the minds of men as condoners of crime, as accessories
after the fact.

The only chance for permanent peace, and guarantee that these
abominable crimes shall not be committed again, is that we should so
punish Germany that she shall realize "that war does not _pay_," and
that the whole earth may know that no nation can commit these
atrocities and go unpunished.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF FEAR

The observation of men in many circumstances of peril has quite
convinced me that it is those who are most afraid that do the bravest
deeds. I do not mean that the fact that they are afraid increases the
difficulty of the doing, because it lessens it. It is fear that drives
men to heroism! And many a man attempts the superhuman feat of courage
not to show to others that he is no coward, but as evidence in the
court of his own judgment, to disprove the accusations of conscience,
which asserts he is craven. The old illustration of one soldier who
accused another of having no bravery because he had no fear, by saying,
"If you were as much afraid as I am you would have run away long ago,"
is not true to life, for it is the man of dulled feelings that is the
first to run, and the "man who is afraid of being afraid" who stays at
his post to the last. I have ever found that the best scouts, men who
must generally work alone in the dark, are those of highly strung
nervous temperaments. I have noticed, too, that our best airmen were
of the same type, for if you go into any mess of pilots on the front
you will see them always fidgeting, their hands never still, betraying
nervousness. I have gone down the trench before a charge and seen the
men with teeth chattering and blanched faces, but at the appointed
second these men go over the top, none hesitating, every man performing
prodigies of valor; not one but was a hero, yet not one that was not
afraid.

There must be something wrong with the make-up of a man who under
modern artillery-fire is not afraid. There are no nerves that do not
break down eventually under the strain, but the man who shrinks from a
shadow, and shudders at the touch of cold mud does his job with care
and walks unhesitatingly into the mouth of hell. I have seen our
signallers mending the telephone-wire under fire; each time it would
break they would curse and tremble, but immediately go out and repair
it accurately, slowly, no skimped work, repeating the performance again
and again. There i