My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleycinema approached with something near truth the force which inspires the other side.A notable example is the beginning of the remarkable Soviet film of Tolstoy's Warand Peace; another is Eisenstein's extraordinary picture of the Teutonic knightscoming out over the snow with the sun behind them to assail the motherland of Russia.When I saw it in later life in all the power of its order, dignity and dedicated purpose,my mind went back to that afternoon when I saw the elite German regimentsadvancing in the gathering dusk at Ypres. To understand men, and above all thehighest motives within them—whether rightly or wrongly applied, that is anotherquestion—is to lay a true and durable foundation of the great reconciliation.The aim now must be to take the noble inspirations which have been used on all sidesfor dark purposes of destruction and to unite them in the great synthesis which willmake possible the creative future. Hegel in his Philosophy of History presents abrilliant image of the vast destructive powers of nature, fire, wind, water being finallyharnessed to the purposes of man for creative achievement. So too in the Europeanfuture the fierce passions which divided and destroyed us can be overcome, and thesublime spirit of duty, sacrifice and high endeavour then imprisoned within them anddistorted to the service of war will be released in a union of all high things to makeEurope and save mankind. The noble though inarticulate instincts of youth were ofthis nature, and all the squalor of a life in politics has not yet extinguished the sparkwhich flew from the anvil of 1914.I had little time for such reflection as I made my way through the barrage towards theYpres-Menin road, which I knew from our work of reconnaissance was my shortestway home. Very soon on my journey I encountered some other extraordinary troops,the equal in their totally different fashion to the best of the Germans. It was theCanadian reserves moving up to occupy the empty section of the line. They were anastonishing spectacle to a regular soldier, for they were advancing apparently withoutany discipline at all under a fire so intense that by our standards any advance wouldhave been impossible except by the finest troops under the most rigorous discipline.They were laughing and talking and walking along in any formation, while the heavyshells we called Jack Johnsons—after the Negro boxing champion: they were 5-95and capable of wiping out a whole platoon with one explosion—were crashing amongthem in the most severe concentration of artillery fire men had yet known. Theyseemed not to care a damn, they just came on. Very soon after I passed throughthem—as we afterwards learned—they went right into the advancing Germans andthat event very rare in war occurred, a bayonet fight in which both sides stood firm.Three days later the R.F.C. were engaged in trying to delineate the still indeterminateline after the changes brought about by the failed attack. I reported that the line wentthrough a place called St. Julien where heavy fighting was taking place in what hadbeen the little town. It turned out at that time to be considerably behind the actual line.Some two hundred of the Canadians had forced their way right through, and whensurrounded, fought to the last rather than surrender. That spirit lived in both sides.It was an awkward meeting with them on the way back to report to the squadron, for itwas at least peculiar that an officer wearing the badges of the 16th Lancers and sayinghe was with the Flying Corps should be coming from the direction of the enemyadvance. However, the English voice and possibly some incipient flair for politicssoon convinced them. They told me that all troop movements through Ypres wereforbidden that night, as a concentration of fire on the town had rendered it impossible.54 of 424