道格拉斯·麦克阿瑟(Douglas MacArthur)，美国陆军五星上将。出生于阿肯色州小石城的军人世家。1899年中学毕业后考入西点军校，1903年以名列第一的优异成绩毕业，到工程兵部队任职，并赴菲律宾执勤。麦克阿瑟有过50年的军事实践经验，被美国国民称之为“一代老兵”，而其自身的又曾是“美国最年轻的准将、西点军校最年轻的校长、美国陆军历史上最年轻的陆军参谋长”，凭借精妙的军事谋略和敢战敢胜的胆略，麦克阿瑟堪称美国战争史上的奇才。

这是麦克阿瑟将军的一篇著名演讲，是他一生中最后一次也是最感人的一次演讲，1962年5月，他应邀来到他的母校西点军校，接受军校的最高奖励——西尔维纳斯·塞耶荣誉勋章。他检阅了学员队，和他们共进午餐。

我的生命已近黄昏，暮色已经降临，我昔日的风采和荣誉已经消失。它们随着对昔日事业的憧憬，带着那余晖消失了。昔日的记忆奇妙而美好，浸透了眼泪和昨日微笑的安慰和抚爱。我尽力但徒然地倾听，渴望听到军号吹奏起床导对那微弱而迷人的旋律，以及远处战鼓急促敲击的动人节奏。我在梦幻中依稀又听到了大炮在轰鸣，又听到了滑膛枪在鸣放，又听到了战场上那陌生、哀愁的呻吟。

The shadows are lengthening¹ for me. The twilight² is here. My days of old have vanished, tone and tint³. They have gone glimmering⁴ through the dreams of things that were. Their memory is one of wondrous⁵ beauty, watered by tears, and coaxed⁶ and caressed⁷ by the smiles of yesterday. I listen vainly, but with thirsty ears, for the witching melody of faint bugles⁸ blowing reveille, of far drums beating the long roll. In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle⁹ of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield.

然而，晚年的回忆经常将我带回到西点军校。我的耳旁回响着，反复回响着：责任，荣誉，国家。今天是我同你们进行的最后一次点名。但我愿你们知道，当我到达彼岸时，我最后想的是学员队，学员队，还是学员队。

But in the evening of my memory, always I come back to West Point. Always there echoes and re-echoes: Duty, Honor, Country. Today marks my final roll call with you, but I want you to know that when I cross the river my last conscious thoughts will be of The Corps¹⁰, and The Corps, and The Corps.

演讲全文：General Douglas MacArthur -- Thayer Award Address

General Westmoreland, General Grove¹¹, distinguished¹² guests, and gentlemen of the Corps!

As I was leaving the hotel this morning, a doorman asked me, "Where are you bound for, General?" And when I replied, "West Point," he remarked, "Beautiful place. Have you ever been there before?"

No human being could fail to be deeply moved by such a tribute as this [Thayer Award]. Coming from a profession I have served so long, and a people I have loved so well, it fills me with an emotion I cannot express. But this award is not intended primarily to honor a personality, but to symbolize¹³ a great moral code -- the code of conduct and chivalry¹⁴ of those who guard this beloved land of culture and ancient descent. That is the animation¹⁵ of this medallion. For all eyes and for all time, it is an expression of the ethics¹⁶ of the American soldier. That I should be integrated in this way with so noble an ideal arouses a sense of pride and yet of humility¹⁷ which will be with me always: Duty, Honor, Country.

Those three hallowed words reverently¹⁸ dictate¹⁹ what you ought to be, what you can be, what you will be. They are your rallying points: to build courage when courage seems to fail; to regain²⁰ faith when there seems to be little cause for faith; to create hope when hope becomes forlorn.

Unhappily, I possess neither that eloquence²¹ of diction, that poetry of imagination, nor that brilliance²² of metaphor²³ to tell you all that they mean. The unbelievers will say they are but words, but a slogan, but a flamboyant²⁴ phrase. Every pedant²⁵, every demagogue, every cynic, every hypocrite, every troublemaker²⁶, and I am sorry to say, some others of an entirely²⁸ different character, will try to downgrade them even to the extent of mockery and ridicule²⁹.

But these are some of the things they do. They build your basic character. They mold you for your future roles as the custodians³⁰ of the nation's defense³¹. They make you strong enough to know when you are weak, and brave enough to face yourself when you are afraid. They teach you to be proud and unbending in honest failure, but humble³² and gentle in success; not to substitute words for actions, not to seek the path of comfort, but to face the stress and spur of difficulty and challenge; to learn to stand up in the storm but to have compassion³³ on those who fall; to master yourself before you seek to master others; to have a heart that is clean, a goal that is high; to learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep; to reach into the future yet never neglect the past; to be serious yet never to take yourself too seriously; to be modest so that you will remember the simplicity³⁴ of true greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, the meekness³⁵ of true strength. They give you a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor³⁶ of the emotions, a freshness of the deep springs of life, a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of an appetite for adventure over love of ease. They create in your heart the sense of wonder, the unfailing hope of what next, and the joy and inspiration of life. They teach you in this way to be an officer and a gentleman.

And what sort of soldiers are those you are to lead? Are they reliable? Are they brave? Are they capable of victory? Their story is known to all of you. It is the story of the American man-at-arms. My estimate of him was formed on the battlefield many, many years ago, and has never changed. I regarded him then as I regard him now -- as one of the world's noblest figures, not only as one of the finest military characters, but also as one of the most stainless³⁷. His name and fame are the birthright of every American citizen. In his youth and strength, his love and loyalty³⁸, he gave all that mortality can give.

He needs no eulogy³⁹ from me or from any other man. He has written his own history and written it in red on his enemy's breast. But when I think of his patience under adversity, of his courage under fire, and of his modesty⁴⁰ in victory, I am filled with an emotion of admiration⁴¹ I cannot put into words. He belongs to history as furnishing one of the greatest examples of successful patriotism⁴². He belongs to posterity⁴³ as the instructor⁴⁴ of future generations in the principles of liberty and freedom. He belongs to the present, to us, by his virtues⁴⁵ and by his achievements. In 20 campaigns, on a hundred battlefields, around a thousand campfires, I have witnessed that enduring fortitude⁴⁶, that patriotic⁴⁷ self-abnegation, and that invincible⁴⁸ determination which have carved his statue in the hearts of his people. From one end of the world to the other he has drained deep the chalice⁴⁹ of courage.

As I listened to those songs [of the glee club], in memory's eye I could see those staggering columns of the First World War, bending under soggy packs, on many a weary march from dripping dusk to drizzling⁵⁰ dawn, slogging ankle-deep through the mire⁵¹ of shell-shocked roads, to form grimly for the attack, blue-lipped, covered with sludge and mud, chilled by the wind and rain, driving home to their objective, and for many, to the judgment⁵² seat of God.

I do not know the dignity of their birth, but I do know the glory of their death.

They died unquestioning, uncomplaining, with faith in their hearts, and on their lips the hope that we would go on to victory.

Always, for them: Duty, Honor, Country; always their blood and sweat and tears, as we sought the way and the light and the truth.

And 20 years after, on the other side of the globe, again the filth⁵³ of murky⁵⁴ foxholes⁵⁵, the stench of ghostly trenches⁵⁶, the slime of dripping dugouts; those boiling suns of relentless⁵⁷ heat, those torrential rains of devastating⁵⁸ storms; the loneliness and utter desolation of jungle trails; the bitterness of long separation from those they loved and cherished; the deadly pestilence⁵⁹ of tropical disease; the horror of stricken areas of war; their resolute⁶⁰ and determined⁶¹ defense, their swift and sure attack, their indomitable purpose, their complete and decisive victory -- always victory. Always through the bloody⁶² haze⁶³ of their last reverberating⁶⁴ shot, the vision of gaunt, ghastly men reverently following your password of: Duty, Honor, Country.

The code which those words perpetuate⁶⁵ embraces the highest moral laws and will stand the test of any ethics or philosophies ever promulgated⁶⁶ for the uplift of mankind. Its requirements are for the things that are right, and its restraints are from the things that are wrong.

The soldier, above all other men, is required to practice the greatest act of religious training -- sacrifice.

In battle and in the face of danger and death, he discloses those divine attributes which his Maker²⁷ gave when he created man in his own image. No physical courage and no brute⁶⁷ instinct can take the place of the Divine help which alone can sustain him.

However horrible the incidents of war may be, the soldier who is called upon to offer and to give his life for his country is the noblest development of mankind.

You now face a new world -- a world of change. The thrust into outer space of the satellite, spheres, and missiles mark the beginning of another epoch⁶⁸ in the long story of mankind. In the five or more billions of years the scientists tell us it has taken to form the earth, in the three or more billion years of development of the human race, there has never been a more abrupt⁶⁹ or staggering evolution. We deal now not with things of this world alone, but with the illimitable distances and as yet unfathomed mysteries of the universe. We are reaching out for a new and boundless⁷⁰ frontier.

We speak in strange terms: of harnessing the cosmic energy; of making winds and tides work for us; of creating unheard synthetic⁷¹ materials to supplement or even replace our old standard basics; to purify sea water for our drink; of mining ocean floors for new fields of wealth and food; of disease preventatives to expand life into the hundreds of years; of controlling the weather for a more equitable⁷² distribution of heat and cold, of rain and shine; of space ships to the moon; of the primary target in war, no longer limited to the armed forces of an enemy, but instead to include his civil populations; of ultimate conflict between a united human race and the sinister⁷³ forces of some other planetary galaxy⁷⁴; of such dreams and fantasies as to make life the most exciting of all time.

And through all this welter of change and development, your mission remains⁷⁵ fixed⁷⁶, determined, inviolable: it is to win our wars.

Everything else in your professional career is but corollary to this vital dedication⁷⁷. All other public purposes, all other public projects, all other public needs, great or small, will find others for their accomplishment⁷⁸. But you are the ones who are trained to fight. Yours is the profession of arms, the will to win, the sure knowledge that in war there is no substitute for victory; that if you lose, the nation will be destroyed; that the very obsession⁷⁹ of your public service must be: Duty, Honor, Country.

Others will debate the controversial issues, national and international, which divide men's minds; but serene⁸⁰, calm, aloof⁸¹, you stand as the Nation's war-guardian, as its lifeguard from the raging tides of international conflict, as its gladiator in the arena⁸² of battle. For a century and a half you have defended, guarded, and protected its hallowed traditions of liberty and freedom, of right and justice.

Let civilian⁸³ voices argue the merits or demerits of our processes of government; whether our strength is being sapped by deficit⁸⁴ financing, indulged in too long, by federal paternalism grown too mighty⁸⁵, by power groups grown too arrogant⁸⁶, by politics grown too corrupt⁸⁷, by crime grown too rampant⁸⁸, by morals grown too low, by taxes grown too high, by extremists grown too violent; whether our personal liberties are as thorough and complete as they should be. These great national problems are not for your professional participation⁸⁹ or military solution. Your guidepost stands out like a ten-fold beacon⁹⁰ in the night: Duty, Honor, Country.

You are the leaven⁹¹ which binds⁹² together the entire fabric⁹³ of our national system of defense. From your ranks come the great captains who hold the nation's destiny in their hands the moment the war tocsin sounds. The Long Gray Line has never failed us. Were you to do so, a million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki, in blue and gray, would rise from their white crosses thundering those magic words: Duty, Honor, Country.

This does not mean that you are war mongers.

On the contrary, the soldier, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.

But always in our ears ring the ominous⁹⁴ words of Plato, that wisest of all philosophers: "Only the dead have seen the end of war."

The shadows are lengthening for me. The twilight is here. My days of old have vanished, tone and tint. They have gone glimmering through the dreams of things that were. Their memory is one of wondrous beauty, watered by tears, and coaxed and caressed by the smiles of yesterday. I listen vainly, but with thirsty ears, for the witching melody of faint bugles blowing reveille, of far drums beating the long roll. In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield.

But in the evening of my memory, always I come back to West Point.

Always there echoes and re-echoes: Duty, Honor, Country.

Today marks my final roll call with you, but I want you to know that when I cross the river my last conscious thoughts will be of The Corps, and The Corps, and The Corps.

I bid you farewell.