Within the services, in all functions related to the passing on of information, the accent is on "knowing your stuff." The point is substantial, but not conclusive. It is upon the way that instruction is delivered rather than upon its contents as such that its moral worth rests. The pay-off is not in what is said, but in what sinks in. _A competent instructor will not only teach his men but will increase his prestige in the act._ There are many inexpressibly dull bores who know what they're talking about, but still haven't learned how to say it, because they are contemptuous of the truth that it is the dynamic flow of knowledge, rather than the static possession of it, which is the means to power and influence. As technicians, they have their place. As instructors, they would be better off if they knew only half as much about their subject, and twice as much about people. To know where truth lies is not more important than knowing how to pitch it. Take the average American military audience: what can be said fairly of its main characteristics? Perhaps this--that it is moderately reflective; that it is ready to give the untried speaker a break; that it does not like windiness, bombast or prolonged moralizing; that it refuses to be bullied; and that it can usually be won by the light touch and a little appeal to its sporting instinct. It is the little leavening in the bread which makes all the difference in its savor and digestibility. In World War I an American major, name now long forgotten, was given the task of making the rounds of the cantonments, talking to all combat formations, and convincing them that the future was bright--no Boy Scout errand. But wherever he went, morale was lifted by his words. In substance, what he said was this: "None of us cares about living with any individual who wants every break his own way. But when the odds are even, the gamble is worth any good man's time. So let's look at the proposition. You now have one chance in two; you may go overseas, you may not. Suppose you do. You still have one chance in two. You may go to the front, or you may not. If you don't, you'll see a foreign country at Uncle Sam's expense; if you do, you'll find out about war, which is the toughest chance of them all. But up there, you still have one chance in two: you may get hit, or you may not. If you breeze through it, you'll be a better man for all the rest of your life. And if you get hit, you still have one chance in two. You may get a small wound, and become a hero to your family and friends. Or there is always the last chance that it may take you out altogether. And while that is a little rugged, it is at least worth remembering that very few people seem to get out of this life alive." There was as simple an idea as any military instructor ever unloaded, and yet troops cheered this man wherever he went.