The Government, the War Office, or whoever it is who settles such things, encourages distinguished visitors to inspect the war. There is a special officer set apart to conduct tourists from place to place and to show them the things they ought to see. He is provided with several motor-cars, a nice château, and a good cook. This is sensible. If you want a visitor to form a favourable opinion of anything, war, industry, or institution, you must make him fairly comfortable and feed him well.
Yet I think that the life of that officer was a tiresome one. There was very little variety in his programme. He showed the same things over and over again, and he heard the same remarks made over and over again about the things he showed. Sometimes, of course, a distinguished visitor with a reputation for originality made a new remark. But that was worse. It is better to have to listen to an intelligent comment a hundred times than to hear an unintelligent thing said once. Any new remark was sure to be stupid, because all the intelligent things had been said before.
To us, who lived in the Con. Camp, distinguished visitors, though common, were not very tiresome. We were not obliged to entertain them for very long at a time. They arrived at the camp about 3.30 p.m., and our C.O. showed them round. After inspecting an incinerator, a tent, a bath, a Y.M.C.A. hut, and a kitchen, they came to the mess for tea. Our C.O. was a man of immense courtesy and tact. He could answer the same question about an incinerator twice a week without showing the least sign of ever having heard it before.
I have often wondered who selected the distinguished visitors, and on what principle the choice was made. Whoever he was he cast his net widely.
Journalists of course abounded, American journalists chiefly—this was in 1916—but we had representatives of Dutch, Norwegian, Swiss, Italian, Spanish, Russian, and South American papers. Once we even had a Roumanian, a most agreeable man, but I never felt quite sure whether he was a journalist or a diplomatist. Perhaps he was both.
Authors—writers of books rather than articles—were common and sometimes were quite interesting, though given to asking too many questions. It ought to be impressed on distinguished visitors that it is their business to listen to what they are told, and not to ask questions.
Politicians often came. We once had a visit from Mr. Lloyd George, but I missed that to my grief.
Generals and staff officers from neutral countries came occasionally in very attractive uniforms.
Doctors always seemed to me more successful than other people in keeping up an appearance of intelligent interest.
Ecclesiastics were dull. They evidently considered it bad form to allude to religion in any way and they did not know much about anything else. But ecclesiastics were rare.