re-enter on possession. Nor can they be weighed, as some have suggested, against German conquests in Europe, to be bartered for the latter if the war should end in an inconclusive peace. It would, doubtless, be the aim of Germany in that event to secure terms which would enable her to prepare for a renewal of the struggle under more advantageous conditions; and it is hardly to be supposed that she would exchange Belgium, and the open road to Constantinople, which are essential to the realisation of her dreams of dominion by sea and land, for distant territories which have, in comparison, no military value.

In this connexion a kindred doctrine may be noticed, which attributes a similar efficacy to sea-power. It asserts that, if the Allied Powers should be defeated on land, we could continue the war by sea, and, by blockading Germany, compel her to relinquish the occupied territories. This seductive theory assumes, in the first instance, that the blockade could be made more effective than it seems to have been hitherto, when France, Italy, and Russia had been added to the neutral countries from and through which Germany receives supplies. It also assumes that neutrals, who are now chafing at the restriction of their trade, would submit to its continuance after having ceased to make the large profits they are reaping from the war. Germany's oversea trade might be stopped; but to upset the commerce of a large part of the world, disregarding protests and possible reprisals, would need more resolution than British governments habitually possess.

The con

These, however, are minor considerations. ditions of peace which Germany, if victorious by land. would impose on our Allies are the vital matter. Ex hypothesi, she could exact what terms she pleased, for on no other terms would she conclude peace. These would comprise the cession of such occupied territories as she desired to keep, advantageous commercial agreements, and an embargo on trade with Great Britain. She would then start to outbuild our Navy, and, doubtless to attack us in Egypt, and, possibly in the East-enterprises which we could not resist, because sea-power is ineffective on land beyond the range of the ships' guns, while the residue of our land forces would be inadequate. If

Germany should think the end likely to be doubtful, or too long in coming, she could take the short and simple way of stipulating, in the terms of peace, for the transfer of our Allies' fleets, and thus at once secure preponderance at sea.

It is time that we ceased to imagine that decisive victory can be gained by these or by other indirect methods. The war will be decided on land, like other wars; and victory will go to the side which can maintain the larger armies in the field, and use them more effectively. It is another pleasing theory that time is on the side of the Allies, because they have the greater resources. Time and resources favour those who put them to the best use; and in this respect we have been wanting in the past. It is an elementary principle of war that other things being equal, success depends on superior forces being concentrated at the decisive point and time. On several occasions-at the Dardanelles, at Salonika, and in Mesopotamia-we have been too late; and the decision, which may be difficult to reverse, has, in consequence, gone against us. Another consequence has been that large forces are dispersed in distant regions, and the resources of our mercantile marine are overstrained in keeping them supplied, causing us to suffer from a sort of self-imposed blockade, and our Allies to be mulcted in high freights. We have followed the enemy's lead, instead of anticipating him. In other vital matters the Government, instead of adopting a resolute and far-seeing policy, has waited on public opinion. It is time to reverse these methods, for the crisis of the war cannot be far off; and it will need all the efforts of the Allies to give it a favourable turn, which, by ensuring decisive victory, may obviate an inconclusive peace.

W. P. BLOOD.

Art. 16.-THE RECRUITING CRISIS.

THE serious political crisis which has again arisen over the question of recruiting illustrates the difficulty which this country has found in adjusting its essentially 18th-century conceptions of war to 20th-century conditions. The division which threatens the existence of the Coalition Cabinet is not one between parties, nor even over particular measures, but rather between two points of view. On the one side are those who regard war as a limited affair waged by governments which levy taxes, raise recruits and purchase munitions from among a community carrying on its usual life so far as possible under somewhat abnormal conditions. On the other are those who realise that modern war is a desperate struggle for existence between nations, where victory can only be won by the nation that can concentrate the energy of every single citizen upon the prosecution of the war, and can subordinate every other consideration or interest to the one supreme aim of victory.

The former school of thought is represented by the Prime Minister and by those of his colleagues who, with him, have stamped the Coalition Government with its peculiar character; by a majority, probably, of the existing House of Commons, including not a few Unionists as well as Liberals, Labour men and Nationalists; and by a considerable element outside. It controls the united caucus of all the political parties and of the Trade Union Executives, and is supported by the whole of the Liberal Press and a considerable, but diminishing, proportion of the Unionist Press outside of London. The latter school has, as yet, no political organisation or acknowledged leader. Some of those who are regarded as embodying its views are, like Mr Lloyd George, uncomfortably quarantined in the Cabinet. Others, like Sir Edward Carson or Lord Milner, are watched, with eager hope or with sullen suspicion, as possible leaders of an Opposition which has yet to come into being. The speeches of Mr Hughes, giving to the same views an expression intensely democratic and at the same time intensely Imperialist, have inspired many with a conviction that

somehow the barriers of our unorganised Imperial system must be surmounted so as to enable the vigour and freshness of Dominion statesmanship to take a direct and continuous part in the conduct of the war.

Which of these two points of view is to prevail? Upon the answer to that question depends the issue of the war and the future of British civilisation. And it is because the recruiting question brings these two conceptions of war into sharpest conflict, no less than because of its intrinsic importance from the military point of view, that it is of such immense significance at the present moment.

When the war began there were two recruiting organisations in existence-the Recruiting Department of the Regular Army, and the recruiting machinery of the Territorial Force Associations. The former recruited about 35,000 men a year, the latter about double that number. So little had the expansion of the Regular Army in war been contemplated that practically all the competent recruiting officers were withdrawn on mobilisation and replaced by 'dug-outs.' The recruiting offices were mostly down some back street in a county town, and all the arrangements, including the interminable forms which required filling up, were based on a maximum daily intake of twenty or thirty recruits at any one office. The recruiting officers' ideas were, as a rule, as limited as the accommodation. The Territorial Associations were much more elastic in composition and in outlook, as well as in touch with much broader strata of the population.

There can be no doubt that, from the point of view of recruiting, as well as from that of organisation, the whole task of raising new armies should have been thrown upon the Territorial Associations, strengthened, where required, by fresh blood in the shape of men of local influence, and helped by any additional staff that the War Office could have provided. Unfortunately Lord Kitchener knew nothing about the Territorial Force or its machinery, and decided that what he wanted was more 'Regular Soldiers' and not more 'Territorials,' and that the raising of these soldiers should be done through the War Office organisation. The Territorials were, however, allowed to do as they pleased, and

eventually, in competition with the War Office organisation, recruited well over half a million more men.

Meanwhile Lord Kitchener opened proceedings by appealing for 100,000 men for his new Army. Recruits came forward, in numbers insignificant compared with subsequent figures, though quite beyond the capacity of the existing recruiting staff or offices. For a few days the New Army hung fire. Then half a dozen enterprising members of Parliament took the matter up in their constituencies, organised recruiting committees on the lines familiar to them in political organisation, commandeered Town Halls and other places suitable for carrying on recruiting on a large scale, and took it upon themselves to authorise medical and clerical staffs, stationery and all other requisites; after which, having proved the success of their method, they secured Lord Kitchener's permission to go round the country and organise the same machinery elsewhere. Other members followed suit; and a few weeks later the effort was systematised in the Parliamentary Recruiting Committee. The whole existing Party machinery was put at its disposal, and a campaign of oratory and organisation was inaugurated. A great wave of enthusiasm, stimulated by the serious news of the retreat from Mons, swept through the country. Within a month the recruiting figures had worked up to 30,000 a day; and the original idea of an extra six divisions had given way to the conception of a British Army of something like continental proportions.

But for this ever-swelling army there was no accommodation, no uniforms available or likely to be available for months, no rifles, no artillery. To go on enlisting meant chaos and overwork at headquarters, discomfort and privation to the men, and an immense waste of public money. On the other hand, it was awkward to admit that nothing had been provided beforehand, and impossible to turn a great popular movement on and off like a tap. The remedy that at once suggested itself was to attest the men as reservists and let them continue at their work till wanted, pushing on at the same time with the recruiting campaign at topmost pressure. By such means it was hoped that practically the whole able-bodied population of fighting age might be induced to attest,