All this is most natural, and just what we should expect from high-minded, gallant fellows. But it is entirely unwarranted. I utterly abhor the swivel-chair slacker who got some safe job in order to avoid doing his duty at the front. But for the hundreds of thousands of young Americans in the ranks or with commissions who did everything they could to get in the firing lines, and who through no fault of theirs failed, I have precisely the same feeling that I have for the men who took part in the most dangerous work. General Leonard Wood, in his recent capital address, has taught the right lesson to these men. He was dismissing to their homes the men whom he had trained with his usual, extraordinary capacity to fit them for work overseas, and he dwelt to them upon the fact that the all-important point was that they should remember that it was not the position they achieved, but the eager readiness to do duty in whatever position they were given that really counted. General Wood has himself been treated with the most cruel injustice in this war, yet he has rendered signal service in bringing before Congress our military needs, and, above all, in training scores of thousands of our best fighting men. When he was denied, from the very meanest motives, the chance to fill a distinguished position, instead of sulking he devoted all of his energy to doing the best he could in the positions to which he was assigned. In consequence he comes out of the war as one of those who most materially helped to win it. What is true of him in a big place is true of every other soldier, whether in a big or little place. The hardest task was for the men who were denied the chance of glory, and if they did this hard task well and served faithfully wherever they were assigned, they have exactly the same right for pride in their participation in the Great War as any of the gallant fellows who have come back maimed or crippled from the front. All alike have made the rest of us forever their debtors, and to all alike we pay the same meed of loyal admiration and respect.
THE BRITISH NAVY, THE FRENCH ARMY, AND AMERICAN COMMON SENSE
December 17, 1918
The first essential in an alliance is loyalty. The first effort of an enemy to an alliance is to produce disloyalty to one another among the Allies. To any man who knows anything of history these facts are of bromidic triteness. But the Administration, as usual, stands in urgent need of learning the elements of fair play and common sense.
It was announced from the peace ship that President Wilson was going to work for the reduction of naval armaments and for a form of naval agreement which, if it had existed four years ago, would have meant Germany’s victory and the subjugation of not only Germany’s foes, but of all neutrals like ourselves. At the same time over here the representatives of the Administration are demanding a navy bigger than that of Great Britain. The only possible interpretation of these facts is that the Administration proposes to threaten Great Britain with having to get in a neck-and-neck competition with America to build the greatest navy in the world, and to do this as a bluff so as to make for Great Britain’s adherence to Mr. Wilson’s exceedingly nebulous ideas.
Under these conditions the American people should, with common sense, look at what their own needs are and at what the needs of their allies are. Sooner or later any programme will have to be tested by its results, and even if the United States started to emulate Great Britain’s navy, the enthusiasm to do so would vanish when it appeared that there was no earthly interest of ours to be served by the action.
In winning the present war very many instrumentalities have been necessary. On the whole the four most important in their order have been: (1) the French army; (2) the British navy; (3) the British army; (4) the Italian army. Our own gallant army and navy did exceedingly well, but came in so late that the part they played, taking the four and a half years as a whole, does not entitle them to rank with the instrumentalities given above.
Great Britain is an island, separated from the huge military commonwealths of Europe by very narrow seas, and separated from her own greatest colonies by all the greatest oceans. To her, supremacy in the navy is a matter of life and death. America ought to have a first-class navy, but if she did not have a ship she might yet secure herself from any invasion. But Great Britain’s empire would not last one week, and she could not make herself safe at home one week if her navy lost its supremacy. Incidentally to saving herself, the British navy has rendered incalculable service to us during the last four and one-half years, and for the last thirty years has been a shield to the United States. Great Britain is not a military power in the sense that any of the nations of continental Europe, or indeed of Asia, are military powers. She had almost as much difficulty in developing her army in this war as we had in developing our army. Her army is no more of a threat to other peoples than ours is. Therefore, we Americans find ourselves, as regards the British navy, in this position, that it is of vital consequence to Great Britain to have the greatest navy in the world; it is emphatically not of any consequence to us to have as big a navy as Great Britain, for we are not in the slightest danger from Great Britain, and under all ordinary circumstances the British navy can be counted upon as a help to the United States and never as a menace. Under such circumstances to set ourselves to work to build a navy in rivalry to Great Britain’s, and above all to do this as a political bluff, is worse than silly.
Our own navy should be ample to protect our own coasts and to maintain the Monroe Doctrine. There are in Europe and Asia several great military commonwealths, each one of which will in all probability always possess a far more formidable army than ours, even though, as I earnestly hope, we adopt some development of universal military training on the lines of the Swiss system. Therefore, it is of the highest consequence that our navy should be second to that of Great Britain.
The analogy with the case of the French army is complete. If the French army had not been able to hold the German army and be the chief factor in the German military overthrow, the British navy could not have averted Germany’s complete victory. Great Britain is separated by the narrow seas from the military powers of continental Europe. We are separated from them by the width of the ocean. Under the circumstances, it is sheer impertinence for either American or English statesmen to tell France, or, for that matter Italy, what ought to be done in abolishing armaments or abandoning universal service or anything of the kind. The interest of France and Italy in the matter is vital. The interest of England and America is partly secondary. If we have well-thought-out arguments to put before the French, put them before them, but treat France as having the vital interest in the matter, and therefore the final say-so as far as we are concerned. And when France has determined what the needs of the future demand, so far as her military preparedness is concerned, and when Italy has made a similar determination, and our other allies likewise, back them up. It is not the business of America to tell Great Britain what she should do with her navy. It is not the business of either America or England to tell France what she should do with her army. The plain American common sense of the situation is that we should recognize our immense debt to the British navy and the French army, and stand by Britain in what she decides her vital needs demand so far as her navy is concerned, and stand by France in the position she takes as to what the situation demands so far as her army is concerned.