That was clear enough. Surprisingly poetic for a military man, but clear.
“Could you be a bit more specific?” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster.
“I’m referring to your possible marriage to Queen Hemlock, of course,” he said. “Or, more specifically, your difficulty in making up your mind. You’re agonizing over the decision, when it’s obvious to the most casual observer that you don’t want to marry her.”
“There are bigger issues at stake here than what I want, General,” I said wearily.
“Bullshit,” Badaxe said firmly.
“What?”
“I said ‘Bullshit,’ “ the General repeated, “and I meant it. What you want is the only issue worth considering.”
I found myself smiling in spite of my depression.
“Excuse me, General, but isn’t that a little strange coming from you?”
“How so?”
“Well, as a soldier, you’ve devoted your life to the rigors of training and combat. The whole military system is based on self-sacrifice and self-denial, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” Badaxe said. “Has it occurred to you, though, that it’s simply a means to an end? The whole idea of being prepared for combat is to be able to defend or exert what you want against what someone else wants.”
I sat up straight.
“I never thought of it that way.”
“It’s the only way to think of it,” the General said, firmly. “Oh, I know a lot of people see a soldier’s life as being subservient. That it’s the role of a mindless robot subject to the nonsensical orders and whims of his superior officers . . . including Generals. The fact is that an army has to be united in purpose, or it’s ineffectual. Each man in it voluntarily agrees to follow the chain of command because it’s the most effective way to achieve a common goal. A soldier who doesn’t know what he wants or why he’s fighting is worthless. Even worse, he’s a danger to anyone and everyone who’s counting on him.”