Part 12

We British and men of the Dominions did not always feel this way. When we entered the war we determined to remain gentlemen whatever happened. We weren’t going to be vulgar and lose our tempers; we weren’t going to be un-sportsmanly and learn to hate. Though dirty tricks were played on us, we would still play fair. Our code of honour demanded it. There should be no retaliation. Then came the Germans’ employment of gas, his flame attacks, his submarining of merchantmen, his bombing of hospitals and civilian towns. You can’t play fair with an enemy who flies the flag of truce that he may shoot you in the back. Tit for tat was the only code of honour which came within the comprehension of such a ruffian. It took three years for us to stoop to the bombing of the Rhine towns. The wisdom of the step has been proved; the children of London now sleep safely in their beds. In my opinion, at least in as far as the British armies are concerned, the success of the present offensive has just one meaning: after four years of gallant smiling our soldiers have attained a righteous anger—a determination to exact a just revenge. They no longer make lenient discriminations between Germany and her rulers. They know now that the breath of every individual German is tainted with the odour of carnage. What makes our anger more bitter is the shame that Germany should have forced us to stoop to hatred as a weapon. But there is only one safe principle upon which to act in dealing with Germany, whether in fighting her or making peace with her: With whatever measure she metes, it should be measured to her again. Brute force is the only reasoning she understands.

The Imperial Chancellor has appealed for peace “in the interest of suffering humanity.” Even in his cry for mercy he speaks vaingloriously, boasting of the “incomparable heroism” of his mob of brutes who have made humanity suffer.

In not one line of his appeal is there a hint of polite regret. By the time you read this letter, this particular peace overture will be ancient history, but there will be many more of them, each one more sentimental and frantic as our armies batter their way nearer to Germany’s complacent smiling towns. As these peace overtures arrive, as they will almost daily, there is a saying of Richard Hooker’s which I wish every American would repeat night and morning as a vow and prayer. It is a saying which was in my mind on the dawn of 8th August, when we sailed out into the morning mist on the great Amiens attack. It is a saying which was unconsciously in the mind of every British soldier; its stern righteousness explains our altered attitude and the Cromwellian strength with which we strike. “Lord, I owe thee a death,” said Richard Hooker. Whether we be soldiers or civilians, we each one owe the Lord a Hun death for the accumulated horror that has taken place. Such blasphemies against God’s handiwork cannot be wiped out with words. To make peace before the Hun has paid his righteous debt, is to shorten God’s right arm and to make sacrifice seem trivial. We are not fighting to crush individuals or nations, but against a strongly fortified vileness and to prove that righteousness still triumphs in the world. If at the first whimpering our hearts are touched and we allow the evil to escape its punishment, it will sneak off with a cunning leer about its mouth to lick its wounds into health that it may take a future generation unawares. Mercy at this juncture would be spiritual slovenliness. God has given the Allies a task to accomplish; He has made us His avengers that, when our work is ended, He may create a new heaven upon earth.