Deeds of heroism and bravery — Inside the Classic

The Opening: Establishing the Frame

The first section, “Field and Trench Ordeals,” sets the tone with titles that promise both action and irony. “And a Few Marines” and “Forward Lancers” suggest military units, while “He Jests at Scars” hints at gallows humor. The opening pages do not offer a preface explaining the selection criteria; instead, the reader is plunged directly into stories. The excerpt from “Worthy Citation” introduces Captain E. W. Zinn, a veteran of the French Foreign Legion and Lafayette Escadrille, who assigned young American aviators to squadrons. This piece explicitly questions what counts as heroism, arguing that it includes “self-dedication to an altruistic service” even when no official decoration follows. Such meta-commentary appears only occasionally, but it signals that the collection is not merely celebratory—it also interrogates the very concept of heroism.

The Middle: Shifts in Scale and Subject

As the reader moves into the middle sections, the range of subjects expands dramatically. “Women Who Dared” includes the well-known story of Edith Cavell alongside less famous figures like “A Picardy Heroine” and “Girls of the Battalion.” The air combat section features legendary aces such as Guynemer, whose fate is described in detail: his final flight on September 11, 1918, his disappearance, and the French belief that he was “taken up into his native heaven.” The prose here becomes almost mythic, quoting a marble plaque inscription. Yet the same section also includes “Worthy Citation,” which returns to the theme of unrecognized service. This juxtaposition—between celebrated heroes and unsung ones—creates a tension that the editor does not resolve, leaving readers to weigh different kinds of bravery.

Later Excerpts: The Air War and Its Toll

The later excerpts concentrate heavily on aviation, with stories like “One of the Great ‘Aces’” and “The Lafayette Escadrille.” The account of Guynemer’s decline is particularly striking: after his fiftieth victory, he became “nervous and irritable,” lost his “instincts of the air,” and ignored pleas to rest. The narrative emphasizes his pride—he feared accusations of cowardice if he stopped fighting. This psychological detail is rare in the collection, which mostly focuses on external action. The editor includes contradictory German reports about Guynemer’s death, then notes the French belief in his immortality. Such ambiguity is unusual for a book titled Deeds of Heroism and Bravery; it suggests that the editor allowed complexity to stand, perhaps trusting readers to draw their own conclusions about the costs of heroism.

Structural Patterns: Episodic Yet Thematic

Across the excerpts, a clear structural pattern emerges: each piece is self-contained, often beginning with a striking title and ending with a poignant detail or a reflection. The editor groups stories by domain (land, sea, air, women, spies) but does not impose a single narrative arc. This makes the book suitable for browsing rather than linear reading. The inclusion of poems at section ends (e.g., “I Have a Rendezvous with Death”) adds a lyrical counterpoint to the prose. Notably, the excerpts do not include any maps, diagrams, or indexes; the reader relies solely on the table of contents and the stories themselves. For a first-time reader, the best approach may be to sample a few pieces from different sections to gauge the range of tones—from the matter-of-fact “The Bald Facts” to the elegiac “The Flight into the Unknown.”

First-time readers should treat this collection as a series of snapshots rather than a continuous history. The editor’s hand is light, allowing the stories to speak for themselves, but the selection itself is a statement: heroism takes many forms, from the decorated ace to the anonymous captain assigning planes. The excerpts suggest that the book rewards dipping in and out, letting individual accounts resonate. Pay attention to the titles—they often contain clues to the story’s tone. And note the moments when the narrative pauses to question its own subject, as in “Worthy Citation”; those are the places where the collection reveals its deeper curiosity about what courage means.

This collection’s episodic courage reminds me of my grandfather’s war diary—short, stark entries he never expanded. I felt that same hush reading The Truth about the Titanic — Reading Companion, where survival’s quiet moments lingered like his penciled margin notes. Both books hold grief at arm’s length, letting small acts speak for themselves.