You can tell them from the fake soldiers by the air of resolve and the real working uniforms instead of some pretty boy looking getup.
“I’d like to have two armies: one for display with lovely guns, tanks, little soldiers, staffs, distinguished and doddering generals, and dear little regimental officers who would be deeply concerned over their general’s bowel movements or their colonel’s piles, an army that would be shown for a modest fee on every fairground in the country.
“The other would be the real one, composed entirely of young enthusiasts in camouflage uniforms, who would not be put on display, but from whom impossible efforts would be demanded and to whom all sorts of tricks would be taught. That’s the army in which I should like to fight.”
—Jean Larte Guy, Soldier and Writer—
refering to the purfumed princes of the pentagon and not the of photo from the dirty dozen
“pretty colonel, very pretty but can they fight?”