The terrible thing was that I remembered the battle very clearly, and my own incredible behaviour – I knew I’d gone bawling about like a Viking in drink, seeking sorrow and raving heroically in murderous rage, but I couldn’t for the life of me understand why. It had been utterly against nature, instinct and judgement – and I knew it hadn’t been booze, because I hadn’t had any, and anyway the liquor hadn’t been distilled that could make me oblivious of self-preservation. It appalled me, for what security does a right-thinking coward have, if he loses his sense of panic?
Flashman at the Charge, pp.281-2, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.
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