The Seed of Empire by Fred M. White

The philosophy of Ginger is, generally speaking, the philosophy of the British Army, and it is this spirit that helped largely to break down the conspiracy which has been preparing on the other side of the Rhine for the last forty years. Our army in Flanders may not be entirely composed of Gingers; it may largely lack the saving sense of humour, but the dogged spirit and indomitable will are there, and will be until the great peace is signed in Berlin.

The British public has never realised, and probably never will realise, the deadly peril of the first few weeks of the campaign in the west. We were a nation caught absolutely unprepared, and much the same thing can be said with regard to the French--an amazing thing concerning the warnings they have had--but there were a few people in Europe last August who fully appreciated the situation. In the early days at Liege it began to appear as if the gallant little Belgians would be able to hold up the German hosts long enough to give England and France an opportunity of saving the situation. The Germans perished by the thousand, but they were nothing daunted and once Liege was passed they overran Belgium like a plague of locusts. General French's army of less than a hundred thousand men was forced back from Mons on August 23, and for a few days the retreat threatened to degenerate into a disorderly rout. From some cause which will probably never become known, the French supports and reinforcements failed to materialise, and the struggle degenerated into a soldiers' battle the like of which has never been seen since the historic field of Inkermann. A fortnight later, on September 6, the battered and bruised British army halted to the east of Paris, prepared to take part in the siege of the French capital. Just for a moment it looked as if the fall of Paris was certain. The Germans, under von Kluck, were actually in sight of the forts, and they boasted that within a week they would be inside.