Beyond the call of duty

David Crane’s latest book is much more interesting than its title would lead you to believe. If you buy it hoping for a collection of stories of derring-do and British pluck, you won’t be wholly disappointed: you will indeed learn how Frank Abney Hastings, having got himself sacked from the Royal Navy for behaving like a petulant teenager when given his first command, went on almost single-handed to invent naval steam-powered gunboats, and used the first one he built to sink a ridiculous number of Turkish ships in the Greek War of Independence. You will read of Robert Peel’s son, William, winning his VC tossing live shells out of his battery at Sevastopol, riding out of the smoke and chaos to the rescue of the Grenadier Guards at Inkerman, immaculately dressed and accompanied by a midshipman on a pony, or dragging his naval 68-pounders up to the very walls of rebel forts in the Indian Mutiny. Then there is James Goodenough, somehow maintaining his Christianity in the disreputable warfare against the Chinese, which led to the sacking and burning of the Summer Palace, and refusing to allow reprisals against South Sea islanders whose treachery led to his lingering death from tetanus. There is plenty more: walk-on parts for Thomas Cochrane, Evelyn Wood VC, George Tryon and even an ominous appearance by the young Jackie Fisher.

But the real substance of the book is much more subtle and much more interesting. It is about the relationship between a civilised society, striving to settle disputes by means of courts of law or civil processes, and its warriors. However deep the peace, and however anxious to avoid the use of force they may be, even skilful leaders will not always succeed in avoiding war, and so warriors there must be. Conversely, how should the warriors behave in a world which is doing its best to do without them? What should their code be?