The Man who Missed the War Read Free Page A

society up at Cambridge discussed rearmament last term.’
    ‘So that’s where you got all this stuff, eh?’ smiled Captain Vaudell.
    Philip flushed slightly. ‘Not altogether. I’ve talked these things over with lots of chaps of my age—and we’ve got pretty good reason to be interested, you know. After all, if there is another war it will be we who’ll have to do most of the fighting this time.’
    ‘Do you really think there will be?’ asked the Canon.
    ‘I can’t see what’s to prevent it. My generation is absolutely powerless, and, to be frank, yours seems hypnotised with the extraordinary idea that, having fought the Germans to a stand-still in your youth, there’s nothing more you need do about it.’
    ‘What would you have us do?’
    ‘Do!’ said Philip. ‘Why, take steps to meet the sort of situation we may be called on to face in five years’ time—or less.’
    ‘What steps would you have them take?’ the Canon persisted.
    ‘Well, look at the Army. When the Scots Greys were due to be mechanised they kicked up a fuss, so the order was cancelled and they were allowed to keep their horses. That simply couldn’thappen in any other country, but here the War Office simply said what damn’ good sportsmen they were, and purely on sentimental grounds the future efficiency of one of our crack regiments was sacrificed. The higher ranks of the Army are still packed with fox-hunting squires who haven’t the faintest conception of what the next war is going to be like; yet the foreman of any factory you care to go into could give them a pretty good idea. It will be a war of machines and technicians. It will be fought with giant tanks, motorised artillery, cannon mounted in aeroplanes, television sets, and every other man in it will have to be either a motor mechanic or a wireless expert. Yet, what are we doing to prepare for such a war? Just nothing! We haven’t got a single battery of anti-aircraft guns. Those lunatics at the War Office scrapped the lot after the last war. They scrapped the camouflage units too, and most of the other new ideas that enterprising civilians had succeeded in forcing on them. They won’t hear of giving the infantry sub-machine guns, but still put their faith in the bayonet, and if it weren’t for public opinion I bet they’d have scrapped the Tank Corps too. Their attitude to it is clear enough from the fact that it’s been kept so small.’
    The Admiral had gone a shade pinker, and his voice was a little gruff as he said: ‘That’s all very well, but there’s one thing you seem to forget—money. The Services have to cut their coats according to the cloth they are given. Essentials must come first—barracks, rations, pay, uniforms and so on. Then they have to keep up the equipment they’ve already got. The income-tax payer would have to ante-up quite a bit more in the pound before we could afford to go in for the sort of luxuries you suggest?’
    ‘Yes, to some extent, sir, but not altogether. Doesn’t it depend on what are considered as essentials? For example, what about the six hundred horses of the Scots Greys that are still eating their heads off? Are they essential? And surely it’s better to have one thousand troops equipped with, and trained in the use of, the latest scientific devices for destroying the enemy than two battalions of footsloggers with obsolete weapons?’
    The Admiral passed a pink hand over his bald pate. ‘I’m no soldier, so I can’t answer that one. But tell me, you young fire-eater, just as a matter of interest, what do you consider shouldbe regarded as the first essential by the Royal Navy in preparing for any future war?’
    Philip smiled. ‘That’s easy. There was only one time when Britain stood in real danger of defeat in the last war. That was after the Germans launched their unrestricted U-boat campaign. You’ll know much more about that than I do, sir, but I gather it was absolutely touch and go in 1917. We were losing