HISTORY AND ESPRIT DE CORPS.

‘It is a good thing, gentlemen, to cull the best from the past, and never to ignore it,’ said Captain Cheerall at another lecture. ‘If our fathers frequently blundered through, they did so heroically. No army is blessed with such high traditions, such records of chivalry and glory, as ours; yet, like all other armies, it has frequently failed. We do not claim to have been invincible. We have no desire to get out on the house-tops to boost our army. But we have a right to know and be proud of the battle honours on our flags.

‘This, you may think, is a new line of thought for me, the arch-priest of the present and the future. Well, my reason for reminding you is this: You are of the new faith, the new school, the New Army. Your success has been wonderful, and in another lecture I have paid tribute to your genius, courage, and patriotism. Now I want to remind you, not of past follies, but of past glories. Military history glows with our splendour. The small-minded person is very apt to remind us of our failures in America during the American War of Independence, our awful blunders in the Crimea, our shameful disorganisation in the early part of the South African War. Such accusations are true. But if you study these failures, get to know why we failed and where we might have scored, and thus increase your professional knowledge. Never be afraid to admit our errors, but take good care never to repeat them. This is a maxim you must ever bear in mind. Even in this war—at Loos, Neuve Chapelle, Cambrai, and Gaza—there are instances where the human machine went wrong, instances which afford you food for serious thought and reflection.

‘But what I really want to concentrate on to-day is the spirit of the British Army—that unconquerable soul which lightens a disaster, sustains us in reverse, and proclaims to all the world that we Britishers never know when we are beaten. That, gentlemen, is the most priceless asset of our army. To understand this spirit you must look at our history. You must dip into the annals of India, Egypt, Africa, the story of the Peninsular War, or of Waterloo. In these tomes are the deeds of your fathers. Our army never fights better than when it struggles for a moral cause. We conquered Napoleon in the flower of his strength, and in our hour of national weakness, because truth, honour, and decency were on our side.

‘I do not say we have always been crusaders. There are wars in which we have played an Imperial game. Yet, after deep reflection, I am convinced some Power or Powers must be predominant in this world, and this leads me to believe that a Power which is based on liberty, equality, and fraternity is the Power entitled to impress its own culture on the world. And we have always been civilising, always pioneering, always trying to leave the world a little cleaner, a little better, than we found it. This work has been supported and made possible by the splendour of British arms.

‘What you must take from the past is the spirit of your fathers—the simple faith, the sense of duty, the code of honour, and the love of country which have been shown by the best of our men in all our wars. And I do believe no man is cultured or efficient unless he has a knowledge of history. This gives you the reason why. It prevents a gross materialism from entering your soul. It takes self above the battle, and enables you to realise that beyond the trials, the sorrows, and the horrors of war there is a god-like spirit which is clean, noble, and must, therefore, be triumphant. I am not sanctifying war, for I loathe it; but I am deifying the moral force which is behind us, for example, in this war. There never was a cleaner crusade.

‘Self-depreciation is characteristic of our race. We laugh at ourselves, we call our brothers fools, and pillory our statesmen and our thinkers. We are so tolerant, and possess such a sense of humour, that no one gets much annoyed. This really is evidence of a certain greatness. It means we are not sensitive, are without nerves, and are always willing to hear the latest buffoon. Now, gentlemen, these are not bad qualities. But unfortunately they are qualities which the German exploits, with the result that he has made our name stink in the nostrils of neutrals. We have been so indifferent, so careless, that Hun libels have taken root, and now a Britisher is regarded by many neutrals as the swashbuckler of the world. And this vile creed has been imported even into our own country, perhaps into our army, especially among later elements who do not understand why they were conscripted. It is a dangerous growth, and must eventually become a poisonous weed. You must root it out. Regimental history will help you to do so.

‘Whatever regiment you go to, you must first read its records, learn its battle honours, get to know its heroes, study all its personal traditions, and generally imbibe that something which has made it wonderful. There you are on sure ground. You can fascinate your men with its stories of valour. You can thrill them with its pride. You can cheer them with its humour. And you can make them love you by displaying that intense devotion to all things pertaining to your regiment. You will not do this in a day. But you can do it in a few months. And yours shall be the glory.

‘Some one has said that the path of duty is where honour lies. Our military histories will corroborate that. White in Ladysmith, Gordon in KhartÛm, and Townshend in Kut are good examples of patient courage and unselfish devotion. The death of Captain Oates of the Dragoon Guards is a fine story, if not actually military. This British officer and gentleman, when stricken with disease, walked out into the Antarctic snow to die, rather than burden his companions and bring them to death and disaster. There are thousands of anecdotes of this order. When you read them your spine will thrill at the valour of your fathers.

‘And I should like you to study very closely the spirit of friendship between the British officer and the private soldier. This is a wonderful story. It shows we have discipline, and yet we have none. In other words, it illustrates that we have got things done because the men liked their officers, and not because they “had to.” You have to discover that secret. It is easy to find. Frankness, courtesy, love, and courage are the basic elements of the plan. The gentle patience, the benevolent rule, and the paternal anxiety of our fathers were wonderful things. They made the British Tommy the most faithful, the most willing, the finest soldier in the world. He has no equal. He will never let you down. But you cannot get the best out of him unless you model your personal conduct on the lives of Kitchener, Roberts, Maude, or Wauchope. These four men are pictures of simple British gentlemen, with Christian instincts, a plain sense of duty, an unalterable devotion to their country, and a magnificent belief in their fellow-men.

‘Again, I do want you to feel that a British officer is no vain person, put up for the admiration or the subjugation of the mob. Do not be a sabre-rattler. Let your demeanour to the civilian crowd be one of chivalry. If we are democratic in our politics, all of us, even the private soldiers, are aristocrats in temperament. We loathe a bounder; we hate a prig, scorn a sneak, and curse a knowing fool. Carry the white flower of a blameless life, and champion all things which make for the propagation of truth, civilisation, and honour. You may even take from the German his virtues, but you must leave him his vices. The British officer is watched by millions of neutrals, and it is important that his high calling should earn the approbation of their historians. Better to die for our chivalry than succumb to the bestial creed and the foul dishonour of the Huns.

‘History, I say, will give you much. It will prove that there is a wonderful fire and force in our race. Our island story is very well summed up by Kipling when he says:

What should they know of England
Who only England know?

‘When you have travelled the Seven Seas; when you have walked in the footsteps of frontiersmen, seen the Valhalla of heroes and the sleeping-place of martyrs, watched tribes and nations of all creeds and colours saluting the British officer and the British flag, it is then you feel:

There is a voice divine,
And a mission that is high.

‘Gentlemen, here is the proof of our liberty and wisdom. At Gallipoli are the graves of free Colonists with no ties to this country except the ties of blood. Their country is a labour country. Imperialism is banned. It is sometimes termed a democracy gone mad. Yet when Germany threw down the gauntlet these freemen came forth to help the Old Land. They died like Trojans. They died for LOVE. They died that we might live. And their brothers to-day are dying in France. Side by side are those wonderful Canadians, glorious Newfoundlanders, gallant South Africans, brave Indians—indeed, all nations under the British flag. They have not rendered lip-service. They have given the flower of their land that this Old Country, the mother of Democracy, the breeder of nations, and fount of tolerance, shall keep her lamps burning brightly and repel the hordes who would destroy the Crucifix and deify the sword. You can understand this devotion only by a study of the past.

‘When you have mastered military history, you will quickly grasp the value of esprit de corps. You will know why the Guards would scorn to be called Highlanders; why the Highlanders would shoot you if you put them into the Guards; why the K.R.R.’s want to beat the Rifle Brigade, and why the Rifle Brigade believe they are better than the K.R.R.’s; why Dragoons think themselves superior to Hussars, and why Hussars would sicken if you named them Dragoons; why the R.H.A. believe that the R.F.A. are not fit to lick their boots, and vice versÂ. Unimportant as these things may seem to the uninitiated, they are really the basis of good work and true fellowship. This spirit is the same as the spirit of the public schools. You will not find this spirit in Germany. Force is the gospel of Germany, even in school and in sport. Force never made a gentleman or a great nation. Let me tell you a story. A broad-minded German was travelling past the playing-fields of Eton before the war. He saw the boys playing Rugger, Soccer, &c., and immediately ordered his car to stop. He sat for quite a long time looking at the clean, bonny British boys playing their games. Then he jumped up, took off his hat, and shouted, “Ah, mine friends, I would lub to be one Breetish boy!”

‘That is a very great tribute from an enemy. To you we hand the guardianship of that spirit. You must believe that to “play up, and play the game,” is the noblest thing in life. You must live not for self, but for country. Your wealth, your gifts, your pleasures, even your loved ones, must be surrendered at the call of duty. Duty is the keystone of patriotism. And patriotism has made us what we are. The defects of this system are outweighed by its virtues. “The word of an Englishman” is all they ask of a Britisher in the Argentine. But from a Hun they demand an agreement, stamped, sealed, dated, and witnessed. What finer tribute can you have to the spirit of our race?

‘An army, gentlemen, without a soul is a vile and cruel instrument. It will commit excesses. It will rape, plunder, and demoralise. It will stink in history, like the armies of Attila, Cortes, and the Kaiser. We must avoid that. We cannot do so unless you leave this school with a full knowledge of history, an appreciation of esprit de corps, a love of the truth, and an adherence to the principles of justice. You must all be Maudes and not Bernhardis; quit ye like men; do harm to no child, no woman; so conduct yourselves that when you leave France or Belgium the populace will line the route, strewing your path with roses, and shedding tears for the dead who are gone and the living heroes who are returning home.

‘It may be, of course, that many of you will not return, that you may have to suffer torture at the hands of your enemy. Let death have no terrors, for you shall pass to the Valhalla of heroes. Your name shall be inscribed in the page of glory, and your memory shall shine like the sun.

‘Gentlemen, words fail me. Emotion is knocking at my heart. But I feel that I have shown you the soul of the British Army. Guard it! Cherish it! Fight for it! And when this bloody war is over, the world will take you into its arms, and God will proclaim, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”’

A strange silence fell over the room as the lecturer finished. The spell had not yet passed. Men had been transported from the sordid to the higher things. But when the captain lifted his stick and gloves to go, we burst into a wild hurrah.

That night Tosher, whom we dubbed ‘the Materialist,’ slipped out of the hut about nine-thirty. He crossed the dark parade-ground, and made for the officers’ quarters. On arriving at Captain Cheerall’s domicile, he knocked at the door.

‘Come in.’

‘Say, cap., I’d like to swot up some of that history.’

‘I see! What can I do for you?’

‘Well, I guess you’d better lend me a book to get on with.’

‘Certainly. Here you are. Anything to oblige a good Canadian.’

‘Thanks, cap. And, I say’——

‘What?’

‘You were real good on that stunt to-day. Good-night, sir.’

‘Good-night, Johnson.’

When Tosher got to the hut, he looked at the book. It was entitled Deeds that Won the Empire.