 
brothers in arms. When the American Revolution was 
accomplished. La Fayette returned home, and the breath of 
liberty tasted .by his troops was one of many influences in 
bringing about the French Revolution which for a time he 
ruled. Washington, at the other side of the world, watched 
the travail of old France and the birth of another republic. 
When the Bastille fell. Tom Paine, " rebellious needleman," 
possessed himself of the key and sent it by the hand of La 
Fayette to Washington, in whose house it still hangs. And, 
when his own revolution had seemingly gone awry. La Fayette 
took up the threads of the old friendship at Mount \'ernon and 
would sit up all night, talking of it all. The two are twin 
heroes ; the Tricolor may fitly float side by side with the 
Stars and Stripes. 
And a month ago the English were the descendants of those 
others whom Washington had been compelled to withstand ; 
they must regard him as a rebel. He had beaten them ; they 
n^ist regard him with bitter resentment. English and 
French might sink their differences in face of a common 
enemy ; French and Americans had no differences to sink ; 
but there was an enduring antagonism between Americans 
and Enghsh, emphasised and acerbated f>y the memory of 
: iFrance. Yet to-day the three flags fly together, and of the 
.'two wreaths laid on Washington's tomb one was placed there 
by the I'Yench Mission and the other by the British. 
It may be claimed by Washington that he begot a nation, 
.but England begot Washington. As La Faj'ctte crossed the 
.Atlantic in the cause of freedom, so the men of Washington's 
.race will re-cross it in the same cause and will find their old 
,. antagonists and their old .\llies fighting side by side under 
. their united flags. There has been no greater diplomatic 
revolution since 177&. On the plain tomb lie the two wreaths 
•in token of amnesty ; -overhead floats the Union Jack in 
unaccustomed company and up through the woods from 
the Potomac comes the dying note of the bugle, while on board 
the President's yacht " Mayflower" Americans, French and 
British stand uncovered in the afternoon sunshine. 
