The Last Million: How They Invaded France—and England — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The Last Million: How They Invaded France—and England
John Stuart Mill · en
If the American soldier has one characteristic which singles him out
from the rest of the Allies, it is that Home is seldom absent from his
thoughts—possibly because he is farther away from home than any one else.
It is true that more water rolls between, say, France and Australia, than
between France and America. But then to the Australian England itself
is Home. In his own land he still refers to her as such. The true exile
in this war is the American-born Doughboy. In most cases he has never
been outside his own great and beautiful land before, for the simple
reason that he has always found abundant elbow-room therein; and if the
desire to roam has ever possessed him, he has been able to gratify it
without stepping off the soil of his country or even beyond the border
of his own State. Therein he is in different case from the inhabitants
of those congested islets, Great Britain and Ireland, many of whose
younger sons are thrust out in early life by the concomitant forces of
natural increase and external pressure from the land of their birth to
seek a living in distant portions of the globe—and in so doing have quite
inadvertently created that unmethodical, loosely connected organization
known as the British Empire, which is either a federation of free
communities, providing decent government where otherwise there would be
no government at all, or else a voracious octopus, according to the way
you look at it.
But the American soldier, being for the most part familiar with no
country but his own, adapts himself less happily to foreign conditions
than Britons who have been schooled by stern necessity to make themselves
equally comfortable in Wei-Hai-Wei or Wigan. Add to this the natural
outspoken American affection for, and belief in, American institutions
and mode of life, and you will understand why American troops on the
march through Europe will cheer themselves hoarse at the sight of such
reminders of Home as an American policeman directing the traffic in a
French town, or an imported American locomotive puffing along a French
railroad.