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An
M.
I.
lives
by
his
suit
the
way
a
K-9
man
lives
by
and
with
and
on
his
doggie
partner
.
Powered
armor
is
one-half
the
reason
we
call
ourselves
"
mobile
infantry
"
instead
of
just
"
infantry
.
"
(
The
other
half
are
the
spaceships
that
drop
us
and
the
capsules
we
drop
in
.
)
Our
suits
give
us
better
eyes
,
better
ears
,
stronger
backs
(
to
carry
heavier
weapons
and
more
ammo
)
,
better
legs
,
more
intelligence
(
"
intelligence
"
in
the
military
meaning
;
a
man
in
a
suit
can
be
just
as
stupid
as
anybody
else
only
he
had
better
not
be
)
,
more
firepower
,
greater
endurance
,
less
vulnerability
.
A
suit
is
n't
a
space
suit
--
although
it
can
serve
as
one
.
It
is
not
primarily
armor
--
although
the
Knights
of
the
Round
Table
were
not
armored
as
well
as
we
are
.
It
is
n't
a
tank
--
but
a
single
M.
I.
private
could
take
on
a
squadron
of
those
things
and
knock
them
off
unassisted
if
anybody
was
silly
enough
to
put
tanks
against
M.
I
.
A
suit
is
not
a
ship
but
it
can
fly
,
a
little
on
the
other
hand
neither
spaceships
nor
atmosphere
craft
can
fight
against
a
man
in
a
suit
except
by
saturation
bombing
of
the
area
he
is
in
(
like
burning
down
a
house
to
get
one
flea
!
)
.
Contrariwise
we
can
do
many
things
that
no
ship
--
air
,
submersible
,
or
space
--
can
do
.
"
There
are
a
dozen
different
ways
of
delivering
destruction
in
impersonal
wholesale
,
via
ships
and
missiles
of
one
sort
or
another
,
catastrophes
so
widespread
,
so
unselective
,
that
the
war
is
over
because
that
nation
or
planet
has
ceased
to
exist
.
What
we
do
is
entirely
different
.
We
make
war
as
personal
as
a
punch
in
the
nose
.
We
can
be
selective
,
applying
precisely
the
required
amount
of
pressure
at
the
specified
point
at
a
designated
time
--
we
've
never
been
told
to
go
down
and
kill
or
capture
all
left-handed
redheads
in
a
particular
area
,
but
if
they
tell
us
to
,
we
can
.
We
will
.
We
are
the
boys
who
go
to
a
particular
place
,
at
H-hour
,
occupy
a
designated
terrain
,
stand
on
it
,
dig
the
enemy
out
of
their
holes
,
force
them
then
and
there
to
surrender
or
die
.
We
're
the
bloody
infantry
,
the
doughboy
,
the
duckfoot
,
the
foot
soldier
who
goes
where
the
enemy
is
and
takes
him
on
in
person
.
We
've
been
doing
it
,
with
changes
in
weapons
but
very
little
change
in
our
trade
,
at
least
since
the
time
five
thousand
years
ago
when
the
foot
sloggers
of
Sargon
the
Great
forced
the
Sumerians
to
cry
"
Uncle
!
"
Maybe
they
'll
be
able
to
do
without
us
someday
.
Maybe
some
mad
genius
with
myopia
,
a
bulging
forehead
,
and
a
cybernetic
mind
will
devise
a
weapon
that
can
go
down
a
hole
,
pick
out
the
opposition
,
and
force
it
to
surrender
or
die
--
without
killing
that
gang
of
your
own
people
they
've
got
imprisoned
down
there
.
I
would
n't
know
;
I
'm
not
a
genius
,
I
'm
an
M.
I
.
In
the
meantime
,
until
they
build
a
machine
to
replace
us
,
my
mates
can
handle
that
job
and
I
might
be
some
help
on
it
,
too
.
Maybe
someday
they
'll
get
everything
nice
and
tidy
and
we
'll
have
that
thing
we
sing
about
,
when
"
we
ai
n't
a-gonna
study
war
no
more
.
"
Maybe
.
Maybe
the
same
day
the
leopard
will
take
off
his
spots
and
get
a
job
as
a
Jersey
cow
,
too
.
But
again
,
I
would
n't
know
;
I
am
not
a
professor
of
cosmo-politics
;
I
'm
an
M.
I
.
When
the
government
sends
me
,
I
go
.
In
between
,
I
catch
a
lot
of
sack
time
.
But
,
while
they
have
not
yet
built
a
machine
to
replace
us
,
they
've
surely
thought
up
some
honeys
to
help
us
.
The
suit
,
in
particular
.
No
need
to
describe
what
it
looks
like
,
since
it
has
been
pictured
so
often
.
Suited
up
,
you
look
like
a
big
steel
gorilla
,
armed
with
gorilla-sized
weapons
.
(
This
may
be
why
a
sergeant
generally
opens
his
remarks
with
"
You
apes
--
"
However
,
it
seems
more
likely
that
Caesar
's
sergeants
used
the
same
honorific
.
)
