It would therefore be surprising if the recruit joined the Army with a highly pitched conception of the work he has undertaken.  Destitution; or trouble about a woman, or with his own people, or with the police; or the mysterious magnetism of an adventurous life rather than the desire to serve his country, has induced him to enlist.  An existing or prospective War always keeps the recruiting sergeant busy, but the object of a War is a matter of indifference to the recruit.  Most of our wars have been waged for political reasons which he cannot understand.  Apart from the difficulties of language and of unaccustomed environments, he would as readily serve in any other Army in which the pay was as liberal and the restraint of discipline not more irksome.  How is it, then, that lacking the stimulus of Patriotism through no fault of his own and being, in fact, a mercenary, he becomes an excellent soldier; perhaps, next to the Turk, the best in Europe?

The answer seems to be that he soon acquires a high sense of Duty.  Duty may be defined as the necessity to do something for one’s own or for the general good which is not naturally pleasurable or agreeable or instinctively desired.  In the trite proverb it is contrasted with and takes precedence of Pleasure.  As a motive for action it stands on a higher plane than Patriotism.

The alchemic process by which the indifferent, unemotional, and sometimes unintelligent recruit is transmuted into the precious metal of the soldier who wins battles seems to be somewhat as follows:  Of his own volition he has taken on a certain job and his dogged pride or obstinacy will not allow him to be beaten by it, however little enthusiasm it may arouse in him and however distasteful it may be to him at first.  He offers no “ca’ canny” service, but plods on and does his best in his own way.  The lack of the enthusiastic temperament does not seriously retard the progress of his military education, and without much ado he becomes a stolid dependable unit of the Army.  He is not carried away by success nor unduly depressed by failure.  His instincts tell him that they are the accidents of Duty.

It has been noticed that the word Glory and its derivatives[9] rarely appear in the accounts of the action of the British Army on service, except in a War Correspondent’s letter or telegram.  No reference is made in reports, orders or despatches to the so-called “glorious” incidents of a soldier’s life in time of war.  He is commended for his endurance, his tenacity and his matter-of-fact acceptance of the vicissitudes of war as “part of the day’s work.”  The truest Glory is the conscientious performance of Duty.