When he finished his little speech, he had none of the habits one would expect from one so young, neither the slight embarrassment nor the brash defiance that often punctuates the speech of the insecure. Rather, he reached for his beer and drank.
“It’s clear,” said Marcel, “that you wish to stand alone.”
“Only a dullard would not.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.
Finally, Marcel spoke. “But surely you don’t mean that.”
Lupa nodded. “If I hadn’t meant it, I wouldn’t have said it.”
“What of our men at the front, then? They don’t stand alone. In fact, all our hope resides in their fighting together, in the assumption that there are goals that must take precedence over individuality. Are all our soldiers dullards?” “Probably most. It’s always rather meaningless to generalize. Joffre certainly is.”
“Then you wouldn’t fight?” Marcel was getting angry.
Lupa took a breath. “Fortunately, I’m a citizen of the United States, and we are presently neutral. I’m afforded the luxury of not fighting.”
“But would you?”
“I wouldn’t like to be mere cannon fodder.”
“Because you wish to stand alone.”
“Exactly.” He drank some beer. “But I see you’re getting upset with me. I don’t mean to say that I don’t believe in causes, or that everyone should have individuality. I applaud our troops at the front. I only refer to men of adequate intelligence, and they are not so commonplace as is generally believed, who attain eminence in a field and then prove themselves incompetent because they lack imagination, individuality, call it what you will. Joffre can execute all the textbook moves. What he cannot do is adapt. Luckily for France, the Germans are even more stupid, or they would have taken Paris months ago.” He paused and drank again.
“The key then…” said Marcel.
“Is innovation,” Lupa continued. “I don’t mean to slur those who follow others’ examples, or those who learn a trade and become proficient at a skill. No. We need them. I simply bemoan the lack of creative leadership by people who are, nominally, our leaders.”