Men are brave because of many motives. When they are standing shoulder to shoulder facing an enemy, few of them flinch, no matter how dark the outlook is at the moment. Their pride in themselves, their loyalty to their native land, their love of their comrades, and their hatred for the enemy combine to prevent them from allowing fear to conquer them. Fear, _per se_, is another matter. Practically all men experience fear under fire at times, but they grit their teeth and press on. The quality that makes them do this is what we call courage. Any man who could look into a hole in the ground into which you could drop a small house, and, knowing this hole was made by a large caliber shell, yet feel no fear on going through a barrage of such shells, is not a brave man; he's an imbecile. As Kelly said: "A man that's not afeard o' thim shells has more courage than sinse." But even outside of that natural fear of shells there is no doubt that at certain moments during the multitudinous dangers of war all men really feel afraid. It cannot be avoided if a man sets any value whatever upon his life; 999 out of 1,000 conquer that impulse to fly, and carry on, the thousandth allows the impulse to conquer him. He is thereafter branded, "coward," unless he retrieves himself later. Instinctively the brave man is recognized by his fellowmen. In a dangerous advance there are usually a few who drop behind, hide in a shellhole or dugout till the danger passes or lessens, and then rejoin their unit, claiming to have been lost or stunned by a shell. In this way they escape being accused of, and perhaps shot for, desertion. It may be that these men are more to be pitied than blamed. Self preservation is the first law of nature, but it is a physical law, and the moral law that man must not be a coward overrules it. A few hours after the advance over Vimy Ridge, my corporal and I, while dressing wounded on the field, met a number of stragglers, all going toward the front lines. They gave various excuses for being behind their companies, and some no doubt told the truth, but it is also certain that a few had shirked. There is a legitimate nervousness, named "shell shock." The real cases of this condition, when they are extreme, are sad to see. An officer or Tommy, who has previously been an excellent soldier, suddenly develops "nerves" to such an extent as to be uncontrollable. He trembles violently, his heart may be disorderly in rhythm, he has a terrified air, the slightest noise makes him jump and even occasionally run at top speed to a supposed place of safety. He is the personification of terror, at times crying out or weeping like a child. He is unfit for duty, and will require rest for an extended time. Some cases are not so extreme as this and may simply display sufficient nervousness to prevent their going on.