And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
Shakespeare’s St. Crispin’s Day speech from Henry V is one of the most iconic speeches ever given. It, perhaps better so than any work save the Illiad, captures what it is like to be a fighting man (or woman).
It’s refrain about a “band of brothers” has been repeated and echoed countless times: Eisenhower’s “in company with brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts” on D-Day, HBO’s mini-series of the same name, and in countless addresses by senior leaders to their formations prior to crossing the berm in Iraq.
The idea of soldiers as brothers-in-arms – of the fraternity of arms – goes back well before Shakespeare to the feudal era and possibly even earlier. The concept of shared struggle, and thus equality, is essential to the concept of American soldiering and always has been.
And yet, under multiple well-meaning commanders in both active and reserve component, I have been instructed to treat my soldiers as my children. Not as my brothers or my sisters, but my children. As a troop commander, I once argued the point with my squadron commander that my soldiers were not my sons and was told “you know what I mean” – and I did.
And what he meant was wrong.
An Army Special Forces member fires a Mark 19 belt-fed grenade launcher at a training target on Eglin Range, Fla., Oct. 30, 2013.
U.S. Air Force
Photo/Staff Sgt. John Bainter.