The Unpopular History of the United States by Uncle Sam Himself/Chapter 26
XXVI
THE WORK OF WARSMITHS
Thousands of years ago every able-bodied man was naturally a soldier; now he is not, not by a jugful. When primeval men contended amongst themselves, they used the same weapons with which they fought the beasts—the stone ax, and the club, which fitted easily to their hands. In their tribal conflicts any group of men, however hastily assembled, constituted an army, employing the same simple weapons and requiring no discipline or tactics. Through the evolutionary processes of time, special weapons were devised by men for use against men. As these implements became more and more elaborate, they necessitated a greater and greater education in their use. War has now evolved into a science, most complex, many-sided, and embracing practically all the other sciences. As instruments of warfare become more and more intricate, volunteer forces become less and less efficient.
In this complicated and highly specialized modern warfare, it requires a regular army of seasoned and disciplined troops to defend our country. In the tribal ages there were no standing armies and no peace; every male was a soldier, to be called upon at any moment, waiting with weapons ready. The entire nation stood always in martial array. When gunpowder was invented, war was becoming a profession, and men must be especially educated for it. A small fraction of the male population was then set aside for soldiers, leaving merchants, artisans and farmers to pursue the arts of peace. Commerce flourished, universities sprang up, and civilization throbbed at the pulses of the world.
To-day, with the submarine, the aeroplane, huge cannon, abstruse mathematical calculations of range, electrical appliances, scientific explosives — the thousand and one inventions now adapted to the trade of war — to-day it is quite inconceivable for a raw recruit to be of the slightest service. We must have men who know exactly what they are doing, else our republic passes into ancient history with the graves of Greece and the ruins of fallen Rome.
Yet, in spite of this, some residue of prejudice yet remains against a powerful standing army, it being feared as a tool that might be used by selfish ambition. In the old countries standing armies originally flaunted the banners of great feudal houses — Bourbon, Hohenzollern, Romanoff, Hapsburg. But the free soldiers of a Republic, fathers, brothers, sons of the people, created by the people and responsible to the people — such an army in a pure democracy must prove the bulwark, the safeguard, and not a menace to the state.
All these considerations, and a blamed sight more, kept buzzing around in my head, and absolutely convinced me that our old come-and-go-as-you-please volunteer militia wouldn't do. The shamefullest crime is against the boys themselves — putting them up to be shot down without a chance. Suppose you run over some day and see those youngsters drilling at Fort Myer. The eternal sunshine never lighted up a finer lot of faces, frank of soul, clean of heart and stout of limb. You can't chuck a brick bat in that crowd anywhere and hit a boy that you wouldn't trust. They are good boys, they are my boys, and by the grace o' God I'm going to give 'em a chance. If I do my part, they'll do the rest. And the best way to fix that is by the Selective Draft — we've got it on the statute books right now. But we also have in these United States a system of Selective Obedience. Folks pick out the law they like and obey that. I'm telling them why I passed the Selective Draft so they'll understand it, so they'll like it, so they'll get behind it and push. You see it makes every fellow equal, treats 'em all just alike. The rich man and the poor man stand side by side, each of them doing a man's bit. That's good solid American doctrine; it goes way back to Magna Charta, and is the very idea we are fighting for. Not long ago a young French officer explained to me that universal military service is the very essence of democracy. The prince and the peasant rub shoulders in the ranks. The millionaire and the milkman perform the same duties. Wealth, power, political or social position — nothing can excuse the slacker. Each must serve his turn, each must do his bit. The very essence of democracy, yes; the prince comes to realize that the peasant lad is a pretty stalwart sort; while the milkman revises his prejudices concerning the millionaire, who endures every hardship and faces every peril without complaint. This democracy of ditch digging, this fraternalism of the firing line, has glorified the spirit of a rejuvenated France. Nobody believed that France could fight as she has done, fought at the first a dogged retreating, step by step — then forward with a rush and her old-time spirit. Observant men assert that the leveling of ranks has done it.
That's just the way our folks in the country like to feel about the public service and I want 'em to know. Believe me, I trust my folks — when they know.