First footing 1915 would be no different to any other year. Even a mid-August move to Bedford in deepest Englandshire, failed to alert the Seaforths to the possibility that this could be a war of no short duration, a war in which many, many men would lose their lives. Naive expectations were not confined to the Far North of Scotland. In Lorraine, the French had lurched straight into an ill-conceived attack on the German lines. Relying on an abstract notion called 'elan', soldiers decked out in fancy dress uniforms of red and blue coats, and baggy white pantaloons dashed headlong at fortified machine gun nests.
Human courage is a static quality.
Weaponry is always in a state of dynamic advance. By the end of August the French had lost 300,000 of its best troops. Needless to say, their Lorraine offensive was a total failure. Meantime, in Russia, that vast and awesome land where men were looked upon as a breed of domestic animal, huge armies wandered aimlessly into East Prussia. Predictable results attended this lack of discretion.