I often think, when delivering my at best half-informed opinions about MacArthur or Blamey or Churchill and various other WWII leaders, how absurd it is that I, as someone who has not and never will get within a squillionth of anything they did, should sit in judgement upon them.
I can understand the general sweep of various things, but I haven’t commanded even a section, never mind a company or battalion, let alone a brigade, division, corps or army (although I was a rather good Patrol Leader of the Eagle Patrol in the Scouts, where I was a dab hand at calculating the height of trees by triangulation or something else which I have long forgotten). I have no experience of the detail or requirements of commanding men and units and formations, that leaders like MacArthur exercised daily for most of their adult lives.
I rely upon some primary sources but mostly secondary sources for the knowledge which forms my opinions.
How nice it is to sit, relaxed and with a beer in my hand as I contemplate the vast sweep of history, in judgement upon men who had to act in the cauldron of war.
But, really, who am I, or you, to wander around the battlefield we have never seen or experienced long, long after the battle was over, commenting upon the performance of the ghosts of those who fought and commanded it?
None of them fought to lose.