To a certain extent, one is not prepared to say how far, the military and social crises are interdependent.  And undoubtedly the military problem rests on the suppression of the submarine.  If Germany continues to destroy shipping on the seas, if we are not able to supply our new armies and the Allied nations with food and other things, the increasing social ferment will paralyze the military operations of the Entente.  The result of a German victory under such circumstances is impossible to predict; but the chances are certainly not worth running.  In a, sense, therefore, in a great sense, the situation is “up” to us in more ways than one, not only to supply wise democratic leadership but to contribute material aid and brains in suppressing the submarine, and to build ships enough to keep Britain, France, and Italy from starving.  We are looked upon by all the Allies, and I believe justly, as being a disinterested nation, free from the age-long jealousies of Europe.  And we can do much in bringing together and making more purposeful the various elements represented by the nations to whose aid we have come.

I had not intended in these early papers to comment, but to confine myself to such of my experiences abroad as might prove interesting and somewhat illuminating.  So much I cannot refrain from saying.

It is a pleasure to praise where praise is due, and too much cannot be said of the personnel of our naval service—­something of which I can speak from intimate personal experience.  In these days, in that part of London near the Admiralty, you may chance to run across a tall, erect, and broad-shouldered man in blue uniform with three stars on his collar, striding rapidly along the sidewalk, and sometimes, in his haste, cutting across a street.  People smile at him—­costermongers, clerks, and shoppers—­and whisper among themselves, “There goes the American admiral!” and he invariably smiles back at them, especially at the children.  He is an admiral, every inch a seaman, commanding a devoted loyalty from his staff and from the young men who are scouring the seas with our destroyers.  In France as well as in England the name Sims is a household word, and if he chose he might be feted every day of the week.  He does not choose.  He spends long hours instead in the quarters devoted to his administration in Grosvenor Gardens, or in travelling in France and Ireland supervising the growing forces under his command.

It may not be out of place to relate a characteristic story of Admiral Sims, whose career in our service, whose notable contributions to naval gunnery are too well known to need repetition.  Several years ago, on a memorable trip to England, he was designated by the admiral of the fleet to be present at a banquet given our sailors in the Guildhall.  Of course the lord mayor called upon him for a speech, but Commander Sims insisted that a bluejacket should make the address.  “What, a bluejacket!” exclaimed the lord