The cavalry, above all, held the power of
supreme command in a war of machines and chemistry and national
psychology. . . .
I should hate to attack the Regular officer. His caste belonged to the
best of our blood. He was the heir to fine old traditions of courage
and leadership in battle. He was a gentleman whose touch of arrogance
was subject to a rigid code of honor which made him look to the
comfort of his men first, to the health of his horse second, to his
own physical needs last. He had the stern sense of justice of a Roman
Centurian, and his men knew that though he would not spare them
punishment if guilty, he would give them always a fair hearing, with a
point in their favor, if possible. It was in their code to take the
greatest risk in time of danger, to be scornful of death in the face
of their men whatever secret fear they had, and to be proud and
jealous of the honor of the regiment. In action men found them good to
follow--better than some of the young officers of the New Army, who
had not the same traditional pride nor the same instinct for command
nor the same consideration for their men, though more easy-going and
human in sympathy.
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