(Bob Beattie is the soldier in glasses) Men may argue forever on what wins their wars, And welter in cons and And seek for their answer at history's doors, But the man with the rifle knows. He must stand on the ground on his own two feet, And he's never in doubt when it's won, If it's won he's there; if he's not, it's defeat, That's his test, when the fighting is done. When he carries the fight, it's not with a roar Of armoured wings spitting death. It's creep and crawl on the earthen floor, Butt down and holding his breath. Saving his strength for the last low rush, Grenade thrown and bayonet thrust; And the whispered prayer, before he goes in, Of a man who does what he must.. And when he's attacked, he can't zoom away, When the shells fill the world with their sound, He stays where he is, loosens his spade, And digs his defence in the ground. That ground isn't ours till he's there in the flesh, Not a gadget or bomb but a man. He's the answer in theories which start afresh, With each peace since war began. So let the wild circle of argument rage On what wins, as war comes and goes. Many new theories may hold the stage But the man with the rifle knows. Back to Table of Contents -- Wargamer's Newsletter # 99 To Wargamer's Newsletter List of Issues To MagWeb Master Magazine List © Copyright 1970 by Donald Featherstone. This article appears in MagWeb.com (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other articles from military history and related magazines are available at http://www.magweb.com