That man was Sir Hedley Le Bas.  You must know his story before you can go into the part that he played in the great drama of British investment that is now to be unfolded.  A generation ago he was the lustiest lad in Jersey, his birthplace.  His feats as swimmer were the talk of a race inured to the hardships of the sea.  After seven years in the Army he came to London to make his fortune.  From an humble clerical position he rose to be head of one of the great book publishing houses in Great Britain, employing over 400 salesmen, spending over a quarter of a million dollars a year in advertising alone.

Sir Hedley is big of bone, dynamic of personality, more like the alert, wideawake American business man than almost any other individual I have ever met in England.  One day he gave the British publishing business the jolt of its long and dignified life by taking a whole page in the Daily Mail to advertise a single book.  His colleagues said it was “unprofessional,” that it violated all precedent.  Sir Hedley thought to the contrary and in vindication of his judgment the book developed into a “best seller.”  That pioneer page in the Mail was the first of many.

Prior to the outbreak of the present war, Sir Hedley had been consulted by the then Minister of War as to the most advisable means of getting recruits.

“Why don’t you advertise?” he asked.

“It’s never been done before,” replied the Minister.

“Then it’s high time to begin,” said the hard-headed Jerseyman.

His plan scarcely had time to be considered when the Great War broke.  Sir Hedley was made a member of the Parliamentary Recruiting Committee and with Kitchener helped to face England’s huge problem of raising a volunteer army.  How was it to be done?

Hardly had the new War Chief warmed the chair in his office down in Whitehall, than Le Bas came to him with this suggestion:  “The quickest way to raise the new army is to advertise for men.”

Kitchener’s huge bulk straightened:  he looked surprised:  the idea seemed unsoldierly, almost unpatriotic.  But he knew Le Bas.  After a moment’s hesitancy: 

“All right.  Go ahead.”

Under Le Bas was launched the publicity campaign which no man who visited England during its progress will ever forget.  This galvanic publisher geared all the Forces of Print up to the idea of selling Military Service.  Instead of books the Merchandise was Men.

The most lureful, colourful and effective posters that artist brain could possibly conceive flashed from every bill board in the Kingdom.  No one could escape them.

It was Le Bas who created the phrase “Your King and Country Need You” that went echoing throughout the Kingdom and drew more men to the colours perhaps than any other plea of the war.

When the Parliamentary Recruiting Committee became the Parliamentary War Savings Committee, Le Bas went with it.  Its first job was to sell the Great War Loan.  The Treasury officials wanted it done in the usual dignified British way.