Suppose you were a soldier going into battle. You see your comrades
falling around you, disfigured and cut up; you hear their groans and
cries; and you are dreadfully afraid: and no shame to you. It is
the common human instinct of self-preservation. The bravest men
have told me that they are afraid at first going into action, and
that they cannot get over the feeling. But what part of you is
afraid? Your flesh, which is afraid of pain, just as a beast is of
the whip. Then your flesh perhaps says, Run away--or at least skulk
and hide--take care of yourself. But next, if you were a coward,
the law would come into your mind, and you would say, But I dare not
run away; for, if I do, I shall be shot as a deserter, or broke, and
drummed out of the army. So you may go on, even though you are a
coward: but that is not courage. You have not conquered your own
fear--you have not conquered yourself--but the law has conquered
you.
But, if you are a brave man, as I trust you all are, a higher spirit
than your own speaks to your spirit, and makes you say to yourself,
I dare not run away; but, more, I cannot run away. I should like
to--but I cannot do the things that I would. It is my duty to go
on; it is right; it is a point of honour with me to my country, my
regiment, my Queen, my God, and I must go on.
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