Starship Troopers By: Robert A. Heinlein Pages 51-52 …Ted Hendrick asked, “Sergeant? I guess this knife throwing is fun…but why do we have to learn it. What possible use is it?” “Well,” answered Zim, “suppose all you have is a knife? Or maybe not even a knife? What do you do? Just say your prayers and die? Or wade in and make him buy it anyhow? Son this is real-it’s not a checker game you can concede if you find yourself too far behind.” “But that’s just what I mean, sir. Suppose you aren’t armed at all? Or just one of these toadstickers, say? And the man you’re up against has all sorts of dangerous weapons? There’s nothing you can do about it; he’s got you licked on showdown.” Zim said almost gently, “You’ve got it all wrong, son. There’s no such things as a ‘dangerous weapon’” “Huh? Sir?” “There are no dangerous weapons; there are only dangerous men. We’re trying to teach you to be dangerous-to the enemy. Dangerous even without a knife. Deadly as long as you still have one hand or one foot and are still alive. If you don’t know what I mean, go read ‘Horatius at the Bridge’ or ‘The Death of the Bon Homme Richard’; they’re both in the Camp library. But take the case you first mentioned; I’m you and all you have is a knife. That target behind me-the one you’ve been missing, number three-is a sentry, armed with everything but an H-bomb. You’ve got to get him…quietly, at once, and without letting him call for help.” Zim turned slightly-thunk!- a knife he hadn’t even had in his hand was quivering in the center of target number three. “You see? Better to carry two knives-but get him you must, even barehanded. “Uh-” “Something still troubling you? Speak up. That’s what I’m here for, to answer questions.” “Uh, yes, sir. You said the sentry didn’t have any H-bomb. But he does have an H-bomb; that’s just the point. Well, at least we have, if we’re the sentry…and any sentry we’re up against is likely to have them, too. I don’t mean the sentry, I mean the side he’s on.” “I understood you.” “Well…you see, sir? If we can use an H-bomb-and, as you said, it’s no checker game; it’s real, it’s war and nobody is fooling around- isn’t it sort of ridiculous to go crawling around in the weeds, throwing knives and maybe getting yourself killed…and even losing the war…when you’ve got a real weapon you can use to win? What’s the point in a whole lot of men risking their lives with obsolete weapons when one professor type can do so much more just by pushing a button?” Zim didn’t answer at once, which wasn’t like him at all. Then he said softly, “Are you happy in the Infantry, Hendrick? You can resign, you know.” Hendrick muttered something; Zim said, “Speak up!” “I’m not itching to resign, sir. I’m going to sweat out my term.” “I see. Well, the question you asked is one that a sergeant isn’t really qualified to answer…and one that you shouldn’t ask me. You’re supposed to know the answer before you join up. Or you should. Did your school have a course in History and Moral Philosophy?” “What? Sure-yes, sir.” “Then you’ve already heard the answer. But I’ll give you my own-unofficial- views on it. If you wanted to teach a baby a lesson, would you cut its head off?” “Why…no, sir!” “Of course not. You’d paddle it. There can be circumstances when it’s just as foolish to hit an enemy city with an H-bomb as it would be to spank a baby with an ax. War is not violence and killing, pure and simple; war is controlled violence, for a purpose. The purpose of war is to support your government’s decisions by force. The purpose is never to kill the enemy just to be killing him…but to make him do what you want him to do. Not killing…but controlled and purposeful violence. But it’s not your business or mine to decide the purpose of the control. It’s never a soldier’s business to decide when or where or how-or why-he fights; that belongs to the statesmen and the generals. The statesmen decides why and how much; the generals take it from there and tell us where and when and how. We supply the violence; other people-‘older and wiser heads,’ as they say-supply the control. Which is as it should be. That’s the best answer I can give you. If it doesn’t satisfy you, I’ll get you a chit to go talk to the regimental commander. If he can’t convince you-then go home and be a civilian! Because in that case you will certainly never make a soldier.”