"Have you ever fought a duel?" Crawford Bell asked.
"No. This is only my third raid."
"What's happened up to now is a boy's game compared to that. That's for real."
"You don't have to tell me. It makes me sick to think about it."
"You don't have to do it. It's something no government can ask you to do."
"No, but the UN Secretariat approves of it and every honest psychologist approves of it, too. Let me rest. You get the junk ready."
He wondered if anything was worth a duel. The star ship wasn't. His career wasn't. So why bother? But he knew the answer and so did every soldier on the planet. Every duel fought made killing a little less likely; every duel decreased the danger modern knowledge, which hadn't been destroyed with the weapons it had made possible, would wipe out human life. It wasn't something you did for your own country. You did it for the whole human race and all the generations to come.
At five he arose from his cot. He felt groggy but that couldn't be helped.
In the chilly dawn he took off his jacket and shirt. Bare chested, he stepped into the space between his vehicles and the enemy line.
Crawford Bell handed him a public address system. "Good morning," his voice boomed. "I hope you've had a better sleep than I got. It's easy to be brave when you know your opponent won't kill you. It's easy to stand in line and look heroic and patriotic when you know I don't dare run you over with my vehicles. But how brave are you? Are you really willing to suffer for your country? I think the men of Belderkan are cowards. I think you would still be running if we had fought an old fashioned war last night."