PASSING NOTES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3196, 16 June 1915, Page 5

PASSING NOTES.

(From Saturday’s Daily Times.) It is idle pretending that the British casualty list does' not stagger us. Up to May 31 over 10,000 officers and nearly a quarter of a million of men is Mr Asquith’s summary of army losses alone. So far as we can sec the worst is yet to come. If tbe war is half over appearances belie it. But the worst that is yet to come is not the worst possible, —it is not the horror of a German triumph. Sooner than that the crack of doom and end all. Whether Germany is getting to the end of her resources we cannot tell; certain it is that we have not exhausted ours. But when it is proposed to get us out of the grooves of age-long use and wont we are a dull people and slow. It may take the burning of half London to rouse the British people to the height of their power. And if so, the sooner half London is -burned the better. “ He was glad that Mr Balfour would be able to take up the task of- the operations at the Dardanelles, and give him an opportunity of showing those qualities of calm courage and inflexibility which prevented Ladysmith being left to its fate and surrendered.” —Mr Churchill, addressing his Dundee constituents. These are generous words. Mr Churchill for his part brought little out of the Boer war beyond a whole skin and a' name for slimness. The army story goes that he took advantage of a plan of escape framed by two other officers, his fellow prisoners at Pretoria, got awav him self, and left his friends in the lurch. But the army story has a spice of malice.; Conan Doyle, recounting the Estcourt armoux’ed train fiasco which cost us dear in men and in any reputation we had for military horse-sense, presents Winston Churchill in another light: Haldane of the Gordons and Frankland of the Dublin Fusiliers rallied the troops, and Churchill the engine-driver. The engine was disentangled and sent on with .its cab full of wounded. Churchill, who had escaped upon it, came gallantly back to share the fate of his comrades. ... It is remarkable that of the three leaders both Haldane and Churchill succeeded in escaping from Pretoria.

It’s a far cry to Lochaw. With Germany and the mad Kaiser on our hands, not easily do we hark back to the times of poor old Kruger. If for a moment we. spare them a thought, not easily does Mr Arthur Balfour fit into the picture. Yet he belongs to it, and we may thank his “calm courage and inflexibility” that Ladysmith was not “left to its fate and surrendered.” So says Mr Churchill, praising a political rival who lias just ousted him from the Admiralty and over his head taken charge of the British fleet and naval operations at the Dardanelles. Let us agree that Mr Churchill shows a fine public spirit. There was a time, if we care to remember it, when the fate of Ladysmith hung by a hair. Buller, having failed at Colenso, heliographed to White within the town that he had better surrender. “You will burn your ciphers, destroy your guns, fire away your ammunition, and nuTke the best terms you can.” That is how one historian summarises the message. But its actual words were these: I tried Colenso yesterday and failed. The enemy is too strong for my force, except with siege operations, and these will take one full month to prepare. Can you last so long? If not, how many days can you give mo in which to take up defensive positions? I can remain here if you have alternative suggestion, but, unaided, cannot break in. Whatever happens, recollect to burn your cipher and decipher code books, and any deciphered messages. Buller had been demoralised by his Colenso casualties —7 officers and 138 men killed, 43 officers and 719 men wounded, El officers and 199 men missing and prisoners—a total of 1127. And a very moderate list it looks to-day. White, Eho was of a firm and constant mind and d not the slightest notion of surrenderor, supposed that the Boers had got hold of Buller’s cipher code and were playing him a trick.

But in England the situation was taken

seriously. And this is the “calm courage and inflexibility ’ of Mr Baltour come in. At home Bailor's despairing message created the utmost consternation. Especially was this the case in the War Omce, waicn seemed almost inclined to acquiesce in his conclusions. Eor once tue mucli-abused politicians snowed tnomselves stronger men tiian tbo solaiers. Most ot tile Ministers had lett town for (jnristmas. But Lord Lanstlowne bad stayed on at the \\ ar Cilice, and, fortunately, he had at his side in Mr Balfour a colleague on whose firm support and courageous counsel he could rely at this critical moment. A message was immediately cabled to Sir It. Buller directing him to persevere, or, it unwilling to do so, to hand over tne Natal command to one of his subordinates, and to return home. Later in the 1 day Lord Salisbury arrived, and at an informal meeting ot such Ministers as were in town it was resolved, without waiting to consult Lord Wolseley or the VV ar Office, to offer the supreme command in South Africa to Lord Roberts, with Lord Kitchener to accompany nun as Chief of the Staff. Lord Roberts was telegraphed for, was brought to a meeting of Ministers at Lansdowne House at an early hour on Sunday, the 17th, and there told the object of the summons. After a few minutes’ silent consideration he accepted. . . .

This was the turning point of the Boer war.

For us New Zealanders “the front”— the front of fronts—is the Dardanelles. Thither we ha\e sent, are still sending, the flower of our youth,—and, as the song says, ‘‘our heart’s right there.” In the whole theatre of war there is no point of greater danger,—the thick-coming casualty lists assure us of that; there is none of greater honour. Nor is there any of greater importance. I commend to all New Zealanders the words of Mr Churchill on this subject; he is saying—and it’s greatly to his credit—what has been said in this column from the first, that “through the Narrows and across the ridges of Gallipoli are some of the shortest paths to triumph and peace.” General Hamilton’s army and Admiral Do Robeok’s fleet were separated by only a few miles from a victory such as the war had not seen. When speaking of victory he was not referring to those victories which crowd the daily placards of the newspapers. He was speaking of victory in the sense of s a formidable fact shaping the destinies of the nations and shortening the duration of the war. There never was a great subsidiary operation in which there was more complete harmony or in which the strategic, political, and economic advantages were so combined or which stood in truer relation to the main decision. Mr Balfour’s appointment as First Lord of the Admiralty concerns New Zealand vitally, and I suggest that New Zealand has excellent reason to think it good. Dear Civis : —Przemysl, that detested, unpronounceable, is to the front again, this time more hateful than ever, for the place has been retaken by the Germans. When the Russians took it they promptly changed the name to Permysl, whereupon a London paper remarked, “ The relief is as great as though the Eastern campaign had afflicted us with phonetic _ influenza, and all Europe had been relieved by a long-euspended sneeze.” The Germans will now, of course, go back -to the original horror. How are we to call it ? Don’t call it anything at all, if that's how you feel about it; wait till the Russians reverse the German win, as doubtless they will. Months ago I cleared up this matter according to my lights : The gazetteers tell us to epell “Przemysl” and pronounce “Pzhemisl,” dropping the r. If irrationally w r e may / drop the r, we may also drop the s. Coll it Schemil, and you will not bo far wrong. In modification of this, here is a paragraph from the Pall Mall Gazette : The truth may as well bo told. The pronunciation of Przemysl is the simplest matter imaginable. Its citizens, one and all, deal with it in two syllables, and they ought to know. They call it Chomit'h, with the “ch” soft, and the accent, if anywhere, upon the first syllable. When one comes to think of it, there are plenty of English towns and villages whose names are cut down like this. Cirencester is “Sister,” Leicester “Lester,” Congresbury is “Coomsbry,” and so on. But we owe no courtesy to foreign place names; agreeing amongst ourselves, we may make them what we like. “I don’t know how to pronounce this name; we’ll call it Perzy for short.” That is the way to take when you read aloud the war cables.

“Auld Reekie,” writing from W "ng-

ton and jealous for the honour of Sc ish Otago, asks me to quote figures which show that the General Staff is unjust in demanding the same number of recruits from each of the four military districts. If 2000 is the total required, and a population basis is taken, the respective quotas should run thus : —Auckland 494, Wellington 634, Canterbury 498, Otago 370. Whereas the rough and ready arithmetic of the General Staff demands 500 from each, and puts Otago in the wrong fo? coming short of Wellington. These facts and figures are already known and we have assimilated any comfort they contain, fully persuaded in our minds that—as this correspondent protests—‘‘Dunedin is not a town of shirkers.” Its good name is in no danger; hence the fervent appeals addressed to me in its interest by “Auld Reekie” are a little wasted : “Your paper is read all over the dominion—Again I say Go it, brother ! —Speak your mind freely— You are not in Germany, or you would have been hanged long ago.” Very likely. Indeed quite certainly. “Give me leave to speak my mind”—as the melancholy Jacques says in the play—gets no favourable response in Germany unless you speak your mind in this fashion along with the Frankfurter Zeitung: “No self-respecting German will ever

consent to remain in any room of which on Englishman is the occupant. If the German cannot eject the Englishman, he will himself leave the room. We cannot bo expected to breathe the same polluted air as our deadliest foes, who fell upon us from the roar, and in the night. There can be no compromise on tins point. Wo have to swear a national vendetta against the English, never to rest, never to cease our preparations for another war, never to spare an effort until the last semblance of English power is destroyed, and there will be no rest or repose for any honest German until the British Empire has been swept into the oblivion of past histoi’y.”

Off with his head I So much for Buckingham ! But, again, there are the neutral nations:

“Most of them sidq in sympathy with tho English, Russians, and French; most of them entertain hostile feelings against Germany. We do noG need them. They are not necessary to our happiness, nor to our material interests. Let us ban them from our homes and our tables. Let us make them feel that we despise them. They must understand that they are condemned to be left out in the cold, just because they do not merit German approval. Germany must and will stand alone. The Gormans are the salt of the earth; they will fulfil their destiny, which is to rule tho world and to control other nations for the benefit of mankind.” Though dragged in rather (and I admit the fact) these examples are relevant to the general situation. And they are strictly typical. Leading article in a North Island upcountry newspaper (name and place censored out); — THE GALL OF COUNTRY. “ Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.” These were the words written years ago, when a contingent of Australians left to do service in the Soudan. The greatest minds had been chartered or commissioned by the ' Almighty to coin phrases which, with the mint mark of eternal truth. should pass _ current through all tho ages. The commission begot the words heading this article, which, in free translation, mean, “Sweet and seemly is it to die for our country.” Is the editor saying that this Horace Hue dates from the Soudan war? Or has he merely constructed an ingenious ambiguity? I give him the benefit of the doubt, though the correspondent who passes on the clipping to me evidently believes the worst. True it is that some gems of modern literature were plagiarised in advance, —two thousands years ago; hence the imprecation: Perish the blighters who stole my good things before I thought of them myself!—or (since Latin is the vogue let us be in it!) —Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerunt! But as this country editor has neatly concealed his thought the reference may not apply. Case dismissed: —Not guilty, and don’t do it again. Civrs.