To sum up one’s impression of French sentiment towards England during the first eighteen months of war one is bound to admit a certain element of disappointment, due, undoubtedly, to ignorance and misconception. The French public expected—as did we—a dramatic naval action to begin with. This Germany’s cautious tactics denied. Furthermore, our Allies did us the compliment of imagining we could achieve the impossible; and when it was found that our small Expeditionary Force could take but a slight share in the operations, attention in France was concentrated upon our National Service system, and exasperation grew as our politicians played with the issues of life and death. But this irritation is merely superficial, and is evidence of the strain felt by a highly strung, nervous people, forced to stand still, for long months, while part of their beloved country lay under the heel of the invader. Nothing can ever change the deep and lasting friendship between two peoples who have borne the same burden, shared the same horror, nursed the same hopes and fears. The understanding between England and France is no longer simply an _entente_; it is a brotherhood of tears. *CHAPTER XIV* *SOME TYPES OF COMMANDERS* The Generalissimo was, in a certain sense, less known than any of his Generals, for though much had been written of him, but little was really apprehended of his silent and uncommunicative nature. As the head of a powerful and almost anonymous organisation, he lived in a semi-seclusion. No politician could boast that he had his ear, for he kept himself rigidly from such influences. His popularity with the masses was remarkable, and his name became a symbol for economy in lives. None the less he dwelt apart in an atmosphere removed from all clamour and excitation, apparently unconscious of the intrigues about him. This segregation carried with it the disability of its advantage, for it involved a certain inaccessibility to political necessities, which even the strongest commander has to consult at times. "Moral effect" had infinitely less weight with him than military utility; indeed, it seemed hardly to exist in his vocabulary, and probably he bracketed this species of popularity and concession to the crowd with that private and subterranean influence of which he was perpetually afraid. Rigid in his solitariness he watched the conflagration from a lonely hill, silhouetted against the glowing sky, and none could say that he had pierced to his inmost thoughts. Nor in the greater part of his career had he been in close touch with army life, for his occupations took him to distant climes where he engaged in road and railway, bridge and even town construction, thus removing him from military routine and strengthening those powers of reflection and cold, dispassionate survey which are his chief claims to a grateful consideration. And, doubtless, the desert and the jungle taught him