g, and
intrepid; deeds, if not of reckless bravery, certainly of bravery
reckless of life for the attainment of the purpose in view. In a word,
they are deeds more representative of the traditional fiery
fearlessness of Celtic valour.

There is the case of Private Edward Dwyer, of the East Surrey
Regiment, who was born at Fulham, London, of Irish parents, his father
being a Galway man and his mother a native of Omeath. I saw him one
sunny day in July, 1915, coming down the Strand at the head of a
recruiting procession, and his appearance gave me at first a shock of
surprise. I do not know why it should be so, but it is the fact that
we usually associate intrepidity and resolution with men of powerful
physique and demeanour that suggests fearlessness. Perhaps the
illusion has taken its rise from misty recollections of the heroes of
the fiction-reading of our youth. That illusion has been dispelled,
for me, at least, by those V.C.-men of the war whom I have seen, and I
have seen several of them. In all of them, without exception, I should
say it was the mind that told and not so much the body. Dwyer looked
quite a boy, and one of small stature, too, as he walked that day
between two burly sergeants, to whose shoulders his head just about
reached. But I could see the Victoria Cross of dark bronze and its red
ribbon on the left breast of his khaki tunic. His hearty laughter and
smiles told of his pride and joy in the demonstration, of which he was
the central figure--silk-hatted men baring their heads to him; women,
young and old, pressing forward to kiss him; and the air filled with
shoutings and the blare of brass instruments. Then, from the plinth of
the Nelson Monument in Trafalgar Square, standing between two of
Landseer's great lions, he made a sprightly recruiting speech. "I
promise you this," said he, "a drink and a cigar for the first ten
recruits to come up here. Age is nothing. I was only sixteen when I
joined. I think the recruiting-sergeant must have been a little
short-sighted on purpose, because he enlisted me without any trouble.
Out at the Front there are men who are grey-headed. Doesn't it shame
you?" he cried, turning sharply to the young men in the crowd.

What was it that was done by this youngest of the V.C.'s this
stripling of eighteen who, before he enlisted, was a messenger-boy to
a greengrocer? He displayed "most conspicuous bravery and devotion to
duty" at Hill 60 on April 20th, 1915; and he did