No such man appeared on the western front until Foch obtained the supreme command. On the British front there was no general with the gift of speech⁠—a gift too much despised by our British men of action⁠—or with a character and prestige which could raise him to the highest rank in popular imagination. During the retreat from Mona, Sir John French had a touch of that personal power⁠—his presence meant something to the men because of his reputation in South Africa; but afterward, when trench warfare began, and the daily routine of slaughter under German gunfire, when our artillery was weak, and when our infantry was ordered to attack fixed positions of terrible strength without adequate support, and not a dog’s chance of luck against such odds, the prestige of the Commander-in-Chief faded from men’s minds and he lost place in their admiration. It was washed out in blood and mud.