If A Man Does His Best, What

In The Space Of Two Days I Had Evolved Two Plans, Wholly Distinct, Both Of Which Were Equally Feasible. The Point I Am Trying To Bring Out Is That One Does Not Plan And Then Try To Make Circumstances Fit Those Plans. One Tries To Make Plans Fit The Circumstances.

All Of The Real Heroes Are Not Storybook Combat Fighters Either. Every Single Man In This Army Plays A Vital Role. Don T Ever Let Up. Don T Ever Think That Your Job Is Unimportant. Every Man Has A Job To Do And He Must Do It. Every Man Is A Vital Link In The Great Chain.

No Good Decision Was Ever Made In A Swivel Chair.

Why Is It That All Battles Are Fought In The Middle Of The Night, In Downpouring Rain, And At The Corners Of Four Different Maps?

For Over A Thousand Years Roman Conquerors Returning From The Wars Enjoyed The Honor Of Triumph, A Tumultuous Parade. In The Procession Came Trumpeteers, Musicians And Strange Animals From Conquered Territories, Together With Carts Laden With Treasure And Captured Armaments. The Conquerors Rode In A Triumphal Chariot, The Dazed Prisoners Walking In Chains Before Him. Sometimes His Children Robed In White Stood With Him In The Chariot Or Rode The Trace Horses. A Slave Stood Behind The Conqueror Holding A Golden Crown And Whispering In His Ear A Warning: That All Glory Is Fleeting.