EXFIL by Anthony Patton (best book reader txt) 📕

had read the night before, and their arguments and insights were purified light.

As I admired the students, I saw myself as a young cadet with my own pure light, the same young cadet who had once wondered what it would be like to have a successful career and teach at West Point, as many of my students no doubt wondered about me.

I never could have imagined that one of my instructors could have acted the way I had, but I now could conclude that some of them probably had.

I didn’t know whether it was intentional or ironic, but one of the courses on my schedule was Ethics of the Military Profession. I wasn’t any more of a philosopher than anyone else, but they needed someone to teach the class. I had taken ethics as a cadet, and the teacher’s guide made it possible to teach most classes without the benefit of an advanced degree.

One lecture about the major ethical systems was particularly lively and put things in perspective. The utilitarian ethics of Mill was historically important and worthy of study but the topic was of limited relevance for the profession of arms. The principle of “the greatest good for the greatest number” was ambiguous, difficult to measure, and hardly useful for leading or motivating troops on the battlefield. The virtue ethics of Aristotle, however, had stood the test of time, was practical for daily living, and essential to sustaining a disciplined fighting force. This called us to a higher standard that was within our reach.

When the discussion turned to the deontological ethics of Kant, I’ll never forget the exchange—not word for word, but the key points.

“How do we assess whether someone acts in a morally right way?” I asked.

“If they act because of duty,” a student said.

“How do we assess the morality of a person?”

“By the motives of their actions,” another student said, “not by the consequences.”

“Why?”

“Because the ends do not justify the means,” another student said; “there are always moral means to achieve particular ends.”

“How do we know they have the right motives?” I asked.

“Because they have a good will.”

“Why should we do what is good?” I asked.

“Because it is the right thing to do.”

“How often?”

“Always.”

“Correct,” I said. “As an Army officer, you should always do the right thing.”

I turned to erase something on the white board to hide the tears welling in my eyes. Leave it to a classroom of West Point cadets to help me remember the most important lesson of life. I had no idea what kind of journey was before them or how many of them would fail to live up to this profound dictum, but I could only hope that most of them would avoid my mistakes.

The world these cadets were entering often didn’t approve of ethical systems that held people to high moral standards or spoke about objective Truth, but what alternative did we have? If we lowered the standard, people would fail to live up to the lower standard. I wrote Mill, Aristotle, and Kant on the whiteboard to justify my delay tactic and turned as class ended.

Teaching every day gave me a new appreciation for the profession, but after a career of working nights and weekends in foreign countries to accomplish the mission, or putting my life on the line in places like Iraq and Afghanistan, this teaching gig was a leisurely change of pace.

I was done teaching for the day and didn’t have any papers to grade, only a few odds and ends that could wait until the next week. I paused in the middle of the campus to admire the U.S. flag flapping in the wind and the cadets coming and going, checking their watches or walking leisurely on a glorious Friday afternoon. For a moment, I felt a peaceful pause pass over me, like the suspension of gravity when a rising elevator reaches the top floor or swimming in a river and resting your limbs to feel the current move you gently along.

My phone rang. It was Beth. She was talking to a special guest and told me to hurry.

When I entered the cafeteria a few minutes later, I was pleased to see Vice Admiral Wattana from the Royal Thai Navy. It transpired that a group of Thai military officers was visiting D.C. and New York, and he took advantage of a lull in his schedule to visit West Point, in particular, to see Beth and discuss her book. Of course, I had always known her charm was the real reason he had agreed to meet me in Bangkok. As luck would have it, he was knee deep in the port project and frustrated with how it was developing.

I admired his pristine white uniform as we met with a firm handshake and seated ourselves.

“Welcome to West Point,” I said.

“I see teaching suits you,” he said. The gray hair and wrinkles on his face emanated wisdom. “You look relaxed.”

“I feel great,” I said, intrigued by his observation. “I understand there’s a problem with the port project?”

He nodded. “Some powerful business interests are seeking money from Russia and China, but we have security concerns.” He touched Beth’s hand. “Your lovely wife tells me you might be in a position to help?”

I looked at her, knowing this meant she wanted me to take the job. “Mr. Bartfield has his eye on this project.”

“I have great respect for Mr. Bartfield,” he said. “If he could submit a proposal, I could arrange for a series of discreet meetings with the right people. I imagine Mr. Bartfield himself would not attend?”

“Probably not,” I said as Beth gave me an encouraging smile.

We stood and shook hands. “We’ll be in touch.”

I nodded and waved as a junior Thai naval officer escorted him out of the cafeteria.

“Any more classes today?” I asked.

“Nope,” she said. “Done for the day.”

We held hands and walked outside. “I guess I should call Bartfield.”

She nodded as we walked. “What should we have for dinner?”

“The boys should be home early—no sports, right?” I