Whatever the complexities of skilled command and the contemporary nuances of war amongst the people, more than being intelligent, tough, trustworthy or compassionate, physical example seems to transcend every other leadership quality at this moment.

One soldier, Private David Poderis, a 37-year-old reservist with 5 Scots, related a multitude of reasons to me for crawling away from a firefight near Musa Qala last summer. Stuck on a flat roof, Poderis was being shot at by many insurgents.

They wanted especially to kill him because he was a machine-gunner. Their fire was heavy, accurate and enduring. Bullets were kicking dust and stone chips into his face. Incoming rocket and machine gun fire cut the air above him. He was frightened.

Then he was shot in the head. A bullet hit his helmet dead centre on his forehead, curling through the interior lining and exiting out of the back, leaving his night-vision straps dangling beside his eyes.

“I had a bout of fear,” he admitted. “But I looked around and saw the captain dodging about, changing position, firing back. Like a cat on a hot tin roof he was. And seeing him still at it gave me a boost. Not that I would have stopped firing anyway. But the feelings of fear left me.”

So he did not crawl away. He accepted “the contract”, stayed where he was and kept on firing back.

“If you see strength in other people it gives you strength in yourself as well,” he explained quietly, capturing the most ancient and indivisible essence of leadership in war.

“Has anyone here ever been shot at?” I hear the words again and can only wonder at how little we knew.