able to turn out officers at the rate of seventy-five a month. This has since been increased to 100.

Reports received from divisional and army corps commanders on officers who have been trained at the school are most satisfactory.

10. Since the date of my last report I have been able to make a close personal inspection of all the units in the command. I was most favorably impressed by all I saw.

The troops composing the army in France have been subjected to as severe a trial as it is possible to impose upon any body of men. The desperate fighting described in my last dispatch had hardly been brought to a conclusion when they were called upon to face the rigors and hardships of a Winter campaign. Frost and snow have alternated with periods of continuous rain.

The men have been called upon to stand for many hours together almost up to their waists in bitterly cold water, only separated by one or two hundred yards from a most vigilant enemy.

Although every measure which science and medical knowledge could suggest to mitigate these hardships was employed, the sufferings of the men have been very great.

In spite of all this they presented, at the inspections to which I have referred, a most soldierlike, splendid, though somewhat war-worn, appearance. Their spirit remains high and confident; their general health is excellent, and their condition most satisfactory.

I regard it as most unfortunate that circumstances have prevented any account of many splendid instances of courage and endurance, in the face of almost unparalleled hardship and fatigue in war, coming regularly to the knowledge of the public.

Reinforcements have arrived from England with remarkable promptitude and rapidity. They have been speedily drafted into the ranks, and most of the units I inspected were nearly complete when I saw them. In appearance and quality the drafts sent out have exceeded my most sanguine expectations, and I

De

consider the army in France is much indebted to the Adjutant General's partment at the War Office for the efficient manner in which its requirements have been met in this most essential respect.

With regard to these inspections I may mention in particular the fine appearance presented by the Twentyseventh and Twenty-eighth Divisions, composed principally of battalions which had come from India. Included in the former division was the Princess Patricia's Royal Canadian Regiment. They are a magnificent set of men, and have since done excellent work in the trenches.

It was some three weeks after the events recorded in Paragraph 4 that I made my inspection of the Indian Corps, under Sir James Willcocks. The appearance they presented was most satisfactory and fully confirmed my opinion that the Indian troops only required rest and a little acclimatizing to bring out all their fine inherent fighting qualities.

I saw the whole of the Indian Cavalry Corps, under Lieut. Gen. Rimington, on a mounted parade soon after their arrival. They are a magnificent body of cavalry and will, I feel sure, give the best possible account of themselves when called upon.

In the meantime, at their own particular request, they have taken their turn in the trenches and performed most useful and valuable service.

11. The Right Rev. Bishop Taylor Smith, C. V. O., D. D., Chaplain General to the Forces, arrived at my headquarters on Jan. 6, on a tour of inspection throughout the command.

The Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster has also visited most of the Irish regiments at the front and the principal centres on the line of communications.

In a quiet and unostentatious manner the Chaplains of all denominations have worked with devotion and energy in their respective spheres.

The number with the forces in the field at the commencement of the war was comparatively small, but toward the end of last year the Rev. J. M. Simms, D. D.,

K. H. C., principal Chaplain, assisted by his secretary, the Rev. W. Drury, reorganized the branch and placed the spiritual welfare of the soldier on a more satisfactory footing. It is hoped that the further increase of personnel may be found possible.

I cannot speak too highly of the devoted manner in which all the Chaplains, whether with the troops in the trenches or in attendance on the sick and wounded in casualty clearing stations and hospitals on the line of communications, have worked throughout the campaign.

Since the commencement of hostilities the work of the Royal Army Medical Corps has been carried out with untiring zeal, skill, and devotion. Whether at the front under conditions such as obtained during the fighting on the Aisne, when casualties were heavy and accommodation for their reception had to be improvised, or on the line of communications, where an average of some 11,000 patients have been daily under treatment, the organization of the medical service has always been equal to the demands made upon it.

The careful system of sanitation introduced into the army has, with the assistance of other measures, kept the troops free from any epidemic, in support of which it is to be noticed that since the commencement of the war some 500 cases only of enteric have occurred.

The organization for the first time in war of motor ambulance convoys is due to the initiative and organizing powers of Surgeon General T. J. O'Donnell, D. S. O., ably assisted by Major P. Evans, Royal Army Medical Corps.

Two of these convoys, composed entirely of Red Cross Society personnel, have done excellent work under the superintendence of regular medical officers.

Twelve hospital trains ply between the front and the various bases. I have visited several of the trains when halted in stations, and have found them conducted with great comfort and efficiency.

During the more recent phase of the campaign the creation of rest depots at

the front has materially reduced the wastage of men to the line of communications.

Since the latter part of October, 1914, the whole of the medical arrangements have been in the hands of Surgeon General Sir A. T. Sloggett, C. M. G., K. H. S., under whom Surgeon General T. P. Woodhouse and Surgeon General T. J. O'Donnell have been responsible for the organization on the line of communications and at the front respectively.

12. The exceptional and peculiar conditions brought about by the weather have caused large demands to be made upon the resources and skill of the Royal Engineers.

Every kind of expedient has had to be thought out and adopted to keep the lines of trenches and defense work effective.

The Royal Engineers have shown themselves as capable of overcoming the ravages caused by violent rain and floods as they have been throughout in neutralizing the effect of the enemy's artillery.

In this connection I wish particularly to mention the excellent services performed by my Chief Engineer, Brig. Gen. G. H. Fowke, who has been indefatigable in supervising all such work. His ingenuity and skill have been most valuable in the local construction of the various expedients which experience has shown to be necessary in prolonged trench warfare.

13. I have no reason to modify in any material degree my views of the general military situation, as expressed in my dispatch of Nov. 20, 1914.

14. I have once more gratefully to acknowledge the valuable help and support I have received throughout this period from Gen. Foch, Gen. D'Urbal, and Gen. Maud'huy of the French Army. I have the honor to be, your Lordship's most obedient servant,

J. D. P. FRENCH, Field Marshal, Commanding in Chief, the British Army in the Field.

Watch over thee, emblazoned on thy walls, Tell me, within thy memory-hallowed halls What chant of triumph, or what war-song rings?

Thou hast known Clovis and his Frankish train,

Whose mighty hand Saint Remy's hand did keep

And in thy spacious vault perhaps may sleep
An echo of the voice of Charlemagne.
For God thou hast known fear, when from
His side

Men wandered, seeking alien shrines and new,
But still the sky was bountiful and blue
And thou wast crowned with France's love
and pride.

Sacred thou art, from pinnacle to base:
And in thy panes of gold and scarlet glass
The setting sun sees thousandfold his face;
Sorrow and joy, in stately silence pass
Across thy walls, the shadow and the light;
Around thy lofty pillars, tapers white
Illuminate, with delicate sharp flames,
The brows of saints with venerable names,
And in the night erect a fiery wall,
A great but silent fervor burns in all
Those simple folk who kneel, pathetic, dumb,
And know that down below, beside the Rhine-
Cannon, horses, soldiers, flags in line-
With blare of trumpets, migthy armies come.

Suddenly, each knows fear;

Swift rumors pass, that every one must hear, The hostile banners blaze against the sky And by the embassies mobs rage and cry. Now war has come, and peace is at an end, On Paris town the German troops descend. They turned back, and driven to Champagne. And now, as to so many weary men,

The glorious temple gives them welcome, when,

It meets them at the bottom of the plain.

At once, they set their cannon in its way.
There is no gable now, nor wall
That does not suffer, night and day,
As shot and shell in crushing torrents fall,
The stricken tocsin quivers through the

tower;

The triple nave, the apse, the lonely choir Are circled, hour by hour,

With thundering bands of fire And Death is scattered broadcast among

men.

And then

That which was splendid with baptismal

grace:

The stately arches soaring into space,

The transepts, columns, windows gray and gold,

The organ, in whose tones the ocean rolled, The crypts, of mighty shades the dwelling places,

The Virgin's gentle hands, the Saints' pure faces,

All, even the pardoning hands of Christ the Lord

Were struck and broken by the wanton sword

Of sacrilegious lust.

O beauty slain, O glory in the dust !
Strong walls of faith, most basely over-

thrown!

The crawling flames, like adders glistening Ate the white fabric of this lovely thing. Now from its soul arose a piteous moan. The soul that always loved the just and fair.

Granite and marble loud their woe confessed, The silver monstrances that Pope has blessed,

The chalices and lamps and crosiers rare Were seared and twisted by a flaming breath;

The horror everywhere did rage and swell, The guardian Saints into this furnace fell, Their bitter tears and screams were stilled in death.

Around the flames armed hosts are skirmishing,

The burning sun reflects the lurid scene; The German Army fighting for its life, Rallies its torn and terrified left wing;

And, as they near this place The imperial eagles see Before them in their flight, Here, in the solemn night,

The old cathedrals, to the years to be Showing, with wounded arms, their own disgrace.

T

HE most useful thing that a civilian can do in these busy days is to speak as little as possible, and if he feels moved to write, to confine his efforts to his check book. [Laughter.] But this is an exception to that very sound rule. We do not know the present strength of the new armies. Even if we did it would not be necessary to make it public. But we may assume that there are several battalions in Great Britain which were not in existence at the end of last July, and some of them are in London. Nor is it any part of our national policy to explain how far these battalions are prepared for the work which is ahead of them. They were born quite rightly in silence. But that is no reason why they should continue to walk in silence for the rest of their lives. [Cheers.] Unfortunately up to the present most of them have been obliged to walk in silence or to no better accompaniment than whistles and concertinas and other meritorious but inadequate instruments of music with which they have provided themselves. In the beginning this did not matter so much. More urgent needs had to be met; but now that the new armies are what they are, we who cannot assist them by joining their ranks owe it to them to provide them with more worthy music for their help, their gratification, and their honor. [Cheers.]

I am not a musician, so if I speak as a barbarian I must ask you and several gentlemen on the platform here to forgive me. From the lowest point of view a few drums and fifes in the battalion mean at least five extra miles in a route march, quite apart from the fact that they can swing a battalion back to quarters happy and composed in its mind, no matter how wet or tired its body may

be. Even when there is no route marching, the mere come and go, the roll and flourishing of drums and fifes around the barracks is as warming and cheering as the sight of a fire in a room. A band, not necessarily a full band, but a band of a dozen brasses and wood-winds, is immensely valuable in the district where men are billeted. It revives memories, it quickens association, it opens and unites the hearts of men more surely than any other appeal can, and in this respect it aids recruiting perhaps more than any other agency. I wonder whether I should say this-the tune that it employs and the words that go with that tune are sometimes very remote from heroism or devotion, but the magic and the compelling power is in them, and it makes men's souls realize certain truths that their minds might doubt.

Further, no one, not even the Adjutant, can say for certain where the soul of the battalion lives, but the expression of that soul is most often found in the band. [Cheers.] It stands to reason that 1,200 men whose lives are pledged to each other must have some common means of expression, some common means of conveying their moods and their thoughts to themselves and their world. The band feels the moods and interprets the thoughts. A wise and sympathetic bandmaster-and the masters that I have met have been that-can lift a battalion out of depression, cheer it in sickness, and steady and recall it to itself in times of almost unendurable stress. [Cheers.] You may remember a beautiful poem by Sir Henry Newbolt, in which he describes how a squadron of weary big dragoons were led to renewed effort by the strains of a penny whistle and a child's drum taken from a toyshop in a wrecked French town. I remember in India, in a

cholera camp, where the men were suffering very badly, the band of the Tenth Lincolns started a regimental sing-song and went on with that queer, defiant tune, "The Lincolnshire Poacher." It was their regimental march that the men had heard a thousand times. There was nothing in it-nothing except all England, all the East Coast, all the fun and daring and horse play of young men bucketing about big pastures in the moonlight. But as it was given, very softly at that bad time in that terible camp of death, it was the one thing in the world that could have restored, as it did restore, shaken men back to their pride, humor, and self-control. [Cheers.] This may be an extreme instance, but it is not an exceptional one. Any man who has had anything to do with the service will tell you that the battalion is better for music at every turn, happier, more easily handled, with greater zest in its daily routine, if that routine is sweetened with melody and rhythm-melody for the mind and rhythm for the body.

Our new armies have been badly served in this essential. Of all the admirable qualities which they have shown none is more wonderful than the spirit which has carried them through the laborious and distasteful groundwork of their calling without one note of music, except that which the same indomitable spirit provided out of their own heads. We have all seen them marching through the country, through the streets of London, in absolute silence and the crowds through which they passed as silent as themselves for the lack of the one medium that could convey and glorify the thoughts that are in us all today.

We are a tongue-tied brood at the best. The bands can declare on our behalf

without shame and without shyness something of what we all feel and help us to reach a hand toward the men who have risen up to save us. In the beginning the more urgent requirements of the new armies overrode all other considerations. Now we can get to work on some other essentials. The War Office has authorized the formation of bands for some of the London battalions, and we may hope presently to see the permission extended throughout Great Britain. We must not, however, cherish unbridled musical ambitions, because a full band means more than forty pieces, and on that establishment we should even now require a rather large number of men; but I think it might be possible to provide drums and fifes for every battalion, full bands at the depots, and a proportion of battalion bands on half, or even onethird, establishments.

But this is not a matter to be settled by laymen; it must be discussed seriously between bandmasters and musicianspresent, past, and dug up. [Laughter.] They may be trusted to give their services with enthusiasm. We have had many proofs in the last six months that people only want to know what the new army needs, and it will be gladly and cheerfully given. The army needs music, its own music, for, more than in any other calling, soldiers do not live by bread alone. From time immemorial the man who offers his life for his land has been compassed at every turn of his service with elaborate ceremonial and observance, of which music is no small part, all carefully designed to support and uphold him. It is not seemly and it is not expedient that any portion of that ritual should be slurred or omitted now. [Cheers.]