or easily.

The men were called round without any formality, and Sir John French
began immediately to address them. It was not the first time that the
Subaltern had heard him speak. As Chief of the Imperial General Staff,
he used to inspect and address the Cadets of the Royal Military College,
Sandhurst, at the end of each term. And he did it well. The Subaltern
remembered the sight of the long parade--"three sides of a square" the
formation was called--and the Generals with the skirts of their "frock"
coats and the feathers in their hats blowing in the wind. But in spite
of the absence of red coats, and the stiffness of parade, this was a
more moving harangue than any he had heard on the parade ground at
Sandhurst.

The Field-Marshal said that the greatest battle that had ever been
fought was just over. It had rolled with the fury of a cyclone from
Belfort to Mons. Nearly two million men had been engaged, and the
British Army had emerged from the contest covered with glory, having for
three days maintained an unbroken front in the face of an overwhelming
superiority in numbers. Never had he been more proud to be a British
soldier than he was that day. The Regiment had added yet another branch
to its laurel wreath. It had more than sustained its ancient traditions
for endurance and courage. He was proud of it.

The enemy had been nearly five to one, and yet had been unable to
inflict defeat upon them. If they had been "broken," the whole of the
French left would have assuredly perished. Thanks to their endurance and
obedience in the face of great provocation and privation, the Allied
armies were now free from the dangers that had threatened them. No one
knew better than he did that they would continue to be as brave, as