III — An Odd Muster
The Spirit of the Battalion
A corporate body is always a great mystery. Before very long it always develops a spirit which is something more than the sum of the individual spirits which compose it. And no man can quite say how it comes into existence. It may be a greater spirit than that of any individual. Sometimes it is not so great as that of its members.
And Battalions are no exception to this rule. Each brings forth a spirit, and by that spirit the members are henceforth profoundly influenced. It is not the spirit of the Colonel, or of any particular member. It is the spirit of the Battalion, something compounded by the subtle alchemies of the spiritual world out of the individual souls of officers and privates alike.
Of the spirit of the 17th H.L.I. it may at once be said that the outstanding characteristic was high-hearted youth. Most of the members of the Battalion were young, but the Battalion itself had the qualities of youth more truly than any of them. It was essentially gay. It did its work to the accompaniment of a fine hilarity. It could laugh even on the eve of battle. It could even be uproarious and exuberant as only the really young can.
And yet it was very efficient youth. To a man these soldiers took their work seriously, and because they brought to it a fine quality of intelligence, the Battalion rose to efficiency with astonishing rapidity. Many men read eagerly in text books about training and tactics and so forth, and the Battalion from end to end was intolerant of slovenliness. If it resembled a young man, it was a young man who meant business.
It was also very gifted youth. Its athletic record speaks for itself, as does also its military record. But other gifts were lavished upon it. It knew and loved good literature. It had numbers of trained singers and musicians. It had dramatic possibilities in it. It knew much of science and mechanics. That young thing which we call the 17th H.L.I. in fact loved life, and every side of life. It throbbed with energy of body, mind, and spirit. It tingled with many sided vitality.
But above all, it was loveable youth. Few bodies of soldiers have ever so fully won the affections of towns and country districts. It has left a mark of its own on Troon, Prees Heath, Wensley, Sheffield, and Codford. People hurried out to see the column go by, and after it was gone the hearts of men and women were happier because of it. It came to have a place in the lives of thousands, and they all thought of it with affection. As we look back on it now it lives with us as a silver memory,—something belonging to the world of sunshine and laughter, of beauty and of courage. The West of Scotland gave of its best to make up that whole, and while it lived it made a place for itself in the hearts of the West, which is secure for all time.
Its career was short, but its immortality is safe.
It is good to have known it. And though tragedy unspeakable dogged its footsteps, and broke its life in this world, it lives and will always live gloriously in the hearts and memories of uncounted men and women who believe more in humanity, and perhaps even believe more in God because of the “Seventeenth.”