High in the White Mountains, the routes are shaped by terrain, not design. Old tracks, stone paths, and working ground link ridge to valley, tested by gradient, surface, and exposure. Every line is ridden, checked, and recorded as it is found.
There is a great deal in this speech that I agree with. We need to learn from Ukraine. We need faster procurement, greater use of new technology, better access for smaller companies and a system capable of getting equipment into the hands of soldiers quickly.
But there are also a great many buzzwords and buzz sentences here: “new technology, new thinking, new weapons”, “whole of society endeavour”, “driving change at speed”, “re-industrialisation”, “finding, funding and firing up”, and, of course, “war-fighting readiness”.
The difficulty is that behind those words sits a much more fundamental problem.
We should never have reached the position our Armed Forces are in today.
Only days ago it was reported that the British Army had been forced to stop or restrict a range of collective training because of an immediate shortage of money. This reportedly includes live-fire tank training and exercises involving Challenger 2 and Apache, while some larger exercises have also been curtailed. Deploying units and certain NATO commitments are being protected, but other training is being sacrificed. Reservist training has also been affected.
The issue is not that the Army suddenly decided this training was unnecessary. It is the cost of conducting it: fuel, ammunition and the other day-to-day expenditure required to put troops and equipment into the field.
That should concern us far more than many of the fashionable phrases surrounding defence transformation.
You cannot create a war-fighting Army simply by buying drones, AI systems and clever technology. An Army has to train collectively.
Sections, platoons, companies, battlegroups and formations have to exercise together. Armour has to work with infantry, artillery, aviation, engineers, logistics, intelligence and communications. Commanders and headquarters have to practise controlling those formations. Soldiers have to fire live ammunition. Vehicles have to move. Equipment has to break and soldiers have to learn how to keep fighting when it does.
Ukraine reinforces that lesson; it does not replace it.
That is why there is an uncomfortable contradiction in saying:
“If our technology and kit will not work in Ukraine, I do not want it in our armed forces.”
while at the same time restricting some of the very training necessary to establish whether our people, equipment, command structures and combined-arms procedures actually work under realistic conditions.
Nor did we arrive here overnight.
For decades, successive governments have reduced the size and capacity of the Armed Forces. Since the end of the Cold War, we have repeatedly accepted the proposition that smaller forces could compensate through technology, greater efficiency, expeditionary capability and our alliances
Eventually, however, mass matters
Technology matters enormously. Ukraine has demonstrated that beyond argument. Drones, electronic warfare, autonomous systems, communications and rapidly adaptable software are changing warfare. Procurement reform is long overdue, and smaller innovative companies should have much easier access to Defence
But none of those things substitutes for trained manpower, ammunition, spares, serviceable equipment, collective training, deployable formations and sufficient money actually to operate them
That is where I have difficulty with the rhetoric in this speech
The Government talks about increasing defence expenditure, rebuilding ammunition stocks, improving readiness and preparing the country to deter and, if necessary, fight a major war. At the same time the Army is having to restrict significant collective training because it cannot afford the immediate running costs
The Minister finishes saying:
“But if deterrence fails, we must be ready to fight, and we must be ready to win.”
I agree completely
But being ready to fight is not a slogan being ready to win is not a procurement strategy.
It is a military capability
And that capability has to exist before deterrence fails
Really think there needs to be an independent review into extent to which police are mis-policing speech, to the detriment of our democratic rights. Undertaken by a former judge or similar. A raft of egs of police infringing our rights is undermining confidence in the police.
@CultureExploreX Thank you. I really appreciate your response and your willingness to reconsider the article's accessibility.
I look forward to reading the full article, and I wish you every success with The Culture Explorer.
@ProudofusUK An interesting piece of history. Unfortunately, my own experience of the Co-op was rather different. In the 1970s, the Co-operative Bank refused to let me open an account because I was serving in the British Army. I have never used the Co-op since, and never will.
People should be free to form and express their own opinions, however unpopular or controversial those opinions may be. It is not the role of government to determine what is true, what is false, or what citizens should believe. Once the state assumes the authority to decide what constitutes misinformation in matters of lawful public debate, it begins to influence the range of opinions that people are encouraged to hear. That is a power no democratic government should possess, because every government has its own political interests. History shows that powers acquired for good intentions can later be expanded or abused. For that reason, no government should be entrusted with the authority to determine the truth of lawful public discourse.
A strong speech and one that demonstrates a genuine understanding of military culture, particularly the importance of people, standards, and the role of NCOs and Warrant Officers.
However, soldiers and veterans have heard many good speeches over the years. Fine words alone do not generate combat power.
Modernisation, mass, retention, training, stockpiles, and readiness all require sustained funding. Without that, they remain aspirations rather than capabilities.
The recent resignations of both John Healey and Al Carns over defence funding raise serious questions about whether the resources available will match the ambitions set out in this speech.
The men and women of our Armed Forces deserve more than rhetoric. They deserve the manpower, equipment, ammunition, and long-term investment necessary to do the job the nation asks of them.
In the military, capability is measured not in speeches, but in trained people, serviceable equipment, full establishments, and units that are ready to fight tonight.
As a veteran, and having guided several battlefield studies of the Battle of Crete this year, I found this particularly interesting. Indeed, I have just returned home after guiding an E-MTB battlefield study across the ground fought over during the first three days of the battle.
One lesson repeatedly reinforced during battlefield studies is that terrain leaves a lasting impression on those who fight upon it. Long after the tactical details have faded, soldiers often remember mud, exhaustion, weather, fear, comradeship, and the physical burden of moving across difficult ground.
Tolkien experienced this on the Somme. He witnessed industrialised warfare at first hand, lost close friends, and endured the physical and psychological strain familiar to generations of soldiers. It is therefore unsurprising that aspects of those experiences found their way into Middle-earth.
Tolkien himself rejected the notion that The Lord of the Rings was a straightforward allegory of the Great War. Nevertheless, he acknowledged that the Dead Marshes owed something to his experiences in Northern France. More importantly, the qualities embodied by Sam Gamgee—loyalty, endurance, duty, and quiet courage—were, in Tolkien's own words, drawn from the ordinary British soldiers he knew during the war.
Walking or riding historic battlefields today, whether on the Somme or in Crete, one quickly appreciates how ground shapes human experience. The men who fought on Hill 107, around Tavronitis and Maleme, and during the withdrawal to Sfakia faced many of the same timeless realities as Tolkien and his contemporaries: fatigue, uncertainty, loss, dependence upon comrades, and the determination simply to continue.
This, perhaps, is why Tolkien's work continues to resonate so strongly with veterans. The setting may be mythical, but the human experience is entirely real.
For anyone wishing to explore the subject in greater depth, John Garth's Tolkien and the Great War: The Threshold of Middle-earth remains the definitive scholarly study.
Greene is a good example of why military history cannot be reduced to battlefield wins and losses. Tactically, he lost several major engagements, but strategically he achieved his objective by making British control of the Carolinas increasingly costly and ultimately unsustainable. The campaign is a reminder that winning battles and winning wars are not always the same thing.
An interesting post and a significant episode in naval history, though perhaps one that benefits from a little additional context.
The capture of the Algerian flagship Meshuda by Commodore Stephen Decatur in June 1815 was undoubtedly a major American victory. It resulted in the death of the celebrated Algerian corsair commander Rais Hamidou, the capture of Algiers' most powerful warship, the release of American prisoners, and an end to American tribute payments to Algiers.
The importance of Meshuda's capture should not be underestimated. Decatur's ability to sail before Algiers and dictate terms was made possible by the destruction of the Dey's naval power at sea. By capturing the flagship and killing Hamidou, Decatur removed Algiers' principal naval means of resistance and deprived it of its most experienced naval commander. The treaty that followed was, in many respects, the political consequence of a decisive military victory already achieved at sea.
There is a broader historical parallel here. In naval warfare, the decisive moment is often not the signing of a treaty or the surrender in harbour, but the earlier loss of a fleet, a flagship, or a key commander that makes further resistance impractical. The capture of Meshuda was arguably that decisive moment in the 1815 campaign.
However, it is worth noting that the campaign did not by itself bring an end to the Barbary corsair system. Corsair activity continued after Decatur's victory. The Anglo-Dutch bombardment of Algiers in 1816 under Admiral Lord Exmouth imposed further concessions on the Dey, and the final destruction of the Barbary States as independent corsair powers came only with the French conquest of Algeria in 1830.
What makes Decatur's achievement particularly important is not simply that he defeated a corsair fleet, but what the victory represented in the development of the United States Navy.
At independence in 1783, the United States found itself in a difficult position. American merchant shipping no longer enjoyed the protection of the Royal Navy and was exposed to capture in the Mediterranean. The young republic lacked both the resources and naval strength to challenge the Barbary States directly. Tribute payments were made not because the Americans approved of the system, but because they lacked the means to resist it.
Over the next three decades that situation changed dramatically.
The United States built a professional navy, commissioned a new generation of heavy frigates, fought the Quasi-War with France, conducted the First Barbary War against Tripoli, and then tested itself again during the War of 1812.
During this period the Navy produced a remarkable generation of officers, including Isaac Hull, Oliver Hazard Perry and Stephen Decatur, whose wartime successes helped establish the reputation of the young service.
By 1815, therefore, Decatur was not commanding the small and uncertain navy of the 1780s. He was leading a force that had been tested in war against France, the Barbary States, and Britain; commanded by experienced officers; and supported by a nation increasingly willing to protect its interests overseas.
For that reason, I think the lasting significance of the capture of Meshuda is less that it "ended piracy" and more that it demonstrated how far the United States Navy had progressed since independence. A nation that had once paid tribute because it lacked naval power was now capable of crossing the Atlantic, defeating its opponent's flagship, and negotiating from a position of strength.
Decatur's victory did not, by itself, end the Barbary corsair system. However, it marked the point at which the United States ceased to be a nation seeking protection from maritime threats and demonstrated that it had become a naval power capable of protecting its own interests abroad.
That is an important achievement in its own right and one that deserves recognition.
Thank you. I think "limitations of the time" is a much more precise description.
One reason these works endure is that the underlying principles often survive long after the societies that produced them have disappeared. Aristotle's observations on courage, friendship, self-discipline and practical wisdom still resonate because they address enduring aspects of human nature rather than the social structures of fourth-century BC Greece.
Thank you again for a thoughtful article. It has certainly encouraged me to revisit some of the books on your list.
Agreed. Wisdom is rarely found by only reading people who already agree with us.
One reason I enjoy reading ancient authors is that they often challenge assumptions we take for granted. Whether we ultimately agree with them or not, they force us to think more carefully about what we believe and why we believe it.
View Above Kefalás
From the track above Kefalás, the landscape of the northern Apokoronas unfolds below. The village sits beneath the viewpoint, its houses spread across the hillside before the ground falls away towards the coast. Beyond, Almyrida and the waters of Souda Bay come into view, while the distinctive flat-topped profile of Drapanokefala rises on the horizon.
This is a landscape shaped by geography. The higher ground provided security, the surrounding hills supported agriculture, and the nearby coast offered access to trade and communication. Many of the settlements visible from this point were already established when they were recorded in the Egyptian census of 1834.
The viewpoint provides an excellent perspective on the relationship between village, farmland and coastline that has influenced life in the Apokoronas for centuries. Looking across the ground from here, it is possible to see how closely the development of local communities was tied to water, cultivable land and the natural routes through the surrounding hills.
For riders, it is one of those places where the climb is briefly forgotten and attention shifts to the wider landscape stretching from the villages below to the sea beyond.