LLOYD GEORGE SPEAKS OUT

Evening Star, Issue 21619, 15 January 1934, Page 5

LLOYD GEORGE SPEAKS OUT

A MARVEL THAT WE WOH THE WAR AT ALL [By Tom Clarke, in ‘John o’ London’s . Weekly.’] As I pick up this hook—‘ War Memories of David Lloyd George ’ (Vol. II.) —there comes to memory a picture of the merry farmer of Churt. 1 was with him a few days ago. What a man! Seventy years old, silver-haired, yet alert of step and of eye and mind. Could that man who hustled me through his Surrey orchard be the i>amc man whose nightmare book on war I am now reading? “I do not want politics again,” he had ruefully laughed; “this (waving a chubby hand at the countryside smiling in the autumn sun) —this is the life. A new freedom! A new era began for mo here on my farm.”

Reading his book I see the deep meaning of those words. It is hard to believe that that most human bundle of good-natured, bubbling humanity can have gone through these “ bloody futilities ” of which, he writes. He bears no sign of it. That, to me, is one of the miracles of the. War. Most of his fellow-leaders in that great human drama have gone, worn out, from the stage of life. Lloyd George looks like going on for ever. To you and me, who were mere numbers in the War, this book will come as a shocking revelation of the ineptitude of many of our masters. Had we suspected as we sang our ‘ Tipperary' and marched to the slaughter—had we suspected then that those in whom we had such blind faith were often the fools this book reveals them to have been—well, anything might have happened. The truth is here at last, confessed, by an ex-Prime Minister of England. It is a marvel that we won the War.

A nightmare book'in truth! A dismal story of incredible blunders, of stupid rivalries between statesmen and soldiers, of the squandering of life and money with criminal prodigality, of failure after failure in diplomacy and in strategy. There are, of couse, successes and triumphs kc record. 1 wanted to give you stories from this book; but, really, there is only one story in it. It cannot be evaded. It is the story of Lloyd George battling all the time against miserable incompetence, opposition, and lack of vision. It is true this is one man’s own record, yet it bears the stamp of sincerity. The claims he makes for himself are .documented. He appears a shining light in glooni, and I,think his case is made out beyond serious challenge. The book carries Lloyd George’s story of the War to the end of 1916. Here we see him getting his big push on at the Ministry of Munitions. The War was becoming a matter for the engineer and the chemist (they finally dominated the battlefield), and he went out for men of authority and experience and decision, men of “ Push and Go ” to help him. Things were looking like stalemate. The tale of heart-breaking opposition of the War Department to new ideas is too ‘long to tell here. Ultimately Lloyd George won independence of them and got the men he wanted, men without the rigid mentality of the War Office.

I well remember his famous quest for the “ Man of Push and Go.” We never heard who the man was, and inquiries of Lloyd George ,in recent times have failed to bring an answer to the riddle. I doubt if there was such a man.' Lloyd George, I surmise, invented this legendary giant. The “Man of Push and Go” was, I suspect, one of those deliberate illusions with which “the war environment is always peopled to keep up the spirits of the combatants.”

Choosing men must be ,a fascinating business. When I recently asked Lloyd George about it he said he always sought for someone better than himself, and then gave me a homily on the folly of men in authority fearing to encourage brilliant men because they might become rivals for their jobs. In choosing his “Push and Go” supermen he looked for a great deal more than ability and experience. -He looked above all for vision and the courage to act.

• Here are stories of some of these men;—

Dr Weizmanu was an unknown professor of chemistry recommended by C. P. Scott, editor, ‘Manchester Guardian.’ “As soon as I met him I realised he was a very remarkable perr sonality. I told him we were in a chemical dilemma. In a few weeks he came and said: ‘ The problem is' solved.’ ” His discovery—making acetone from maize and later from horse-chestnuts--helped to win the War. His reward is recorded thus: “ When our difficulties were solved through Dr Weizmann’s genius 1 said: ‘ I should like to recommend you to His Majesty for some honour.’ He said: ’There is nothing I want for myself. ... 1 would like you to do

something for my people.’ He explained his aspirations-as to the repatriation of the Jews to the sacred land they had made famous. That was the fount and origin of the famous declaration about the National Home for Jews in Palestine.”

Lord Chetwynd: ’‘We told him to build and run a factory that would fill a thousand tons a week of high explosive into shells. In glorious independence, he designed his own plant and processes. A bread-making plant did the mixing. . . . A Zeppelin tried to bomb the factory. Rumour spread that Lord Chetwynd had caught three German spies trying to signal and had shot them. He was prompt to turn it to account, so he set a sentry over an empty room, and at night made a labourer dig three graves. Into these he put stones and filled them in, with a black post at the head of each. That turned rumour into unquestioned history and discouraged would-be spies from prying round. “ The great bulk of the labour (in the shell-filling factories) was unskilled women.,Their courage has never been sufficiently realised. . . . One of the perils was toxic jaundice, from T.N.T. poisoning. The ailment turned their faces a bright and repulsive yellow. The poor girls were nicknamed by their associates outside as ‘ canaries. In 1916 there were 181 eases of toxic jaundice, of which 52 ended fatally, and in 1917 there were 189 cases, with 44 deaths.”

In seven months from this “ Push and Go ” start there were 73 new national factories at work. By the end of the War there were 270 shell, projectile and explosive factories, which turned out altogether 40,143,300 _of their steel messengers of destruction and death. Here are sidelights picked at random:

“Kitchener objected to battalions having more than four machine guns; but they. had the equivalent of 80 by the end of the .War, In 1914 the out-

put was 287 at £162 apiece. In 1918 it was 120,864 at £74. “ The famous Stokes gun was rejected as worthless by the War Office. A gift of £20,000 from an unnamed Indian maharajah enabled Lloyd George to start making it independently, and it caught on.” Lloyd George reveals how he escaped going to his death with Kitchener. It had been arranged they should travel to Russia together in the illfated' Hampshire, but the Irish rebellion came, and, at Mr Asquith’s request, Lloyd George took in hand the situation in Ireland. “My he says, “ at least I owe to Ireland. A fascinating narrative of how conscription came early in 1916, after months of dilly-dally, disclose that over a million single men had refused to attest under the Derby scheme, but that we had already raised voluntarily no fewer than 5,041,000 men. Lloyd George was accused of “abandoning Liberalism, but he had never regarded conscription as anti-democratic. The seeds of disintegration of the Liberal Party had, however, been sown. He felt a “ chilled atmosphere.” He was never forgiven “by those whose futility in a grave emergency has doomed Liberalism to a generation of querulous impotence.” He thinks that Percy Illingworth, then Chief Whip, might have kept the Liberal leaders from separating, but he had died of typhoid through eating a bad oyster. What trifling incidents often precipitate important events! A rotten mollusc poisoned the whole Liberal Party for years and left it enfeebled. ... War has always been fktal to Liberalism.”

The main story strides on. There is an inevitableness about events. , Destiny has already marked Lloyd George for leadership of the nation in its peril. Kitchener has passed on, leaving an empty place at the War Office. Lloyd George goes there to control those who once had thwarted him. There is peace talk—defeatest talk. He throws out a sharp challenge. He calls' for a “Knock-out Blow,” and gets a rap on the knuckles from Lord Grey. He laughs back and says: “I could commit a* serviceable indiscretion; you could not.” He takes us into the Cabinet room, where the great men are discussing Lord Lansdowne’s peace move—-Lord Grey “ non-committal and hesitating,” Mr Balfour offering “stray reflections,” Mr Henderson warning against premature peace, Lord Robert Cecil arguing that “ we are bound to continue,” and Mr Asquith finally deciding that “the time had not yet arrived for peace feelers.” ( ' •

Food supplies became critical. There is need of a Food Controller. At one time London had two days’ wheat supply left. L.G. presses for a conference of Allied political and military leaders to co-ordinate a policy and strategy campaign for 1917, especially on the Eastern front. It comes to nothing but the talk of trained dialecticians. Proud and stupid generals continue to. block that sort of civilian interference. There is nothing for it but “ the old fatuous tactics of hammering away with human flesh and sinews.” Lloyd George presses for a small War Committee, for the Government was getting that paralysis of will where they could neither wage war nor negotiate peace. He gets Lord Beaverbrook to put him in touch with Bonar Law. Thus began the final chapter of events, now too well known to record here, which placed Lloyd George in Asquith’s place with the “ terrible responsibility of Premiership in a muddled war.” It matters little who pressed the trigger —the gun that blew Asquith out was hound to go off. . , . Lloyd George incorporates in his book a chapter on the Mesopotamia muddle. It is one of unspeakable horror and makes the blood boil. Most of the leaders, military and political, who played on the War stage are paraded for inspection by the man who knew them all so intimately. Let us listen to him about a few of them. Asquith had a judge’s mind, invaluable in peace, but not in the war deluge. Never drove or initiated, and his will became flaccid under the strain. At Cabinet meetings had a habit of turning to the mantelpiece to see whether any temporary relief from his perplexities was indicated by the position of the hands of the clock. Haldane, a doer, brave and unselfish, and the kindliest political personality L.G. ever met.

Balfour gave , a false impression of irresolution, but on fundamental issues never flinched or meandered. First of them all in personal charm. Bonar Law, a pessimist with an incomparable gift of practical criticism. “ We had nothing in common except a lowly origin,” but when ill-health broke their collaboration “I felt the separation more deeply than any during my political life.” Carson, without rival as an exposer of shams, humbug, and pretension, but no gift for administration. Kitchener, when he saw, his vision was penetrating. Cast in Natures mould for a hero, but lacking the mind for conducting a great modern war. An unsolved mystery. Robertson, commonplace and cautious to the point of timidity. ’ As Chief of Imperial General Staff, completely failed the statesmen he had derided, and never visualised the significance and responsibility of his position. Haig, a stronger man with better fighting qualities than Robertson — more will and courage. There is much war talk in the air. Publishing friends tell me there is in consequence a new for books about war and peace. It is not surprising. Apprehension is a thing very near to the human heart, and it is to the hopes and fears Of the human heart that the common people whose lot is to fight and laugh, or fight and cry, will always turn. Books like this, side by side with Lord Riddell’s ‘ War Diary,’ are revealing volumes that should be in everybody’s hands when featherbrains talk idly of “ the next war.”