*sigh* as my old mate Ben would have said:
Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Paul Routledge? We have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for the NHS, and you curse the military who bypass it. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what we know. That our friends' deaths, while tragic, probably saved lives. And our existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want us on that wall, you need us on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. We have neither the time nor the inclination to explain ourselves to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that we provide, and then questions the manner in which we provide it. We would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, we suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, we don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to.
****wit.