We have to grasp a distinction, knowledge of which is essential to
discerning true strength. It can be clearly seen in the contrast between
two certain fighting forces; first, a well-organised army, capably led,
marching forward full of hope and buoyancy; second, a remnant of that
army after disaster, a mere handful, not swept like their comrades in
panic, but with souls set to fight a forlorn hope. Let us study the two:
in the contrast we shall learn the secret. The courage of the
well-organised army is not of so fine a quality as that nerving the few
to fight to the last gasp. Consider first the army. What is its value as
a force? Its discipline, its consolidation, the absolute obedience of
its units to its officers, with the resulting unity of the whole; added
to this is the sense of security in numbers, buoyancy of marching in a
compact body, confidence in capable chiefs--all these factors go to the
making of the courage and strength of the army. It is because their
combination makes for the reliability of the force that discipline is
so much valued and enforced, even to the point of death. Let us keep
this in our mind, that their strength lies in their numbers,
concentration, unity, reliance on one another and on their chiefs. A
sudden disaster overtakes that army--the death of a great general, the
miscarriage of some plan, a surprise attack, any of the chances of war,
and the strength of the army is pierced, the discipline shaken, the
sense of security gone. There is an instinctive movement to retreat; the
habit of discipline keeps it orderly at first; the fear grows; all
precaution and restraint are thrown aside--the retreat is a rout, the
army a rabble, the end debacle. External discipline in giving them its
strength left them without individual resource; internal discipline was
ignored. When their combined strength was gone there was individual
helplessness and panic. Consider, now, a remnant of that army, the