Robert A. Heinlein - Starship Troopers - History & Moral Philosophy Excerpt pg 94-96 lyrics

I didn't even gather around when Zim handed it out; I figured now on not speaking to him until he got in— no point in giving him reason to notice me until we were actually in reach of headquarters. So I was surprised when he called my name and held up a letter. I bounced over and took it. And was surprised again— it was from Mr. Dubois, my high school instructor in History and Moral Philosophy. I would sooner have expected a letter from Santa Claus. Then, when I read it, it still seemed like a mistake. I had to check the address and the return address to convince myself that he had written it and had meant it for me. My dear boy, I would have written to you much sooner to express my delight and my pride in learning that you had not only volunteered to serve but also had chosen my own service. But not to express surprise; it is what I expected of you— except, possibly, the additional and very personal bonus that you chose the M.I. This is the sort of consummation, which does not happen too often, that nevertheless makes all of a teacher's efforts worth while. We necessarily sift a great many pebbles, much sand, for each nugget— but the nuggets are the reward. By now the reason I did not write at once is obvious to you. Many young men, not necessarily through any reprehensible fault, are dropped during recruit training. I have waited (I have kept in touch through my own connections) until you had “sweated it out” past the hump (how well we all know that hump!) and were certain, barring accidents or illness, of completing your training and your term. You are now going through the hardest part of your service— not the hardest physically (though physical hardship will never trouble you again; you now have its measure), but the hardest spiritually . . . the deep , soul-turning readjustments and re-evaluations necessary to metamorphize a potential citizen into one in being. Or, rather I should say: you have already gone through the hardest part, despite all the tribulations you still have ahead of you and all the hurdles, each higher than the last, which you still must clear. But it is that “hump” that counts— and, knowing you, lad, I know that I have waited long enough to be sure that you are past your “hump”— or you would be home now. When you reached that spiritual mountaintop you felt something, a new something. Perhaps you haven't words for it (I know I didn't, when I was a boot). So perhaps you will permit an older comrade to lend you the words, since it often helps to have discrete words. Simply this: The noblest fate that a man can endure is to place his own mortal body between his loved home and the war's desolation. The words are not mine, of course, as you will recognize. Basic truths cannot change and once a man of insight expresses one of them it is never necessary, no matter how much the world changes, to reformulate them. This is an immutable, true everywhere, throughout all time, for all men and all nations. Let me hear from you, please, if you can spare an old man some of your precious sack time to write an occasional letter. And if you should happen to run across any of my former mates, give them my warmest greetings. Good luck, trooper! You've made me proud. Jean V. Dubois Lt.-Col., M.I., rtd. Heinlein, Robert A. (1987-05-15). Starship Troopers (pp. 94-96). Penguin Group US. Kindle Edition.