of
apprehension suddenly arising; but rather let us ever give the greater
honour and glory to those rare beings, those supermen, who without a
thought of self, dash into the fiery blast to save a stricken comrade,
or who strike a ringing blow for their cause under the jaws of horrid
death, whose hands are stretched out to clutch them.

In the light of these general reflections on human nature let us
consider first the achievement of Drummer William Kenny, who, though
serving in the 2nd Battalion of the Gordon Highlanders, is a Drogheda
man. Near Ypres, on October 23rd, 1914, he exposed himself to heavy
fire on five separate occasions, in order to rescue wounded men. Twice
previously he saved machine-guns by carrying them out of action. "Also
on numerous occasions," says the official record, "Drummer Kenny
conveyed urgent messages in very dangerous circumstances over
fire-swept ground." What makes Kenny's heroism very remarkable is that
it was not displayed in a single instance, by one act; but was, as we
see, repeated over and over again, and in a variety of ways.

He is a very modest as well as fearless man. I saw him at the Mansion
House, London, one day in March, 1915, when he was presented with a
gold watch by the Lord Mayor, on behalf of the Musicians' Company. The
first thing that caught my attention in his appearance was the mingled
kindliness and resolution expressed in his face. It was obvious, from
his shy manner, that he was greatly embarrassed, if not made quite
miserable, indeed, by being so much noticed, and would have rather
remained in the background. "Thank you all," was his simple
acknowledgment of the Company's expressions of admiration and regard.
He is also a reticent man. Not a word did he say to anyone about his
exploits until the announcement that he had been awarded the Victoria
Cross appeared in the newspapers. Even then, he declined to be
regarded as a hero. "It was just what anyone would do in the
circumstances," he said. "There are many others out there who have
done the same thing, only nobody knows it. You see some of your pals
lying out in the open under fire. You know it is they or you; so you
just go out and fetch them in." It was the same in regard to his
single-handed action in saving the machine-guns. "The Maxims had to
be fetched," he said; "and I did it. That's all." As a case of
unobtrusive and, indeed, unconscious heroism that of Drummer Kenny
would be hard to beat.

His nati