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Henry Wilson was clearly a rising star and returned from South Africa with a greatly enhanced reputation. Enjoying the patronage of Lord Roberts, he was stimulatingly ensconced in the War Office, right at the centre of things. He spent his first nine months working as Ian Hamilton's assistant on honours and rewards for service in South Africa, work which included preparing individual citations where soldiers were ‘mentioned in despatches’ and drawing up lengthy lists of medal-winners. It was a potential poisoned chalice. In a profession (and, indeed, society) so minutely hierarchical, army careers could be made or broken by the gaining — or not — of medals and distinctions. This chapter discusses Wilson's responsibilities in the War Office of Ireland, his frustration with the office's inefficiencies, and his role in the campaign for army reform in the country.

In 1905, the idea of nervous degeneration was inseparable from the more open discussion of moral degradation and physical debility. For a country beleaguered by worldwide competitors, nerves were more than ever necessary to sustain the British people in their struggle to maintain international hegemony. In the clamor for national efficiency, conditions of body were inseparably intertwined with states of mind. Over and over again, all manner of alarmists asked whether the British people had, not merely the stamina, but the will to triumph over their rivals. Never had the connotations of power, force, and energy associated with the nerves assumed greater significance in the public consciousness. Curiously enough, degeneration theory prolonged the life of the mid-Victorian certainty that private exertions were the key to public progress.

This chapter explores in detail John Toland's intellectual transactions with Lord Robert Molesworth, one of the commonwealth politicians in his circle, in order to allow a more reflective appreciation of the function of his learning and ideas. The first result of Toland's relationship with Molesworth was the analysis of the Druidical past as a Complete History of Priestcraft. The chapter also discusses Toland's idea, contained in his Clidophorus, that the tyranny of priestcraft meant that the truth could rarely be spoken in public.

The Six-Day War cannot be seen as a shining example of British military genius. In fact, it was a “text-book case of how not to conduct a campaign”. The problems of poor military intelligence are covered. It also describes the logistical failures in supplies and transport. It then evaluates the problems of command and the inadequate reports. Capt. E.L.C. Berger's actions in the Six-Day War show his understanding of what a standard British colonial war should consist of: it was, in every respect, a copy-book example of a small-scale British military operation. At the same time, Military Headquarters in Hong Kong do not seem to have taken any of these late nineteenth century writers' advice to heart at all. Every error that could be committed was committed: all of Reginald Clare Hart's and Charles Callwell's maxims failed to be observed. It must be a matter of conjecture as to what Lord Roberts would have done with William Gascoigne if this campaign had come under his command, and if the facts of how it was managed had been drawn to his attention.

This chapter discusses the four phases of the South African War of 1899–1902 in the Free State. The first two phases were characterized by conventional battles, with the Boers asserting themselves before the British, with the command passing to Lord Roberts, increasingly prevailed. The third period, following on the occupation of Bloemfontein, was characterized by irregular engagements and may, in turn, be subdivided into a period when the Boers still had the capacity to mount conventional operations and one when they were reduced to insurgency. From the Boers’ point of view, the war was one of increasing hopelessness. This chapter examines the British occupation of the Winburg district, the Boers’ withdrawal southward into the Brandwater Basin, and the surrender of the bulk of the Boer army in the field.

This chapter examines the British proclamation, issued by Lord Roberts two days after the occupation of Bloemfontein in February 1900, which promised that those who “desist from any further hostility towards Her majesty’s Government … and who are found staying in their homes and quietly pursuing their ordinary occupations, will not be made to suffer in their persons or property on account of their having taken up arms in obedience to the order of their Government.” The chapter considers how the Boers’ disillusionment with the war made the proclamation extremely appealing to them and argues that the prospect of returning to a quiet life untouched by the war proved illusory because of Britain’s failure to keep the promise of protection made to those who had laid down their arms. Instead, surrendered burghers endured British harassment as a result of looting, requisitioning, the random operation of martial law, and the inability to differentiate between peaceable citizens and oath-breaking belligerents. This in addition to the problems presented by the return of commandos.