If you have a job to do, the time passes, but Grunts DO NOT have a job while on board, they are bored stiff. You can only run so many times in a circle on that flight deck or do P.T. in the hanger deck. The rest of the time is spent...WAITING FOR THE WORD.
What word? The word to go, the word to sleep, the word to wait, the word to eat, the word to make a head call...just waiting. Waiting can drive you nuts, especially when you know fighting is going on, and you aren't in it.
KING HENRY V
Gloucester: Where is the King?
Bedford: The King himself is rode to view their battle.
Westmoreland: Of fighting men, they have full three-score thousand.
Exeter: There’s five to one; besides, they all are fresh.
Salisbury: God’s arm strike with us! ‘Tis a fearful odds.
Westmoreland: O that we now had here but one ten thousand of those men in England that do no work to-day!
King Henry V: What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold;
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires;
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour,
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, throughout my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the Feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say, To-morrow is Saint Crispian:
Then he will strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say, These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words –-
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester -–
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember’d:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother, be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day!
Some may not consider this poetry .. as it's from a Shakespeare play .. but most any passage extracted from KING HENRY V contains some of the most blood-rousing words in the English language, particularly this one and the "Once more unto the breach"/Harfleur "half-time" speech.
It raises again the issue of whether there is any real value of fighting these people on their terms in their land. On our land on our terms, they are hardly a threat at all. Don't forget the WTC was done by educated Saudi's who trained or organized in Germany and the US and not by peopel who, for the most part, barely attain any education at all.
Actively angry people make stupid mistakes. On the battlefield, those who make stupid mistakes are dead, and they do not get up and wash the Karo Syrup blood off after the director yells "CUT!"