on our British Front. He's too logical to be sorry for his enemy.
His attitude is too sternly impersonal for him to be moved by any
emotions, whether of detestation or charity, as regards the Hun. All
he knows is that a Frankenstein machinery has been set in motion for
the destruction of the world; to counteract it he is creating another
piece of machinery. He has set about his job in just the same spirit
that he set about overcoming the difficulties of the Panama Canal.
He has been used to overcoming the obstinacies of Nature; the human
obstinacies of his new task intrigue him. I believe that, just as
in peace times big business was his romance and the wealth which
he gained from it was often incidental, so in France the job
as a job impels him, quite apart from its heroic object. After
all, smashing the Pan-Germanic Combine is only another form of
trust-busting--trust-busting with aeroplanes and guns instead of with
law and ledgers.

There is something almost terrifying to me about this quiet
collectedness--this Pierpont Morgan touch of sphinxlike aloofness
from either malice or mercy. Just as America once said, "Business
is business" and formed her world-combines, collaring monopolies and
allowing the individual to survive only by virtue of belonging to
the fittest, so now she is saying, "War is war"--something to be
accomplished with as little regard to landscapes as blasting a
railroad across a continent.

For the first time in the history of this war Germany is "up against"
a nation which is going to fight her in her own spirit, borrowing
her own methods. This statement needs explaining; its truth was first
brought to my attention at American General Headquarters. The French
attitude towards the war is utterly personal; it is bayonet to