It was during the South African War that General French was able to put his principles into practice, and by so doing he showed how valuable they were. He only just escaped being shut up in Ladysmith;[274] he left it by the last train to take charge of the cavalry division which relieved Kimberley,[275] stopped the retreat of Cronje at Paardeburg,[276] and entered Pretoria.[277] His striking success in South Africa marked him out as the greatest of our cavalry leaders. Naturally we should expect him to be fond of horses. The charger which carried him through the South African War wore a medal round its neck, with a record of its services. When this charger died Sir john was much grieved, and he buried it under a memorial stone at Aldershot.
Sir John French.
Those who know General French well tell us that he has real genius. When he has a problem to solve he seems more like a dreamer than a man of action. Suddenly, however, when he has fully grasped the situation, he springs to his feet, having fully made up his mind what he is going to do and how he is going to do it. He sketches out his plan in the fewest possible words, and frequently astonishes his staff by the daring and novelty of his plans. "Deeds, not words," is his motto, and he fully deserves his nickname, "Silent French." He loves his profession, and no general has ever been so ready to pay such generous tributes to those of his officers and men who deserve them. Amongst the rank and file he is known as "Johnny," and all of them know that their welfare is his chief concern. A chaplain at the front tells us that "no matter how hard he has worked during the day, he always tries to spend a little time in a field hospital at night with the wounded."
Our French allies were delighted that Sir John French had been made commander-in-chief of the British army which was to fight side by side with them. Most of the leading French officers knew him well, and admired him greatly. They were specially pleased that his name was French, and they said that he must be a Frenchman by descent. When they discovered that he had Irish blood in his veins they found a new reason for giving him a hearty welcome. Many Irish soldiers, as you know, have fought bravely and died nobly for France. Before setting out for the front, he paid a flying visit to Paris, and was greeted with loud cheers by the Parisians who lined the streets in his honour.
And now, while millions of men are grasping their rifles, ready for the first clash of arms in this gigantic struggle which will decide the fate of Europe, the first volume of this book comes to an end. The greatest story of the world has yet to be told—a story of strife on a scale far beyond the experiences of mankind, of combats so vast and long enduring that the battles of history seem in comparison but puny skirmishes, of slaughter that has horrified the watching world, and of heroisms that have thrilled it with pride.
"Troops to our Britain true Faring to Flanders, God be with all of you And your commanders. "Fending a little friend, Weak but unshaken— Quick! there's no time to spend, Or the fort's taken. "He hath his all at stake; More can have no man. Quick, ere the barrier break, On to the foeman. "Troops to this Britain true, And your commanders, God be with all of you Fighting in Flanders."