ling for heroic
action. They could fight, they could lead, they knew what should be
done, they could persuade other men to rally around, and by these
things, they could command instantly the previously withheld respect
of their superiors.

Neither the scientific nor the military mind has yet been able to
provide the answer as to how men of this type--so indispensable to the
fighting establishment in the thing that matters most, though lacking
in strong surface characteristics--can be detected beforehand, and
conserved, instead of being wasted possibly in a labor or housekeeping
organization.

All concerned recognize the extreme importance of the problem, and
would like to do something about it. What is as yet not even vaguely
seen is the large possibility that the problem might be
self-liquidating if all junior officers became more concerned with
learning all they could about the private character and personal
nature of their subordinates. This does not mean invading their
privacy; but it implies giving every man a fair chance to open up and
to talk freely, without fear of contempt. It means studying the
background of a man even more carefully than one would read a map,
looking for the key to command of the terrain. These are usually
repressed men; many of the foreign-born are to be found among them;
they cover up because of pride, but they are not afraid of physical
danger. Once any man, and particularly a superior, gets through the
outer shell, he may have the effect of a catalyst on what is happening
inside. If such men did not have basic loyalty, they would never
fight. When at last they give their loyalty to an individual, they are
usually his to command and will go through hell for him.

There was an Oklahoma miner named Alvin Wimberley in 90th Division
during World War I. On the drill field, he could do nothing correctly.
He couldn't step off on the left foot; he would frequently drop his
piece while trying to do right shoulder. Solely because his case was
unfathomable, his platoon leader asked that he be taken to France with
the unit instead of separated with the culls. At the front, Wimberley
immediately took the lead in every detail of a dangerous sort, such as
exploding a mine field, or hunting for traps and snares. His nerve was
inexhaustible; his judgment sure. There was, after all, a simple key
to the mystery. Wimberley had led a solitary life as a dynamiter, deep
under ground. He was frightened of men