Draft -- Great Britain; Great Britain -- Defenses; World War, 1914-1918
For what will they have to report? That the greater part of the world
which professes Christianity has called out its armies; that more than
half Europe has already joined battle; that England, France, Russia,
Belgium, Servia, and Montenegro on the one side are ranged against
Germany and Austria on the other. Japan, they will tell him, is upon
the point of declaring war. The Turk is wondering if, and when, he may
venture to come in; while the Italian, the Roumanian, the Bulgar, the
Greek, the Dutchman, the Dane, and the Swede are reckoning no less
anxiously for how short or long a period it may still be safe for them
to stand out. Three millions of men, or thereabouts--a British Army
included--are advancing against one another along the mountain barriers
of Luxemburg, Lorraine, and Alsace. Another three millions are engaged
in similar evolutions among the lakes of East Prussia, along the
river-banks of Poland, and under the shadow of the Carpathians. A
large part of Belgium is already devastated, her villages are in ashes
or flames, her eastern fortresses invested, her capital threatened by
the invader.
Nine-tenths or more of the navies of the world are cleared for action,
and are either scouring the seas in pursuit, or are withdrawn under the
shelter of land-batteries watching their opportunity for a stroke.
Air-craft circle by day and night over the cities, dropping bombs, with
a careless and impartial aim, upon buildings both private and public,
both sacred and profane, upon churches, palaces, hospitals, {15} and
arsenals. The North Sea and the Baltic are sown with mines. The trade
of the greater part of industrial Europe is at a standstill; the rest
is disorganised; while the credit and finances, not merely of Europe,
but of every continent, are temporarily in a state either of chaos or
paralysis.
[Sidenote: A NIGHTMARE]
To the bewildered convalescent all this may well have seemed
incredible. It is hardly to be wondered at if he concluded that the
fumes of his fever were not yet dispersed, and that this frightful
phantasmagoria had been produced, not by external realities, but by the
disorders of his own brain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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