Ordeal by Battle

by Frederick Scott Oliver

It is horrible enough to be butchered anywhere, but why more horrible in the valley of the Rhine than in that of the Thames? If national safety demands butchery, as it has often done in the past, surely the butchery of 50,000 brave men on the borders of Luxemburg is a less evil than the butchery of twice that number in the vicinity of Norwich? And if we are to consider national comfort as well as safety, it is surely wise to follow the German example and fight in any man's country rather than in our own. The only question of real importance is this:—At what place will the sacrifice of life be most effective for the defence of the country? If we can answer that we shall know also where it will be lightest.[[1]]

THE HONOUR OF THE ARMY

The school of political thought which remained predominant throughout the great industrial epoch (1832-1886) bitterly resented the assumption, made by certain classes, that the profession of arms was more honourable in its nature, than commerce and other peaceful pursuits. The destruction of this supposed fallacy produced a great literature, and even a considerable amount of poetry. It was a frequent theme at the opening of literary institutes and technical colleges, and also at festivals of chambers of commerce and municipalities. Professors of Political Economy expounded the true doctrine with great vehemence, and sermons were preached without number upon the well-worn text about the victories of peace.

This reaction was salutary up to a point. It swept away a vast quantity of superannuated rubbish. International relations were at this time just as much cumbered with old meaningless phrases of a certain sort, in which vainglory was the chief ingredient, as they have recently been cumbered with others of a different sort in which indolence was the chief ingredient. Inefficiency, indifference, idleness, trifling, and extravagance were a standing charge against soldiers as a class; and though they were never true charges against the class, they were true, for two generations following after Waterloo, against a large number of individuals. But this reaction, like most other reactions, swept away too much.

THE PROFESSION OF ARMS

A mercenary soldiery which looks to enrich itself by pay and plunder is an ignoble institution. It has no right to give itself airs of honour, and must be judged like company promotion, trusts, or any of the many other predatory professions of modern times. It is also a national danger, inasmuch as its personal interest is to foment wars. The British Army has never been open to this charge in any period of its history.

A profession in which it is only possible, by the most severe self-denial and economy, for an officer—even after he has arrived at success—to live on his pay, to marry, and to bring up a family, can hardly be ranked as a money-making career. Pecuniary motives, indeed, were never the charge against 'the military' except among the stump-orator class. But professional indifference and inefficiency were, at that particular time, not only seriously alleged, but were also not infrequently true. It was a good thing that slackness should be swept away. That it has been swept away pretty thoroughly, every one who has known anything about the Army for a generation past, is well aware.

But the much-resented claim to a superiority in the matter of honour is well founded, and no amount of philosophising or political-economising will ever shake it. Clearly it is more honourable for a man to risk his life, and what is infinitely more important—his reputation and his whole future career—in defence of his country, than it is merely to build up a competency or a fortune. The soldier's profession is beset by other and greater dangers than the physical. Money-making pursuits are not only safer for the skin, but in them a blunder, or even a series of blunders, does not banish the hope of ultimate success. The man of business has chances of retrieving his position. Many bankrupts have died in affluence. In politics, a man with a plausible tongue and a certain quality of courage, will usually succeed in eluding the consequences of his mistakes, by laying the blame on other people's shoulders. But the soldier is rarely given a second chance; and he may easily come down at the first chance, through sheer ill-luck, and not through any fault of his own. Such a profession confers honour upon its members.

Law, trade, and finance are not in themselves, as was at one time thought, dishonourable pursuits; but neither are they in themselves honourable. They are neither the one nor the other. It casts no slur upon a man to be a lawyer, a tradesman, or a banker; but neither does it confer upon him any honour. But military service does confer an honour. The devotion, hardship, and danger of the soldier's life are not rewarded upon a commercial basis, or reckoned in that currency.

Some people are inclined to mock at the respect—exaggerated as they think—which is paid by conscript countries to their armies. For all its excesses and absurdities, this respect is founded upon a true principle—a truer principle of conduct than our own. In countries where most of the able-bodied men have given some years of their lives gratuitously to the service of their country, the fact is brought home to them, that such service is of a different character from the benefits which they subsequently confer upon the State by their industry and thrift, or by growing rich.