Then the sea-coast cities began to call to Washington. By telegraph and telephone they demanded protection. It was a chorus from Maine to Georgia. Into the White House thronged the Congressmen. “Defend us! Defend our people! Defend our towns!” said they.[8] “We cannot do it!” said the Chief of Staff. “No wit of man can guess at what point of many hundred miles the enemy will strike. He may land on the New Jersey coast to take Philadelphia. He may land on Long Island to march at New York. He may strike at Boston. He may land between Boston and New York, on the Rhode Island or Massachusetts coasts, and keep us guessing whether he’ll turn west to New York or east to Boston. He may even strike for both at once, from there.” “Then why not put men into each place to protect it?” demanded a Congressman. “Are these great cities to be left wide open?” “You know how many regulars we’ve got. Do you know how many effective men we’ve pulled together by calling out those eastern divisions of organized militia? Their enrolled strength is 50,000 men. Their actual active strength as shown by attendance figures has been only about 30 per cent. of that; but we were lucky.[9] This danger has brought out all, probably, that were able to come. Still, there are less than 30,000 men; and not quite half of those have had good field training. We need them. We need them so badly that we’re putting them all in the first line. But it’s a little bit like--well, it’s murder.” “Then you mean to say--!” The Congressman was aghast. “I mean to say,” answered the Chief of Staff, with a set face, “that the army is going to take what it has, and do its best. But it’s going to do it in its own way. No enemy will dream of landing an invading army unless it is decisively, over-poweringly superior to our own. Now, Congressman, the only way for an inferior army to accomplish anything is to refuse battle until the chances are as favorable as they can be made. The inferior force must retire before a superior. It must force the invader to follow till he is weakened by steadily lengthening lines of communications. His difficulties of food-and ammunition-transport grow. He becomes involved in strange terrain. Last but not least, he gets more and more deeply into a land filled with a hostile population. But if we must defend a specific place at all hazards, then we must stand and give battle--well, it will be only one battle.” “You mean--?” “I mean that such a battle is decided already. It was decided years ago--when the country refused to prepare.” “Good God, man!” The Congressman wiped his forehead with a trembling, fat hand. “I can’t go back and tell my people that.” “You’d better not,” said the General, grimly. _No Men to Defend the Harbor Works_