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Show M A SERIES OF Sk'"l:r (SPECIAL ARTICLES ' (TBYTHELEADIMO AtJ??A WAR CORRESPONPEWTSYg&J Battle Courage Capl. De Foney, U.S.N. (WNU Feature Through special arrangement arrange-ment with The American Magazine.) One of the first things to understand under-stand about military courage is that you cannot apply a yardstick to it in advance of action. Human fortitude forti-tude cannot be measured like the tensile strength of a bar of steel. Only battle can write the answers. Often as not. a lion turns out to be a lamb in combat, or a lamb a lion. For several months I served on one of the biggest aircraft carriers in the Pacific. On this ship was a downy-faced 18-year-old kid whom we called Babe. He was a timid, introspective sort of boy who read books in his bunk at night, stammered stam-mered when you spoke to him. and, while he was a member of a 50-cali-ber gun crew, he appeared to be just about everything a fighting man shouldn't be. Then, one azure morning, we were attacked by enemy dive-bombers. Down they came, peeling off one by one and lancing straight at the carrier. car-rier. We had fighters up, and our heavy antiaircraft slammed at the Japs like a hundred doors, but the kids back of the long file of 50-cali-bers just waited. During long, desperate des-perate seconds they simply had to stand and take it. I was watching Babe anxiously. He looked sick with fear. I wouldn't have been surprised to see him collapse col-lapse at his post. But he didn't collapse. As the bombers screamed into range and the 50-calibers blazed into action, the scared kid suddenly became a man a cool, efficient, and entirely deadly dead-ly man. He never faltered for an instant in the performance of his duties. Wartime Emotions. When the attack was beaten off. Babe was transformed. His face was flushed, his eyes bright, and he danced up and down on deck in a kind of unholy ecstasy. "We got one of 'em," he shouted jubilantly. That illustrates a point which many noncomtatants do not understand under-stand about war. It was largely discipline dis-cipline and training, of course, which enabled Babe and his comrades com-rades to stand fast during the terrible ter-rible seconds when the Japs, dived straight at them, but, once they were able to strike back, they were immensely strengthened by an emotion emo-tion which old-time writers used to refer to as "the fierce joy of battle." There comes a time, however, when the mental and nervous fatigue fa-tigue which results from constant risk-taking can, if continued long enough, sap the fortitude of the bravest. The case of Johnny Allen was like that. Razor-keen, spunky, a blue-eyed blue-eyed kid with a triangle of ginger hair on his forehead, Johnny had everything a fighter pilot needs. There wasn't anything in the air he was afraid of, and on the ground he was invariably good-natarcd, happy-go-lucky, always up to some amusing amus-ing deviltry. After his arrival In the Solomons, Johnny went on hazardous operational opera-tional missions day after day. Often he would be in combat two or three times in 24 hours. After a few weeks of this, Johnny's John-ny's personality underwent a marked change. In an airplane he seemed just as daring as ever, but he stopped enjoying life. Instead of horsing around with fellow pilots after aft-er a flight he would go off in a cor-ner cor-ner and read. He groused a lot. i One night he flew into a rage and j took a poke at his best friend merely because he had scattered some equipment on his cot. Rest Cure. The squadron's flight surgeon had a quiet talk with Johnny. He broke down and bawled in the middle ol it. The flight surgeon knew the symptoms. What really ailed John-ny John-ny was fatigue. He wouldn't admit it even to himself, but his nerve was gone. The surgeon sent him back to a hospital for rest, followed by leave. , When he returned to the squadron he was himself again, as brave and cheerful as ever, but if the doctor had not acted promptly Johnny might have suffered a nervoua crack-up which would have cost his i life, and possibly those of some oi the men who flew with him. Modern Improvements. In the amphibious warfare of the Pacific, one of the chief dangers to a flier is that of running out of gasoline gaso-line and being forced down at sea or over jungle, and, in the first months after Pearl Harbor, many a kid lay awake nights thinking ', about these hazards. Today they j worry less about them. They have been taught how to survive in the jungle, and they know that they have 7 out of 10 chances of being rescued if they are forced down at sea in the vicinity of the group of islands where fighting is now goinc on. |