The Wimsey Papers by Dorothy Sayers

through.

Wish I had half the energy of old Admiral Barnacle. Somebody brought him in here yesterday, and he pooped off a broadside of I-told-you-so's that carried away all our defences and even put Wetheridge's guns out of action. (Wetheridge is getting very cranky - temper worse and worse - sits growling in the corner with a neutral zone all round him, and nobody but the new members ever ventures within range. Worst of it is, he completely monopolises one fireplace and I'm afraid he'll end by driving all the members out of the Club.) The Admiral had always said the next war would be fought at sea (and by gad! Sir, wasn't he right?) and the only way to keep the pace in Europe was to have the British Navy so big that nobody would dare challenge it, and so keep the whole adjectival lot quiet. He got so excited that Culyer and a couple of other fellows had to sacrifice themselves, and give him a game of bridge, and we heard him roaring away in the little card-room, and holding a court-martial - court-naval, rather - on every hand, till his friends convoyed him away to bed. Time too; he must be well over eighty.

But I'm beginning to think seriously, Peter, that there's something in what he says. So far, all the advantage in this war has been with the defence, and I think we might argue that if every country would provide itself with a Maginot Line so strong that an attack isn't worth the candle, we might reduce land warfare to a sort of perpetual check and fight everything out by air and sea. That would mean much less expenditure in lives, because there's a limit to the number of mean you can put in a ship or an aeroplane. Of course, it would mean a really efficient scheme of air-defence for every town, but that's not impossible either. They say the Helsinki shelters were solidly out in hand twelve years ago, and that's why the Russian raids haven't produced anything like the casualties you might expect. You may think this is a queer line for an old army man to take, but, speaking as a professional soldier, I don't like this business of whole nations in arms, and the wiping out of millions of decent youngsters. I say, strengthen your defences and don't waste men, and for us that does mean a strong Navy and Air arm, and personally I'm all for it. I never want to see anything like the 1914-1918 casualty lists again, and if you ask me the people who keep bawling to the Army to get a move on are a bunch of bloody-minded murderers. Of course, if the Boche gets to work on Holland, or Belgium, or Luxemburg, we may look for trouble.

Talking of the Navy, I thought that was a dashed handsome touch in Daladier's speech the other day. Saying that "the English, who were connoisseurs," had praised the work of the French Navy, and that he looked upon it as a good compliment. Upon my word, I called that a confoundedly graceful way of putting it. None of our newspapers seemed to appreciate it half enough. Very pretty turn, those Frenchmen have, in public speeches. Wish our lot would follow their example. We mean well, but we're so damned clumsy. Anyhow, there's my little tribute, for what it's worth, and I wish somebody could tell Daladier that one old fellow, at any rate, had the grace to feel gratified.

You ought to have heard the row there was this week when Winston hopped in ahead of the newspapers and told the country about the Canadians being landed here. I wonder the whole Censor's office didn't go up in smoke. Naughty of Winston, of course, but mind you, the public loved it. It pleased them no end to hear a tit-bit of piping-hot news direct from the First Lord of the Admiralty. If you ask me, the powers that be out to arrange to give us that kind of thing more often. I don't mean they ought to take the papers by surprise - that's not fair, and besides, it takes the gilt off the gingerbread when you've been given your little treate one day, and the next have to read a lot of cursing and blinding about muddles in Ministries. It shakes