“It would be worth while seeing this man after a few months’ training has brought him into the ‘richt gait o’t.’ In fact, the way in which the men have fallen into the habit of discipline is as wonderful as the way they leaped into the line of service for their country’s sake when they were not forced to go. I recall one, who was only a type of many. Up in the mouth of a West Highland glen is a little cottage on a croft. And the man there was the last of his race. When others passed out to the world-wide conflict, his mother, who was very old, opposed his going. But she died. And then he drew his door to, locked it, and went to share the battle for liberty which to-day is shaking the earth. There are far more men of peace than men of quarrel fighting for the soul-compelling things that are of value beyond this dying world, and these are made of the true victory stuff. THEY ARE NOT TALKERS “None are less given to talk of what they have done than the very men whose deeds thrill others. They just saw the thing that was needed; they seized the flying moment, and did the deed that makes men’s hearts stand still. They came out of it with something akin to the elation of the sportsman who has scored a goal. They saved their side in the game. That was what they aimed at, and they were satisfied. “In my last battalion were two men who, working together, did breathless things without themselves being breathless. They enjoyed them. After one ‘stunt’ our people in the trench observed a man hanging on the enemy’s wire. His hand was slowly moving to and fro. They watched carefully, and saw clearly that he was signaling to them. A little group of officers gathered and considered the matter. But it was entirely impossible, they thought, to dream of attempting a rescue before darkness. So they resolved to get together a rescue party in the night and save. Meanwhile, however, these two worthies slipped away, crawled over No Man’s Land, and brought the poor fellow in. Rebuked for their temerity, their reply was, ‘We couldna thole the sicht o’ a chum oot yonder like that.’ Another time, after a bitter struggle in a patch of woodland between our line and the enemy’s, they came and reported that a man in khaki was to be seen moving from tree-stump to tree-stump, evidently in distress. ‘I think he’s daft,’ said one. And in the gloaming over they went, found him, and brought him in to safety. He had been wounded in the head and side, and left behind. The first day he had kept himself alive by drinking from the water-bottles of the dead; but he had lost his reason and his bearings, and was in despair when our brave fellows got him. And these men were killed later on by a slight accident down behind the lines.