At Ypres with Best-Dunkley | Page 6

in September, 1914, when the German

hopes of complete and crushing victory in the West were shattered
(which decision was still more finally confirmed at First Ypres), as
primarily a south-eastern war. I held with that great statesman and
strategist, Mr. Winston Churchill, that Constantinople was "the great
strategic nerve-centre of the world war." I realized that a deadlock had
been reached on the Western Front, and that nothing was to be hoped
from any frontal attack there; and I also realized that Germany held
Constantinople and the Dardanelles--the gateway to the East. And the
trend of German foreign policy and German strategy convinced me that
it was in the Near East that the menace to our Empire lay. There was
our most vulnerable part; while Germany held that gateway, the
glamour of the East, with its possibilities of victories like those of
Alexander, and an empire like that one which was the great Napoleon's
early dream, would always be a great temptation to German strategists.
I therefore always used to assert that "The side which holds
Constantinople when peace terms come to be discussed is the side
which has won the war," and I think the events of September, 1918,
have proved that my view and prophecy were correct. I firmly believe
that if unity of command under Marshal Foch and Sir Henry Wilson,
with the following decisive victories of D'Esperey at Cerna and
Allenby at Armageddon in September, 1918, bringing about the
capitulation of Bulgaria and the Ottoman Empire, and the surrender of
Constantinople to the Allies, had not been attained last year the war
would still be in progress. And I therefore hold that it is impossible to
estimate the debt which the Allies owe to those statesmen who brought
about that unity of command.
But to return to my story. The next day was spent, as usual, on the "bull
ring." On June 1, I find that I recorded the following incident:
"We have been on the 'bull ring' again this morning. The weather is as
hot as ever. While we were down there a German aeroplane flew right
over from one end to the other--north to south. The anti-aircraft guns
were firing at it the whole time, but failed to hit it. It was flying at a
great height, and the shrapnel appeared to be bursting all round it. At
one time it flew directly over our heads; but it did not drop any bombs!
A few minutes after it had passed, bits of shrapnel fell quite near

us--within four or five yards--proving how much overhead it had been.
It was quite exciting, but not quite so much so as it was during those
two minutes at Dover last September. Now the question which arises is:
What was its object? It did not drop any bombs. Its object, therefore,
must have been reconnaissance. I suppose that it came to find out what
number of troops we are moving round this way to the new battlefield
in the north. Even though we may move troops by so roundabout a way,
the enemy is able to find out by means of aircraft. Aircraft makes
manoeuvre in modern warfare intensely difficult."
That same evening orders came through for me to proceed up the line,
but, as the following letter will tell, they were afterwards cancelled,
owing to some mistake:
"June 2nd.
"I had a walk down town yesterday evening. Then I came back and
called at the C.R.E. office to say good-bye to David Morgan. He was
in--writing letters--and I stayed a few minutes; then he walked back
with me part of the way. He wished me the best of luck. We both
expressed a hope that the war would soon be over! 'What a life!' said
Morgan.
"Leigh got up before 4 this morning, as his train up the line left soon
after that. I got up at 6, and had breakfast. My kit was taken down to
the New Siding Station where I had to report at 7.50. The place was, as
usual, crowded with troops waiting to go up the line. There was a train
full of Portuguese troops in the siding. I reported to the R.T.O. He said
'Get in officer's coach marked C, and get out at Béthune.' Then he
suddenly discovered that my name was crossed out. 'I've got your name
crossed off here; I don't think you are to go. You had better stand by a
few minutes while I telephone and find out,' he remarked. He then
telephoned to Headquarters and, after about ten minutes, the reply came
through: 'Not to proceed.' There had been a mistake about the division
or something. Anyhow, I was ordered to return to camp. So I told my
man to take my kit back, and returned.