but still more his honour as a soldier. In all the conditions of his
life, his dress, appearance, food, drink, accommodation, and work, his
individual preferences count for nothing, his efficiency as a soldier
counts for everything. At first he "hates" this, and "can't see
the point of" that. But by the time his training is complete he has
realized that whether he hates a thing or not, sees the point of a
thing or not, is a matter of the uttermost unimportance. If he is
wise, he keeps his likes and dislikes to himself.

All through his training he is learning the unimportance of his
individuality, realizing that in a national, a world crisis, it counts
for nothing. On the other hand, he is equally learning that as a unit
in a fighting force his every action is of the utmost importance. The
humility which the Army inculcates is not an abject self-depreciation
that leads to loss of self-respect and effort. Substituted for the old
individualism is a new self-consciousness. The man has become humble,
but in proportion the soldier has become exceeding proud. The old
personal whims and ambitions give place to a corporate ambition
and purpose, and this unity of will is symbolized in action by the
simultaneous exactitude of drill, and in dress by the rigid identity
of uniform. Anything which calls attention to the individual, whether
in drill or in dress, is a crime, because it is essential that the
soldier's individuality should be wholly subordinated to the corporate
personality of the regiment.

As I said before, the personal humility of the soldier has nothing in
it of abject self-depreciation or slackness. On the contrary, every
detail of his appearance, and every most trivial feature of his duty
assumes an immense significance. Slackness in his dress and negligence
in his work are military crimes. In a good regiment the soldier is