Magnificent young men are ready to die for us, but that doesn’t mean we should let them

I’m in Dallas, Texas, for a Heritage Foundation conference when who should march into my hotel but a battalion of US marines, ahead of their deployment to Afghanistan.

I’m in Dallas, Texas, for a Heritage Foundation conference when who should march into my hotel but a battalion of US marines, ahead of their deployment to Afghanistan. I watch, agog. The marines all look desperately young, even the ones who’ve done several tours of duty. Interestingly, though they all must have bonded intensely in the field, off duty they still socialise by ethnic group — blacks with blacks, Hispanics with Hispanics, and so on.

Later, I ambush a senior NCO and a rookie smoking in the garden. ‘Can I ask you a question?’ ‘Yes, sir!’ says the NCO. (They’re achingly polite and respectful, the US military.) ‘When you’re in the field, how many of you smoke?’ ‘Pretty much all of us, sir.’ ‘But doesn’t it interfere with your fitness?’ ‘No, sir.