That afternoon I determined to try and find out all I could about the army from some of my friends at the Assembly.
“You are very indiscreet,” said the officer, whose attention I had managed to secure.
“I know that,” was my reply; “it is a little like asking St. Peter for just a peep into Heaven. But you can tell me something?”
“What do you wish to know? Our normal military service is for three years. We naturally have to adopt conscription for an indefinite period in times of war.”
“What was the meaning of the large crowd at the Town Hall to-day?”
“They were enlisting. We cannot let go now. The sovereign rights of the people must be maintained.”
“You were beaten to the dust in the Great War,” I suggested.
“We were defeated in Palestine. But most of our troops went to Cilicia; we were victorious in the Dardanelles and the Caucasus. Few of the Powers were forced to scatter their forces along so many frontiers.
“The English were nowhere near Mosul,” he went on, “and they never really broke up our army; they just took possession of Constantinople and, through the Greeks, of Smyrna. They taught us the fait accompli.