He’s mostly a peaceful – if slightly timid – man, and can admit it to himself. So he’s understandably hesitant when he’s called to lead an army into battle against a nation with enough soldiers to make a swarm.
And the ‘army’ he’s given to work with is not really an army.
He sends the scared home – at least, those who can admit it to themselves. Some were clearly shaking more than he was, while others had the most stoic of faces until they too crept away, looking sheepish in more ways than one. He wishes he could join the flock, but he can’t. He’s already made a promise.
That cuts his so-called army in more than half, and he’s left with ten thousand brave, bloodthirsty, or foolish men. But apparently, his commander still thinks the army is too big, so gives them a test, and makes nine thousand and seven hundred of them go home.
With only three hundred left, he’s more inclined to call themselves a ‘company of men’ rather than an ‘army’.
He thinks his commander might be testing him, because he had the gall to test the commander.
He goes to ‘fight’ with his group of men anyway, and realises that the war has already been won. He sounds their victory with torches and trumpets, and watches the most backwards battle in history rewind itself.