THE PSYCHOLOGY OF FEAR
From a prolonged and varied experience under shell-fire, machine-gun,
rifle, trench-mortar fire, etc., and from an intimate and close
association with men of all kinds in times of deadly peril, it seems
evident to me that personal courage is very largely a matter of
physical condition and general health, and that, provided a man be
healthy and his nerves in good condition, it is natural for him to be
brave.
In the case of a man of liberal education, used to the refinements of
life, imagination is an important factor of personal bravery, and I
think it would not be incorrect to say that sixty per cent of his
courage is dependent upon the possession of good health, and the
remaining forty per cent representing strong control of will and
nerves.
He who is less educated, less sensitive, or whose nerves are less
highly strung, relies to a greater extent on his physical condition,
and the element of imagination is naturally less, representing, one
might say, for purposes of comparison, eighty per cent physical
condition and twenty per cent mental. The imagination of such a one,
as a rule, does not carry him to the same lengths as does that of an
educated man, and his envisage, as it might be termed, is only
concerned with the actual events happening in the immediate vicinity,
while his mind quite philosophically reviews, or more often fails to
consider, the possible dangers ahead of him. The mind of the man of
intelligence is so much more active, sees so much further, and his
observation and experience so plainly tell him certain possible and
eventual consequences, that it is only by the exercise of very strong
will-power that he succeeds in subduing the apprehensions into which
his superior mentality carries him and in rising above them.
As a matter of actual fact, every one, educated and uneducated alike
in different degree, experiences some distressing reflections on the
eve of an attack, especially of an infantry attack. For the ten or
fifteen minutes immediately preceding the "zero" hour, as it is
called, or the second in which the men go "over the top" they usually
have some leisure moments in which they are bound to reflect upon a
possibly disastrous outcome. This period is particularly trying, but
the average man is much more afraid of being thought afraid by his
comrades than he is of the danger itself, and this feeling is
necessarily greater in the minds of the more imaginative. Once he is
started in the actual forward movement and has work to do, his mind is
occupied nearly always to the complete exclusion of everything but the
matter in hand; the excitement drives the emotion of natural fear from
his mind; only in the lulls in the action is he conscious of any
unpleasant moments, and it is just for such moments as these that our
strenuous military training is largely intended. Weak men fail under
the strain, and disasters ensue. But the long hours of drill and
training have so instilled habits of self-control and obedience that
this, combined with the inherent strong characters of men, the
necessities of the moment, and their desire and determination to do
their best, enable them to rise to heights never experienced at times
less critical.
The above remarks refer to the sensations of the soldier about to
enter upon an attack; every-day trench warfare is rather different.
During quiet intervals, when the enemy are not raining missiles in his
immediate vicinity, only his subconscious mind asserts itself, and the
nervous strain, although existent, does not usually evidence itself in
any outward form. However, when troops are being shelled badly, or, I
should say, being "strafed," a worried and reflective look can be seen
in the eyes of most men, which is usually accompanied by perspiration
as a physical sign. Trench warfare has been very accurately defined as
"months of intense boredom punctuated by moments of intense funk."
This expression seems to cover the experience fairly well.
As a general thing, it is true that occupation of some kind which
involves mental effort is nearly always effective in banishing
thoughts of fear, and in times of extreme danger the most courageous
of acts are performed when one is so absorbed in the endeavor to
accomplish the purpose desired that the slightest thought is not given
to the possibility of death, wounds, or sacrifice; and it is due to
this absolute self-effacement that the most heroic deeds are done.
The unknown always presents the most fearsome aspect. A known and
experienced danger invariably results in a much-increased confidence
in one's will and powers of self-control.
The attitude of men in trench warfare is an illustration. For the
first week or two they are "jumpy" and take very good care not to
expose themselves needlessly; their imagination runs away with them to
some extent, and they conjure up in their minds visions of themselves
wounded, maimed, or even blown to pieces. Especially do these
mind-pictures rise when they are alone in dangerous places. I remember
that soon after I first went into the trenches, and, walking by myself
at night (when it seems somehow that all dangers are accentuated) over
a stretch of flat ground where no cover or shelter existed, and where,
nightly, the enemy would pour a hail of machine-gun bullets over us. I
remember well the very unpleasant sensations which raced through my
mind, and of its dwelling particularly on the chance of my being hit
and of being left badly wounded there on the ground for hours
unnoticed, or until daylight came. I do not doubt but that my mind,
like others, was naturally influenced by some of the terrible things
we had seen. One of the first sights that I happened upon in the very
place to which I have just referred was a poor chap, a fellow engineer
officer, who had been caught by a machine-gun fire, and who was lying
dead in the path. How long he had been lying there I do not know.
Men are not usually alone in the front-line trenches, day or night,
but occasionally this happens. I can recall very distinctly, in going
my rounds visiting the different mine-shafts alone at night, of
wondering, as I walked from fire-bay to fire-bay, separated by earth
traverses or blocks, as to whether, as I cautiously made my way
around, I would suddenly stumble on some Boche stealthily prowling
there in the bay ahead or whether one would catch me from behind in
the dark as I passed along. I was ready for them at any time, always
carrying a couple of small bombs in my blouse pocket, but it's an
eerie feeling that one has when patrolling sectors which are very
close and often raided by the enemy at night. After many such
experiences as these, men begin to form those habits of self-control
which must characterize a good soldier.
But "revenons à nos moutons," as our French comrades say. After the
first two or three weeks the average man acquires more confidence, and
at this time the officers of his unit have to be especially careful in
warning him against needless exposure. Then it is that he gets
reckless, looks over the parapet every now and then, and in other ways
shows an overconfidence which always results in an increase in the
casualty lists.
A few months pass--a short time in an ordinary life, but a time so
crowded with different sensations to the man in the trenches that it
seems an eternity--he develops into a seasoned and confident soldier,
and, while showing at all necessary times the strength and courage of
the real fighting man in not fearing to make or face any attack, he
meanwhile sensibly takes advantage of all possible cover available in
the hope that he may not become a casualty before he has been of some
real service to his country.
It is, of course, my conviction that, man for man, we are more than a
match for our enemy; and when hand-to-hand fighting occurs, we can
always rely on our fellows smashing the Hun. It is inspiring to me to
see the confidence with which our new soldiers take their training: at
first diffident, and later growing in confidence and assurance as they
realize their ability to take care of themselves and punish the enemy.
It has been my privilege to lecture to engineer officers and men, and
I have felt to a marked degree the enthusiasm and conviction of
superiority which is in the soul of every fighting man at our big
camps.
What real man could fail to feel the grip of this war? Who would
hesitate to show in a practical way the thoughts and ideals for which
America stands? For is not _every one_ called upon to do _his_ share
for humanity and freedom?