Two men in England--Lloyd George and Lord Northcliffe--understood this
situation. Fortunately they are both men of courageous mould and
unwavering purpose. One day Northcliffe sent the military expert of the
_Times_ (which he owns) to France to investigate conditions. He found
that the greatest need of the English Army was for high-explosives. They
were as necessary as bread. Into less than a quarter of a column he
compressed this news. Instead of submitting it to the Censor who would
have denied it publication, Northcliffe published the despatch and with
it the revelation of Kitchener's long and serious omission. He not only
risked suspension and possible suppression of his newspapers, but also
hazarded his life because a great wave of indignation arose over what
seemed to be an unwarranted attack upon an idol of the people. But it
was the truth nevertheless.
At a time when England was supposed to be sensation-proof this
revelation fell like a forty-two centimetre shell. It was an amazing
and dramatic demonstration of the power of the press and it created a
sensation.
Shell shortage at the front had full mate in a varied deficiency at
home. Ammunition contracts had been let to private firms at excessive
prices: labour was restricting output and breaking into periodic
dissension: drink was deadening energy: in short, all the forces that
should have worked together for the Imperial good were pulling apart.
Pages:
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168