On May 12, 1962, Gen. Douglas MacArthur
delivered the following speech at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point,
N.Y.
"No human being could fail to be deeply moved by
such a tribute as this, coming from a profession I have served so long and a
people I have loved so well. It fills me with an emotion I cannot express. But
this award is not intended primarily for a personality, but to symbolize a great
moral code the code of conduct and chivalry of those who guard this beloved land
of culture and ancient descent.
"Duty," "honor,"
"country" those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you want
to be, what you can be, what you will be. They are your rallying point to build
courage when courage seems to fail, to regain faith when there seems to be
little cause for faith, to create hope when hope becomes forlorn.
Unhappily,
I possess neither that eloquence of diction, that poetry of imagination, nor
that brilliance of metaphor to tell you all that they mean.
The unbelievers will say they are but words, but a
slogan, but a flamboyant phrase. Every pedant, every demagogue, every cynic,
every hypocrite, every troublemaker, and, I am sorry to say, some others of an
entirely different character, will try to downgrade them even to the extent of
mockery and ridicule.
But these are some of the things they build. They
build your basic character. They mold you for your future roles as the
custodians of the nation´s defense. They make you strong enough to know when
you are weak, and brave enough to face yourself when you are afraid.
They teach you to be proud and unbending in honest
failure, but humble and gentle in success; not to substitute words for action;
not to seek the path of comfort, but to face the stress and spur of difficulty
and challenge; to learn to stand up in the storm, but to have compassion on
those who fall; to master yourself before you seek to master others; to have a
heart that is clean, a goal that is high; to learn to laugh, yet never forget
how to weep; to reach into the future, yet never neglect the past; to be
serious, yet never take yourself too seriously; to be modest so that you will
remember the simplicity of true greatness; the open mind of true wisdom, the
meekness of true strength.
They give you a temperate will, a quality of
imagination, a vigor of the emotions, a freshness of the deep springs of life, a
temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, an appetite for adventure
over love of ease.
They create in your heart the sense of wonder, the
unfailing hope of what next, and the joy and inspiration of life. They teach you
in this way to be an officer and a gentleman.
And what sort of soldiers are those you are to
lead? Are they reliable? Are they brave? Are they capable of victory?
Their story is known to all of you. It is the
story of the American man at arms. My estimate of him was formed on the
battlefields many, many years ago, and has never changed. I regarded him then,
as I regard him now, as one of the world´s noblest figures; not only as one of
the finest military characters, but also as one of the most stainless.
His name and fame are the birthright of every
American citizen. In his youth and strength, his love and loyalty, he gave all
that mortality can give. He needs no eulogy from me, or from any other man. He
has written his own history and written it in red on his enemy´s breast.
In
20 campaigns, on a hundred battlefields, around a thousand campfires, I have
witnessed that enduring fortitude, that patriotic self-abnegation, and that
invincible determination which have carved his statue in the hearts of his
people.
From one end of the world to the other, he has
drained deep the chalice of courage. As I listened to those songs in memory´s
eye I could see those staggering columns of the First World War, bending under
soggy packs on many a weary march, from dripping dusk to drizzling dawn,
slogging ankle deep through mire of shell-pocked roads; to form grimly for the
attack, blue-lipped, covered with sludge and mud, chilled by the wind and rain,
driving home to their objective, and for many, to the judgment seat of God.
I do not know the dignity of their birth, but I do
know the glory of their death. They died unquestioning, uncomplaining, with
faith in their hearts, and on their lips the hope that we would go on to
victory.
Always for them: duty, honor, country. Always
their blood, and sweat, and tears, as they saw the way and the light. And 20
years after, on the other side of the globe, against the filth of dirty
foxholes, the stench of ghostly trenches, the slime of dripping dugouts, those
boiling suns of the relentless heat, those torrential rains of devastating
storms, the loneliness and utter desolation of jungle trails, the bitterness of
long separation of those they loved and cherished, the deadly pestilence of
tropic disease, the horror of stricken areas of war.
Their
resolute and determined defense, their swift and sure attack, their indomitable
purpose, their complete and decisive victory always victory, always through the
bloody haze of their last reverberating shot, the vision of gaunt, ghastly men,
reverently following your password of duty, honor, country.
You now face a new world, a world of change. The
thrust into outer space of the satellite spheres and missiles marks a beginning
of another epoch in the long story of mankind. In the five or more billions of
years the scientists tell us it has taken to form the earth, in the three or
more billion years of development of the human race, there has never been a more
abrupt or staggering evolution.
We deal now, not with things of this world alone,
but with the illimitable distances and yet unfathomed mysteries of the universe.
We are reaching out for a new and boundless frontier. We speak in strange terms
of harnessing the cosmic energy, of making winds and tides work for us; of the
primary target in war, no longer limited to the armed forces of an enemy, but
instead to include his civil population; of ultimate conflict between a united
human race and the sinister forces of some other planetary galaxy; such dreams
and fantasies as to make life the most exciting of all times.
And through all this welter of change and
development your mission remains fixed, determined, inviolable. It is to win our
wars. Everything else in your professional career is but corollary to this vital
dedication. All other public purpose, all other public projects, all other
public needs, great or small, will find others for their accomplishments; but
you are the ones who are trained to fight.
Yours is the profession of arms, the will to win,
the sure knowledge that in war there is no substitute for victory, that if you
lose, the Nation will be destroyed, that the very obsession of your public
service must be duty, honor, country.
Others will debate the controversial issues,
national and international, which divide men's minds. But serene, calm, aloof,
you stand as the Nation's war guardians, as its lifeguards from the raging tides
of international conflict, as its gladiators in the arena of battle. For a
century and a half you have defended, guarded and protected its hallowed
traditions of liberty and freedom, of right and justice.
Let civilian voices argue the merits or demerits
of our processes of government: Whether our strength is being sapped by deficit
financing indulged in too long, by federal paternalism grown too mighty, by
power groups grown too arrogant, by politics grown too corrupt, by crime grown
too rampant, by morals grown too low, by taxes grown too high, by extremists
grown too violent; whether our personal liberties are as firm and complete as
they should be.
These
great national problems are not for your professional participation or military
solution. Your guidepost stands out like a tenfold beacon in the night: duty,
honor, country.
You are the leaven which binds together the entire
fabric of our national system of defense. From your ranks come the great
captains who hold the Nation's destiny in their hands the moment the war tocsin
sounds.
The long gray line has never failed us. Were you
to do so, a million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki, in blue and gray,
would rise from their white crosses, thundering those magic words: duty, honor,
country.
This does not mean that you are warmongers. On the
contrary, the soldier above all other people prays for peace, for he must suffer
and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war. But always in our ears ring the
ominous words of Plato, that wisest of all philosophers: "Only the dead
have seen the end of war."
The shadows are lengthening for me. The twilight
is here. My days of old have vanished tone and tints. They have gone glimmering
through the dreams of things that were. Their memory is one of wonderous beauty,
watered by tears and coaxed and caressed by the smiles of yesterday. I listen
then, but with thirsty ear, for the witching melody of faint bugles blowing
reveille, of far drums beating the long roll.
In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the
rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield. But in the
evening of my memory I come back to West Point. Always there echoes and
re-echoes: duty, honor, country.
Today marks my final roll call with you. But I
want you to know that when I cross the river, my last conscious thoughts will be
of the corps, and the corps, and the corps.
I bid you farewell."
Five Star General MacArthur 1880-1964 General MacArthur' died less than two years after giving this speech on 5 April 1964 , when he died in Washington, D.C., at the age of 84.
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