“The Germans are losing the war by this attack on Verdun. They are just pouring their best soldiers into the furnace—burning the flower of their army. It is our gain. It will lead in the end to our victory.”
“But, my dear good fool, what about the French losses? Don't they get killed, too? The German artillery is flogging them with shell-fire from seventeen-inch guns, twelve-inch, nine-inch, every bloody and monstrous engine. The French are weak in heavy artillery. For that error, which has haunted them from the beginning, they are now paying with their life's blood—the life blood of France.”
“You are arguing on emotion and fear. Haven't you learned yet that the attacking side always loses more than the defense?”
“That is a sweeping statement. It depends on relative man-power and gun-power. Given a superiority of guns and men, and attack is cheap. Defense is blown off the earth. Otherwise how could we ever hope to win?”
“I agree. But the forces at Verdun are about equal, and the French have the advantage of position. The Germans are committing suicide.”
“Humbug! They know what they are doing. They are the greatest soldiers in Europe.”
“Led by men with bone heads.”
“By great scientists.”
“By the traditional rules of medievalism. By bald—headed vultures in spectacles with brains like penny-in—the-slot machines. Put in a penny and out comes a rule of war. Mad egoists! Colossal blunderers! Efficient in all things but knowledge of life.”
“Then God help our British G.H.Q.!”