stroyed and renewed so often since the
war began that the original personality of the thing, the sense of
memory, the link with the past and all its traditions, no longer
survives. An infantry regiment bears an old name; but it is a new
thing. Its resemblance to the regiment which bore the name before the
war is superficial, a thin veneer. In spirit, outlook, tone,
interest, tradition, in all but courage and patriotism, it is
different. In the cavalry this great change has not taken place.
The cavalry suffered heavily in the early days of the war and has
lost many men since. Large numbers of recruits have come in to make
good the losses. But the number of new men has never been so great as
to destroy the old regiment's power of absorption. Recruits have been
digested by the original body. They have grown up in the tradition of
the regiment and have been formed by its spirit. The difference
between the cavalry troopers and the infantry privates of the army of
to-day is difficult to define; but it is very easily felt and plain
to recognise.
Perhaps it is most clearly seen in the attitude of men towards their
officers. In the old army officers were a class apart. Everything
that could be done was done to emphasise the distinction between
officers and men. And the distinction was a real, not an artificial
thing. The officer was different from the men he commanded. He
belonged to a different class. He had been educated in a different
way. He was accustomed before he joined the army and after he left it
to live a life utterly unlike the life of the men he commanded. It
can scarcely have been necessary to deepen by disciplinary means the
strong, clear line between officers and men.
In the new army all that can be done by regulations is done to keep
up the idea of the officer super class. But the distinction now is an
artificial one, not a real one. Neither in education, social class,
manner of life, wealth, nor any other accident are our new officers
distinct from the men they command.
For the men of the old army the officer was a leader because he was
recognisably in some sense a superior. He might be a good officer or
a poor one, brave and efficient or the reverse. Whatever his personal
qualities he was an officer, a natural leader.
For the men of the new army an officer is an officer more or less by
accident. No one recognises any kind of divine right to leadership.
Discipline may insist, does quite rightly insis
|