A GLIMPSE OF SIR DOUGLAS HAIG.

Taihape Daily Times, 29 November 1917, Page 3

A GLIMPSE OF SIR DOUGLAS HAIG.

BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE Gr-H.Q. r I had, of course, heard a great deal of Sir Douglas Haig before I saw him (writes I. F. Marerosson in the Philadelphia Ledger, of a glimpse he was privileged to have behind the scenes at British Headquarters). The world had come to know him as 'a man of action and achievement. His name ran like a strain up and down the farflung fighting line. “Buggy” and “D.H.” is the way the Tommies refer to him in affectionate intimacy. Yet not one out of ten soldiers in the army has ever seen him. To them he is a sort of great directing mystery and force. For days and nights I had been with his fighting legions. The whole world seemed an immense battlefield shaken by a tremendous din. Then, on a brilliant sunlit day, I left behind the tumult and the crash behind me and made my way to a very modest chateau that stood off the beaten road almost hidden by trees. It had an atmosphere of brooding peace rather than any suggestion of being the phase of the mightiest war the world has ever seen. Behind me on the dusty roads I had left the marching troops, the endless munition trains, the trailing squadrons of motor-trucks and the rattling processions of artillery, It seemed all far away.

I entered what seemed to be the usual charming interior of a conventional French county house. But there was this difference. There was an almost incessant rattle of a typewriter, and, down the hall, a telephone bell jangled constantly. By the open door you saw officers at work. Still there was nothing to indicate strikingly that this secluded building was the headquarters of a conductor of war, who at that very moment was shifting the a rooster crowed, a dog barked; you pawns of life and death outside, hoard the familiar sounds of the country. It was one of the many constrasts of this great conflict that is one dramatic succession of constrasts.

This was general headquarters or ‘‘Gt.H.Q.” as it is morcy known. The moment you entered the door you felt that you were establishing a contact with something significant. It was not the desk, the maps, the telephones, the typewriters, or the movement of soldiers to and fro. It was the personality of the Inan who dominated the establishment and, instinctively, you acknowledged this unseen authority. I was talking with one of the young staff officers in an anteroom when the buzzer on his desk barked. It was the signal for my entry to the office of the commander-in-ehief.

In a moment I found myself facing one of the handsomest men, I have ever seen. He was tall, lithe, wellknit. Without the slightest clue to his vocation, you would have unconsciously "sized him up as a soldier. Dignity, distinction, and yet a gracious and charming reserve mingled in his bearing. His hair and moustache are fair. His clear, steel-blue eyes search you. His chest is broad and deep,* yet scarcely broad enough for the rows of service and order ribbons that plant a mass of colour against the background of khaki. He is the personification of grace and ease. His cavalry training is instantly evident. It shows in the long, shapely outlines of his legs and the rounded calves encased in perfectly polished boots. When he walks it is with the rangy, swingy, stride of the man who rides much. Such is Sir Douglas Haig as he is.. You know that ho is a real person the minute you enter his presence.