FEAR IN BATTLE

Greymouth Evening Star, 1 February 1916, Page 8

FEAR IN BATTLE

THE WAY IT EFFECTS MEN.

THOUGHTS IN A CHARGE.

THE EXCITEMENTS OF A FIGHT.

Doctors and padres have told me that they have done many deeds, frightened out of their lives, when they would have felt much safer and more comfortable in their dressing stations —the one or both are spurred by the thought that I have read expressed as "simple duty which na.th no place for fear," writes the special reporter of the Melbourne Age in Egypt in the course of an article on ''Fear in the Firing-line." Men with the most vivid imaginations suffer most from the effects of fear b) r reason that they probably see more possibilities in the unknown before them. Indifference which one often sees to shot and shell, I cannot help but think is assumed—rightly so —but the very effort of making a cloak to hide fear does not eliminate it from men's nature in battle. I have talked with many men who have won distinction, not only in this war but in previous actions, for heroic deeds, who admit their fear, and on whose faces I have seen the signs of fear, and I think in almost every instance they told me they wore very "funk" at the start, but got carried away by the excitement of the battle, and fear never entered their heads until it was all over. Most probably they are wounded, and, as patients, struggle with the fear of death. Fear, then, is best •Inscribed by a negative definition:—•

The brave man is not he who feels no fear.

For that were stupid and irrational. But ho whose noble soul its fear subdues And bravely dares the dangers nature shrinks from.

The other day I was talking to a Light Horseman who had been smashed at the Nek when the Bth and lOth Regiments charged three trenches full of Turks in August last. What was the fueling of the men and his own feeling? "We expected," ho answered me at once, "to attain our objective, which was Baby 700 ; you know that knoll lying up the hill about 400yds away, and the lads were joking, a bit grimly, perhaps, that they would have breakfast there. Some knew that they would get knocked over, but each man thought he was going to get through." That is otic aspect. I spoke to another Light Horseman. "Yes, the men were very quiet. They knew it meant death to face that fire, and the rattle of bullets against the sandbags that ripped them to ribbons confirmed it loudly. But it was their job, and they had been waiting for the chance since they landed to show their mettle. Just before it was time for our line to go, one of the sergeants sent along a message to know if the 'old man' still meant the orders to be carried out. The answer came back, 'Yes.' With that, uttering a disgusted single swear woi'd, followed by the pronoun 'him,' the soldier jumped up on the parapet and fell back into his comrades' arms, shot through the breast." Who Avill say J hat fear found a place in that hero's heart?

AT THE LANDING. It was tho same nerve and spirit ■which made the men dash from the stranded boats and reach the cliffs, and keep on and on—tempered by the thought that certain aspersions had been cast on them. They meant to show that they could die bravely and fearlessly. One can bring no proofs to support such a statement beyond the impressions collected from scores of men. On the morning of April 25 the men had been silent, fearful of the unknown. Once loosed from the restraint their fear found expression in wild whoops, shouting, cheering, and mingled oaths and Arabic words, anything, in fact, that came into their minds. Probably the same reason that a child will whistle in the dark will make a sentry or a soldier or messenger on a perilous, bulletsinging journey talk to himself or whistle softlv.

The following story gives an insight into the soldier's mind, apart altogether from the humor of it. It is a hospital ward. A man is brought in, shot through the left breast at the spot where the heart would lie. He is alive and conscious. He ought to be dead, according to accepted rules of surgery. The doctor makes his examination astonished, and asks, probably not seriously, ''Where was your heart, young man, when this happened?" "It was in my mouth', sir," came the ready and perfectly genuine response.

CONVERSATION BEFORE ACTION

Watching the men tile into the trenches before their attack on Lone Pino trenches on the afternoon of August 6, I could not but help being struck by the quietness of the bat talioug. Yet the best, part of the men regarded it as a very disagreeable job to be done, but a job that miglib bring very permanent relief. They were not afraid to do it, for all had a chance, and, having escapist so far, they believed in their luck. No Australian has ever been afraid of a Turk. I have just been listening to a delightful story of a fleeing Turk pursued by a yelling Australian whoso bayonet was within a few inches of a suitable portion of the Ottoman subject, and who was calling after him: "Hi! Come-back here! I want you to race Postle." To return to Lone Pine. The men went—some with words of farewell on their lips, others just talking quietly to themselves. I know something of these conversations carried some much in this fashion (I have myself done so in ticklish, corners of Anzac) —-"Don't be a fool, Ted (his own name). You came out for this job. What if they could see me now at home. Fancy doing iihis for fun. That was a near one. D • him—plugged me cap—bit thick Never mind; ought toget through. The captain's all right still. H ! That was near. Ought to be all right when I get—" And so on. These and a hundred other thoughts keep flashing and recurring in the brain as you go on.

./j AN OFFICER'S CASE. P So one finds sonic men excited by & their fear, others made silent; some * talkative, others wordless and tongue-

tied, mere machines moving because they are trained to move—to their death. Some will talk cynically, some savagely, others tenderly, but seldom, Every man knows, however, that to relax, to show much pity, is to let go for a moment the control of the nerves; inevitably this is to court fear and eventual disaster which comes to so many strong men. Unhappy is their lot. I can tell of an officer—he now commands a battalion —who had seen much service before the war, but who went fearful into thv, hght on April 25. He was wounded leading his'men at Krithia. The wounds were bad and badly treated. J was with him when lie returned again to the firing line, lie told me he was afraid. I saw fear on that man's face. He did not mind me seeing it. One did not wonder, after the treatment lie had received. For two days that man spent the greater part of his time in the trenches. He fought down, simply because he had to, liis fear. He ceased to duck when shells came, or draw back from the past path of a bullet. Day by day I saw him getting a grip of himself. Then, when his time came I found him reorganising the defence of the terrible Lone Pine trenches, when wo were bombed from every angle. He was still apprehensive. Eve.yoiie was. B was a tine victory. His arguments were those used in Richard 11. by Shakespeare; when ho make.-.; the Duke of Carlisle declare:

To fear the foe, since fear oppressed!

strength, Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, And so your follies light against yourself.

One might almost say in a battle there are too many things to be afraid of. It becomes one great fear, so great that everything" suggests the seeking of safety, but squarely faced there are many who find the "game" so rousing that their fear quite vanishes. Others, fearful, fulfil their duty and often gain distinction. None who have really experienced it will ever tell you in a confidential talk (whatever they might say before untried men or in public) that, they were calm and unafraid. Calm they might have been, having fought their fear, but fear in some form or other came to them, even if it was in the shape of doubt of their chances of "getting through." Does it make their deeds less valiant, their spirit less nobje? Does it make the army less fine? Never.