A
sudden disaster overtakes that army--the death of a great general, the
miscarriage of some plan, a surprise attack, any of the chances of war,
and the strength of the army is pierced, the discipline shaken, the
sense of security gone. There is an instinctive movement to retreat; the
habit of discipline keeps it orderly at first; the fear grows; all
precaution and restraint are thrown aside--the retreat is a rout, the
army a rabble, the end debacle. External discipline in giving them its
strength left them without individual resource; internal discipline was
ignored. When their combined strength was gone there was individual
helplessness and panic. Consider, now, a remnant of that army, the
members of which have the courage of the finer quality, individually
resolute and set on resistance, clearly seeing at once all the possible
consequences of their action, yet with that higher quality of soul
accepting them without hesitation, pledging all human hopes for one
last great hope of snatching victory from defeat, or, if not to save a
lost battle, to check an advancing host, rally flying forces, and redeem
a campaign. This is the heroic quality. In a crisis, the mind possessed
of it does not wait for instructions or to reason a conclusion. It sees
definite things, and swift as thought decides. There are flying legions,
a flag down, a conquering army, and flight or death--to all eyes these
are apparent; but to a brave company between that flight and death there
is a gleam of hope, of victory, and for that forlorn hope flight is put
by with the acceptance of death in the alternative if they fail.
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