MacArthur

1

As I was leaving

my hotel this morning,

the doorman asked me,

"Where are you

bound for, sir?"

When I replied, "West Point,"

he remarked,

"It's a beautiful place.

"Have you ever

been there before?"

Duty, honor, country.

Those three hallowed words reverently

dictate what you ought to be,

what you can be,

and what you will be.

They are your rallying points.

They give you

a temper of the will,

a quality of the 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.

In this way, they will

teach you to be an officer

and a gentleman.

From your ranks come the

great captains who will 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 and 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 minds ring

the ominous words of Plato,

"Only the dead have

seen the end of war."

Heads up, soldiers!

Heads up!

Lieutenant?

Yes, sir?

Major Huff's got

himself wounded.

Would you look

after him, please?

Right away, sir. Corporal,

would you take this?

Major.

So, one of the Battling

Bastards of Bataan, eh?

Yes, sir. No mama,

no papa, no Uncle Sam.

Well, help is on the way.

I have Washington's

solemn promise on that.

General Marshall, Admiral King,

will you go right in, please?

Thank you.

You said you wanted to talk

over the Corregidor problem.

I certainly do. I've gone out

on a limb with the Filipinos.

We should be getting more than

inspirational radio messages

through the Japanese blockade.

Have any of our ships made it?

One ship has reached Mindanao,

two more made it to Cebu.

The rest were

either sunk or captured.

Thank you.

So far we've lost better

than 80,000 tons.

In other words, MacArthur has

received practically nothing.

That's about it,

Mr. President.

How long can they hold out?

Matter of weeks.

But we're still dispatching

submarines to Bataan and Corregidor.

We managed to land

some munitions and drugs,

and evacuate a few of the wounded,

but that's all we can do.

Unless you're one

to start stripping

the defenses of the West Coast,

the Panama Canal...

One bombing of the canal

and it's out of

action for two years.

It's a more vulnerable and important

target than Pearl Harbor.

And Hitler will have the whole North

American continent for a target

if we don't stop him in Europe.

Exactly.

But you know

what's going to happen.

Like everything else,

Douglas is going

to take our strategy personally.

He thinks the blockade is

a figment of my imagination,

and that I'm somehow deliberately

robbing him of glory.

I wish you people would send

Douglas a globe of the world

to remind him we have

obligations all around it.

We have to support Stalin while he

fights the bulk of the Nazi army.

We have to assist Churchill

to keep England functioning.

We have to protect our flanks,

the Panama Canal,

and General Douglas MacArthur.

I need him.

The country needs him.

We can't leave him

to the Japanese.

He won't leave the Philippines unless

you order him off, Mr. President.

Cut an order.

Put my name to it.

Double 5, O, 673D, L926...

So long, baby. That's 140

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