From a prolonged and varied experience under shell-fire, machine-gun, rifle, trench-mortar fire, etc., and from an intimate and close association with men of all kinds in times of deadly peril, it seems evident to me that personal courage is very largely a matter of physical condition and general health, and that, provided a man be healthy and his nerves in good condition, it is natural for him to be brave.

In the case of a man of liberal education, used to the refinements of life, imagination is an important factor of personal bravery, and I think it would not be incorrect to say that sixty per cent of his courage is dependent upon the possession of good health, and the remaining forty per cent representing strong control of will and nerves.

He who is less educated, less sensitive, or whose nerves are less highly strung, relies to a greater extent on his physical condition, and the element of imagination is naturally less, representing, one might say, for purposes of comparison, eighty per cent physical condition and twenty per cent mental. The imagination of such a one, as a rule, does not carry him to the same lengths as does that of an educated man, and his envisage, as it might be termed, is only concerned with the actual events happening in the immediate vicinity, while his mind quite philosophically reviews, or more often fails to consider, the possible dangers ahead of him. The mind of the man of intelligence is so much more active, sees so much further, and his observation and experience so plainly tell him certain possible and eventual consequences, that it is only by the exercise of very strong will-power that he succeeds in subduing the apprehensions into which his superior mentality carries him and in rising above them.

As a matter of actual fact, every one, educated and uneducated alike in different degree, experiences some distressing reflections on the eve of an attack, especially of an infantry attack. For the ten or fifteen minutes immediately preceding the "zero" hour, as it is called, or the second in which the men go "over the top" they usually have some leisure moments in which they are bound to reflect upon a possibly disastrous outcome. This period is particularly trying, but the average man is much more afraid of being thought afraid by his comrades than he is of the danger itself, and this feeling is necessarily greater in the minds of the more imaginative. Once he is started in the actual forward movement and has work to do, his mind is occupied nearly always to the complete exclusion of everything but the matter in hand; the excitement drives the emotion of natural fear from his mind; only in the lulls in the action is he conscious of any unpleasant moments, and it is just for such moments as these that our strenuous military training is largely intended. Weak men fail under the strain, and disasters ensue. But the long hours of drill and training have so instilled habits of self-control and obedience that this, combined with the inherent strong characters of men, the necessities of the moment, and their desire and determination to do their best, enable them to rise to heights never experienced at times less critical.

The above remarks refer to the sensations of the soldier about to enter upon an attack; every-day trench warfare is rather different. During quiet intervals, when the enemy are not raining missiles in his immediate vicinity, only his subconscious mind asserts itself, and the nervous strain, although existent, does not usually evidence itself in any outward form. However, when troops are being shelled badly, or, I should say, being "strafed," a worried and reflective look can be seen in the eyes of most men, which is usually accompanied by perspiration as a physical sign. Trench warfare has been very accurately defined as "months of intense boredom punctuated by moments of intense funk." This expression seems to cover the experience fairly well.

As a general thing, it is true that occupation of some kind which involves mental effort is nearly always effective in banishing thoughts of fear, and in times of extreme danger the most courageous of acts are performed when one is so absorbed in the endeavor to accomplish the purpose desired that the slightest thought is not given to the possibility of death, wounds, or sacrifice; and it is due to this absolute self-effacement that the most heroic deeds are done.

The unknown always presents the most fearsome aspect. A known and experienced danger invariably results in a much-increased confidence in one's will and powers of self-control.

The attitude of men in trench warfare is an illustration. For the first week or two they are "jumpy" and take very good care not to expose themselves needlessly; their imagination runs away with them to some extent, and they conjure up in their minds visions of themselves wounded, maimed, or even blown to pieces. Especially do these mind-pictures rise when they are alone in dangerous places. I remember that soon after I first went into the trenches, and, walking by myself at night (when it seems somehow that all dangers are accentuated) over a stretch of flat ground where no cover or shelter existed, and where, nightly, the enemy would pour a hail of machine-gun bullets over us. I remember well the very unpleasant sensations which raced through my mind, and of its dwelling particularly on the chance of my being hit and of being left badly wounded there on the ground for hours unnoticed, or until daylight came. I do not doubt but that my mind, like others, was naturally influenced by some of the terrible things we had seen. One of the first sights that I happened upon in the very place to which I have just referred was a poor chap, a fellow engineer officer, who had been caught by a machine-gun fire, and who was lying dead in the path. How long he had been lying there I do not know.

Men are not usually alone in the front-line trenches, day or night, but occasionally this happens. I can recall very distinctly, in going my rounds visiting the different mine-shafts alone at night, of wondering, as I walked from fire-bay to fire-bay, separated by earth traverses or blocks, as to whether, as I cautiously made my way around, I would suddenly stumble on some Boche stealthily prowling there in the bay ahead or whether one would catch me from behind in the dark as I passed along. I was ready for them at any time, always carrying a couple of small bombs in my blouse pocket, but it's an eerie feeling that one has when patrolling sectors which are very close and often raided by the enemy at night. After many such experiences as these, men begin to form those habits of self-control which must characterize a good soldier.

But "revenons À nos moutons," as our French comrades say. After the first two or three weeks the average man acquires more confidence, and at this time the officers of his unit have to be especially careful in warning him against needless exposure. Then it is that he gets reckless, looks over the parapet every now and then, and in other ways shows an overconfidence which always results in an increase in the casualty lists.

A few months pass—a short time in an ordinary life, but a time so crowded with different sensations to the man in the trenches that it seems an eternity—he develops into a seasoned and confident soldier, and, while showing at all necessary times the strength and courage of the real fighting man in not fearing to make or face any attack, he meanwhile sensibly takes advantage of all possible cover available in the hope that he may not become a casualty before he has been of some real service to his country.

It is, of course, my conviction that, man for man, we are more than a match for our enemy; and when hand-to-hand fighting occurs, we can always rely on our fellows smashing the Hun. It is inspiring to me to see the confidence with which our new soldiers take their training: at first diffident, and later growing in confidence and assurance as they realize their ability to take care of themselves and punish the enemy. It has been my privilege to lecture to engineer officers and men, and I have felt to a marked degree the enthusiasm and conviction of superiority which is in the soul of every fighting man at our big camps.

What real man could fail to feel the grip of this war? Who would hesitate to show in a practical way the thoughts and ideals for which America stands? For is not every one called upon to do his share for humanity and freedom?