Your link did not fully cover the content. Quotes from the speeches : 'The SAS is facing a recruitment crisis because soldiers are too overstretched to apply to join the elite regiment', an army commander warned; Head of Infantry Brigadier Richard Dennis said 'the unrelentingly demanding operations in Afghanistan were combining to mitigate against Special Forces recruitment'. He had deep concerns that urgent action was needed to improve the 'strength and quality' of recruits. Former SAS man Robin Horsfall told the BBC that the regiment no longer had the same appeal. Having been on the battlefront it's less alluring for soldiers to want to go into a more dangerous situation with Special Forces because they know what battle really is'.
If you can read between the line of your link you will recognise the same theme emerging.
I believe that your message diminishes the importance of our armed(and associated) services as a vocation for heroes; and that is a preliminary to chaos IMHO. And none of those other jobs demand that you put your life on the line every day, that is the key difference.
I come from the post WW11 era of conscription ; and that was not a pretty matter - five and a half years interruption of the most formative years of education and career launch - 18 - 23.
Dwell on this -' Our Armed Forces are no longer an attraction to young men as a vocation, prepared to offer their lives daily for a mere pittance, so conscription is necessary.
Mr MontyB - you have struck us a bit of a James Bond character - report to your local barracks at 9.00 am on Monday next with your trousers folded neatly over one arm - bomb-disposal for you my lad. You've talked the talk, now's your chance, everyone's a hero you know.'
Lovely Jubbly! :cheers: Stop nuking everywhere now, bomb disposal for you. We luv ya- we're all right BEHIND you remember.
TOMMY
by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.
You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!