But a violent death such as death in battle is obviously a different
matter. It comes to a man when he is in the full possession of his
health and vigour, and when every physical instinct is urging him
to self-preservation. If a man feared death in such circumstances
one could not be surprised, and yet in the present war hundreds of
thousands of men have gone to meet practically certain destruction
without giving a sign of terror.

The fact is that at the moment of a charge men are in an absolutely
abnormal condition.

I do not know how to describe their condition in scientific terms;
but there is a sensation of tense excitement combined with a sort of
uncanny calm. Their emotions seem to be numbed. Noises, sights, and
sensations which would ordinarily produce intense pity, horror, or
dread, have no effect on them at all, and yet never was their mind
clearer, their sight, hearing, etc., more acute. They notice all sorts
of little details which would ordinarily pass them by, but which now
thrust themselves on their attention with absurd definiteness--absurd
because so utterly incongruous and meaningless. Or they suddenly
remember with extraordinary clearness some trivial incident of their
past life, hitherto unremembered, and not a bit worth remembering! But
with the issue before them, with victory or death or the prospect of
eternity, their minds blankly refuse to come to grips.

No; it is not at the moment of a charge that men fear death. As in
the case of those who die in bed, Nature has an anesthetic ready for
the emergency. It is before an attack that a man is more liable to
fear--before his blood is hot, and while he still has leisure to