War Fugues

In the town of Beeston, in central England, lived Dr. Leonard Phipps Lockhart, a nervous, high-strung man of 41, with his devoted wife, Mary. As medical chief of Boots Pure Drug Co. (biggest British drug chain), he supervised the health and mental-hygiene activities of 22,000 employes. Three years ago, he got in the news by addressing a meeting of topflight British scientists on "neuroses and unbalanced lives." He knew what he was talking about.

In 1918, Leonard Lockhart had been a soldier on the Western Front. One summer's day, after he saw every comrade in his platoon wiped out, he collapsed with "shell shock." Unlike most victims, he pulled himself together and soon returned to the trenches. But several times after the war, when faced by small crises, he completely lost his memory for a few hours.

On Sept. 1, when Hitler marched into Poland, Leonard Lockhart stumbled home, huddled by the gas fire with his wife, brooding over the horrors of war, over "boys on barbwire having their guts shot out." Then, half-drowned with reminiscent terror, he went to bed.

Next thing he knew, he woke in a strange hospital room, dimly lit by a blacked-out bed lamp. He shouted for his wife. A doctor came to his side. "Your wife," said he, '"is dead." Horrified, Dr. Lockhart broke into convulsive sobs. At first he could remember nothing of the previous evening, but later, he dimly recalled his wife's body, "very cold and limp" in his arms.

Early on the morning of Sept. 2, Dr. Lockhart's manservant had gone to the door, had found a sign reading: "Keep out; gas (study). Fetch police." In the study, near the open gas jet of the fireplace, lay Mrs. Lockhart's dead body. Close by lay Dr. Lockhart, unconscious and half-asphyxiated. He was charged with murder.

Last November at Nottingham Assizes began the trial of Rex v. Lockhart. Whether the Lockharts had made a suicide pact, or whether the doctor had first killed his wife, the prosecution could not prove. According to English law, he was a murderer in either case. But what the jury wanted to learn was whether Dr. Lockhart was insane or not. He could not remember the event, but he had written a coherent note of warning, which seemed to indicate that he knew what he was doing.

Called to the witness stand were such prominent friends of Dr. Lockhart as Professor Millais Culpin of the University of London, Psychiatrist John Rawlings Rees of London's Tavistock Clinic, Lord Dawson of Penn (King George V's physician). All agreed that Dr. Lockhart was suffering from a "fugue" or flight from reality, brought on by intense fear of a new war. His ordinary stream of consciousness was "suspended," his higher and lower brain levels "dissociated." Hence he had no understanding of the "nature and quality of his act." When his brief gust of abnormal activity had passed, he completely forgot what he had done. Most likely, he would get such "storms" again.

After three days of hearing expert testimony, the jury last November adjourned for 20 minutes. Their verdict: "Guilty but insane." Dr. Lockhart was promptly removed to an asylum, there to ponder his unhappy lot "until His Majesty's pleasure be known." The trial of Rex v. Lockhart stirred doctors from one end of Britain to the other. Last week pages of the British medical journals were still crowded with excited comment. His sad case kindled these questions in every doctor's mind: What are "war neuroses?" How can they be prevented, how treated?

Shell Shock. Most psychiatrists believe that a large number of the men who break down in battle would also have broken down in civil crises. But many admit that thousands of normal, healthy men have been driven mad by the horrors of war. Greatest puzzle of all are the men who, like Dr. Lockhart, go bravely to battle, but break down in civil life many years later.

The old phrase "shell shock" denoted any kind of war madness which was presumably brought on by detonation of shells. But by 1922 doctors decided that the term was a misnomer. For men behind the lines, and even many who stayed at home, often had the same mental breakdown as those under bombardment. Psychiatrists now divide war madness into two main classes: 1) anxiety neuroses; 2) hysteria.

Anxiety and Fear. Anxiety neurosis is maddening fear, shown in shuddering, sweating, screaming, crying. It is often successfully treated with rest, warm drinks, soothing words.

Great psychiatric problem of military men is hysteria. A hysteric is a man afflicted with symptoms, but no disease. No fakers, hysterics suffer as much as if they were victims of true, organic illness. Cause of hysteria: fear, or "fear of fear." Common forms: "heart trouble," "paralysis," "blindness," "deafness," "dumbness," or complete stupor.

Today most British doctors agree that, for quick results, the only way to treat hysterics is to put them to bed, talk sympathetically to them, explaining the reason for their fugue and making it clear that their fear is not contemptible.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.