Starship Troopers: Chapter 13  Summary & Analysis

Johnnie’s concern to explain the organization of the battalion contributes to the realistic portrayal of military organization and service in the book. It also hints at the current state of the war, which is chaotic—ongoing losses mean that the Blackguard’s complement of soldiers is low, as noted by its “rump” or remnant designation.

Johnnie’s explanation of military organization offers another reminder that a soldier is only responsible for—and usually only aware of—his own small corner of the action. Earlier, when he and Mr. Rico  were reunited, they realized they’d been in some of the same battles, even though their platoons hadn’t encountered each other.

Another difference between the M.I. and armies of the past is the ratio of officers to soldiers. In addition to requiring all officers to be battle tested, the M.I. requires them to wear many hats, because their ethos emphasizes the importance of fighting. Johnnie has already noticed the high prevalence of disabled soldier-officers who fill the few absolutely necessary non-combat roles, like teaching officer candidates.

Johnnie has already listed many examples of the “everyone works, everyone fights” ethos of the M.I., and this is another point of its distinction from 20th and 21st century armies. For example, Migliaccio was the Roughnecks’ first section leader and their chaplain. The camaraderie of shared experience contributes to positive morale among infantrymen.

To be absolutely clear about the M.I.’s low number of officers, Johnnie lays out the numbers. Notably, he considers what the M.I. requires—the bare minimum necessary to keep the organization running. To accomplish this small divisional wedge, many officers fill multiple roles, and many non-commissioned officers (sergeants) also take on officers’ responsibilities.

Just by the number of required staff positions, in fact, the M.I. should have almost twice as many officers as it does. But even this much larger number would be dwarfed by the ratio of officers to soldiers in armies of the past. History teaches Johnnie that the caliber of a military’s officers is more important than their number. The job of the army is to enact the government’s decisions by force and Johnnie has already said that the infantryman’s trade is slaughter. Thus, many of the jobs in historical armies (recreation, morale) are a useless waste in Johnnie’s eyes. The Terran Federation’s army, by implication, is fiercer and more focused than those of the past.

The book opened with Johnnie’s shakes, and when the cap troopers undergo drop training, those who can’t bring themselves to enter the capsules or tubes are compassionately discharged. Silva’s “twitching awfuls” is another example of this widespread problem. The fact that even an experienced officer can fall prey to what might be described in contemporary terms as PTSD again indicates the brutality of the war and the corresponding depth of commitment that successful officers have for protecting their society.

Blackstone doesn’t like Johnnie’s stiff demeanor because a scared or tense officer is bound to alarm his troops. This connects back to Johnnie’s respect for Zim’s precision and Frankel’s gusto during basic training (Chapter 9).

Blackstone asks Johnnie to step into his leadership role long before the troops drop into their first mission, because understanding and taking care of the men is an important part of the officer’s job. This recalls the familial relationship between the Roughnecks and their “parents” Jelal and Rasczak. Johnnie is sensitive towards Brumby’s feelings, just as he was sensitive toward Ace’s when he was promoted ahead of the more experienced man. To ensure that his troops are all ready to fight, Johnnie wants to make sure they all feel that their work is appreciated.

Blackstone—yet another father figure for Johnnie—tests his knowledge and instincts, and Johnnie yet again proves that he’s not only a good soldier but that he’s officer material. Blackstone and Silva have had to work the system a little, delaying Brumby’s promotion to keep their platoon intact at this pivotal point in the war. This speaks to the importance of camaraderie among team members and points to the differences between the humans and the Arachnids. A soldier isn’t as easily replaced in his unit as an interchangeable Bug warrior.

Officer-to-officer, Johnnie and Blackstone speak candidly about the dangers of the war—promoting people isn’t just important to prevent mishaps like the episode with the Chesapeake that Nielssen raised earlier, but also because the likelihood of surviving long enough to enjoy the promotion is getting smaller and smaller. A newly graduated recruit has the lowest rank—Private—and the first promotion (to Private First Class) is reserved for those who have proved their mettle in battle because a soldier’s job is to prove his virtue on the battlefield.

Johnnie worries that the suits won’t be ready in time, despite their importance to the cap troopers (see Chapter 1 and Chapter 7). He’s willing to help because he lives up to the M.I.’s “everybody works, everybody drops” ethos and symbolizes his concern for taking care of the men under his command.

Johnnie’s inability to selectively focus on his most important tasks betrays his immaturity at the same time as it demonstrates his desire to prove himself worthy. He’s afraid to disappoint Blackstone, Nielssen (who assigned him the math homework), or his men (who need the extra “George” jobs done on occasion). Johnnie was lashed for negligence during a training drill (Chapter 7), and his refusal to cut corners like Graham shows how deeply he’s internalized that painful lesson.

Johnnie explained in Chapter 4 that sleep was the key to happiness and the cap trooper’s most precious commodity. Yet, it’s the first thing that he cuts when he’s faced with an insurmountable amount of work. His fear of disappointing others has caused him to lose sight of what’s important: keeping himself in top condition to practice the soldier’s vocation. Blackstone, instead of punishing or mocking him, gently helps him to understand the magnitude of his miscalculation and sets him back on the right path. The harsh discipline of basic training is for immature recruits, but Johnnie’s demonstrated his capacity for growth already as a cadet. 

Blackstone’s sense of proportion carries a grim reminder that nothing is guaranteed in the world of the M.I.: he could fail his apprenticeship voyage, or he could be killed in action. By emphasizing academic subjects like math instead of operational readiness, he’s got his priorities backwards.

This mission is different from any of the others Johnnie’s been on. It is, however, precisely the kind of job that M.I. are cut out for, according to Zim’s definition in Chapter 5. It would be easy for the Navy to obliterate Planet P and render it useless as an advance base, but the Commander in Chief wants Bug prisoners, and capturing them will require coordination, individual intuition, and valor.

Calling the Arachnids “animate machinery” belittles the species, but it also serves to emphasize the differences between their hive mind and human individualism. The fact that warriors are easy to capture but yield no useful information because they’re not making decisions for themselves seems to support the “machine” idea, but the Federation doesn’t have any understanding yet of how the Bugs operate.

Johnnie acknowledges that the very human impulse to rescue their captured comrades may be an evolutionary weakness. The book has raised several questions about the balance between individual and communal good, including the example of the colonists on Sanctuary (Chapter 11) who are destined to be left behind by evolution unless they choose to irradiate themselves regularly. But it never provides a final answer to the question. Like the cap troopers, readers must accept the Federation’s decisions on faith.

Johnnie’s language debases the Arachnids when he describes a species so advanced that it has achieved interstellar flight as an infestation of “bugs” that must be “dug” and “rooted” out of the ground. The Arachnids’ appearance may contribute to this language, but describing the enemy as subhuman or “other” is a key propaganda tactic employed in genocide.  

The Federation forces brief the soldiers so thoroughly because mission success depends on their cohesive performance and understanding of the mission’s goals—especially in a situation where quick, individual thinking will be required to capture brain or queen Arachnids.

The platoon’s patrol area is large, which suggests that the battle planners consider Arachnid activity to be manageable. However, Johnnie knows all too well from Operation Bughouse that the situation and the plan never quite match up. Rather than trusting the intelligence he’s received in briefing, his priority is to establish his own understanding of the current situation.

Johnnie risks distraction when he thinks about his former platoon—and his Father—who are somewhere else on Planet P. But he calls his mind back to the matter at hand, again demonstrating how well he internalized the painful lesson of his flogging during basic training (Chapter 7). He won’t do anything to risk the lives of the men under his command.

The number of causalities Johnnie notices, in addition to the fact that the bodies are still on the ground, suggests some gaps in the operational plan. The uncoordinated actions of the surviving Cherubs suggests that they’ve lost their commander and sergeant and have no one left to give them orders.

It will be easier to capture the brain if they’re not well defended by warriors, so the Federation forces must first deplete the Arachnids’ reserves. Unfortunately, doing so requires treating the cap troopers more like expendable Arachnid warriors, sacrificing as many as necessary to reduce the forces lurking underground. Johnnie finds this plan unnerving, and it’s notable that the leadership in charge of planning and running the mission are orbiting the planet rather than having boots on the ground.

Johnnie won’t exactly contradict his orders, but he’s willing to cheat a little if it will protect his men while still fulfilling the mission objectives. The ability to make independent decisions is one of the differences between human soldiers and Arachnid warriors. Johnnie’s concerns about the situation are confirmed by Moise’s report and the fact that Chang and his sergeant both died on Square Black One.

The crater is another suggestion that the situation on the ground is worse than Johnnie has been led to expect, as its size and radioactivity indicate that the Arachnids are using some heavy weaponry to defend themselves. The size of Square Black One, especially relative to the number of men patrolling it, increases the danger, hinting that exemplary performance will be required from the men if they’re to survive.

Johnnie relies on his sergeant, just as Nielssen and Blackstone have urged him to do, but when they have a difference of opinion, Johnnie goes with his own gut over the sergeant’s suggestions. It’s important for him to assert his right to command his platoon. He’s reenacting his experience in the Roughnecks with Ace, where he needed to assert the authority that he had been given over an older and more experienced man.

Thinking on his feet, Johnnie figures out a way to cover the territory while also protecting his men to the best of his ability. The sergeant suggests only a small change, demonstrating his approval of Johnnie’s plan. Johnnie is doing a good job proving himself thus far.

The sergeant’s precision offers a subtle clue to his identity, although it won’t be revealed until later in the chapter. The quick, silent efficiency with which the platoon follows his orders exemplifies military discipline at its finest and speaks highly of the sergeant, Blackstone, and Lieutenant Silva, who have prepared their men to run like a well-oiled machine. Johnnie wishes to go back to being a boot because it’s hard to be in command. But it’s hard because he’s worried about the men’s safety, so his authority over them is perfectly balanced by his sense of responsibility for them, proving Major Reid’s truism about power (that responsibility is its opposite). 

Johnnie and the men in the platoon need to rely on their training and discipline to confront a dangerous and difficult mission. The usual things that would protect them (long range weapons, plugging unguarded Arachnid holes) are out of the question. This moment strikes at the heart of Zim’s statement (Chapter 5) that a cap trooper should be a dangerous man, no matter what weapons he has at his disposal.

Johnnie’s ability to do things by the book makes him a good leader, but he’s also concerned about keeping up the men’s vigilance and morale. Their swift response to the freeze command recalls the Hendrick episode and shows how real, trained soldiers—as opposed to undisciplined recruits—behave.

Johnnie and Blackstone are united in their delicate balancing act between the official word of the higher-ups—represented by the senser’s map—and their own, individual instincts. Of course, these instincts have been honed by training and tested by battle, but their caution in accepting the map shows the importance of individual intelligence and determination even in the context of a group operation.

Given the nature of the operation, the most important job the men can do is wait, vigilant in case there’s action. During these quiet moments, Blackstone continues to mentor Johnnie. The Bugs’ sounds can be referenced against domestic noises like cooking—a stark reminder that, despite technological advances, the troopers must still rely on their senses, too.

Johnnie still feels an instinctive dislike for the Arachnids; he can’t imagine sleeping if they’re crawling around under his feet. Blackstone eavesdrops on his conversation with the sergeant and puts them both to sleep by hypnotic suggestion. He shares his quiet omniscience with Rasczak, who also had an uncanny ability to keep tabs on his men. Overruling Johnnie and the sergeant also offers a reminder of why military redundancy and chains of command are important—sometimes a cooler or more experienced head must prevail. 

Putting Johnnie and the sergeant to sleep is also a sign of Blackstone’s intuition, which the sergeant has learned to trust. Yet again, Blackstone’s actions highlight the necessary balance between individual intuition and military protocol; the cap troopers have insight that the Arachnid warrior lack.

Johnnie uses his head—and practices his math skills—while he listens to the Bug activity. Blackstone corrects him, but without causing Johnnie any shame. He doesn’t expect Johnnie to know everything, and he provides the backup to ensure the safety and success of the mission without stepping on Johnnie’s authority.

When Johnnie finally hears burrowing Arachnids, it’s from one of the listening posts he and Blackstone set up outside of the areas identified on the senser’s map. Their intuition has given them valuable lead time against what was clearly meant as a surprise attack. The panic Johnnie feels betrays his youth and inexperience, especially compared to Captain Blackstone. But, like with his shakes in the drop tube, he can still carry out his duties despite his anxiety.

As he and the sergeant rearrange the troops, Johnnie continues to be bothered by the odd location of the tunneling noises; his best guess is that they’re making a new pathway to pop up and surprise the troops from an unexpected angle. While this moment certainly is dangerous, the more tunnels they leave exposed, the greater the chance that the M.I. will be able to infiltrate their hives and capture brains or queens.

In the moments before the action begins, Johnnie and the sergeant turn their attention to the suits—the men’s only source of protection against the gathering attack. Johnnie’s forgotten how some of the soldiers are made vulnerable by their slow marauder suits, but the sergeant—a professional with much more experience—hasn’t. His correction of Johnnie shows how much the young man has yet to learn, while at the same time Johnnie shows his merit by catching on quickly without having to be lectured.

Compared to his first action against the Arachnids on Klendathu, Johnnie has come a long way; when the ground opens up under his feet and even when he's engulfed by a swarm of alarming, spider-like creatures, he keeps his head. He even has the presence of mind to recognize the strangeness of the situation as he jumps away, and when he realizes that the swarm is made up of workers instead of warriors, he trusts the intuition that tells him it’s a distraction. His presence of mind and his instincts demonstrate his own virtue and suggest that the humans are superior to the Arachnids because they can make individual assessments like this of the situation as it’s developing, rather than relying on a central brain for control.

Earlier, Johnnie fretted that the Blackguards could do just as well on their own as under his command. Without downplaying his authority, the split-second decision of the sergeant and Brumby to explore one of the Bugs’ diversionary tunnels demonstrates the power and importance of independent decision-making within the framework of the organized battle plan.

A few men have died, but since the sergeant and Johnnie had the forethought and vigilance to tighten up the ranks, the troopers were able to contain their losses through mutual defense. And, despite the shock of the surprise attack, the professional soldiers calmly assess their losses and the new situation.

Johnnie swallows his fear to make good on the promise that the M.I. never leave anyone behind: if the sergeant and Brumby’s section are in the tunnels, he’s responsible to get them back to their retrieval boat on time or die trying. He doesn’t ask anyone to go with him, making this an act of personal bravery. But Cunha and his men—model soldiers all—follow him immediately and without question. 

While the Federation has provided some guidelines for underground action against the Bugs, Johnnie must assess and react to the situation on his own, since no one has been able to report how accurate the Army’s guesses have been. He trusts his instincts to keep his men together as much as possible while leaving a few soldiers behind to ensure that their exits remain useable.

Remarkably, Brumby, his section, and the sergeant are all alive. The sergeant’s reluctance to respond arises from his dangerous position, suggesting that he doesn’t want the men to risk their lives attempting to rescue him. But Johnnie (a truly virtuous soldier) won’t leave him behind. For the second time, the sergeant’s precision is highlighted, suggesting that this trait is more than just the quality of a well-trained and experienced soldier.

Underground, Johnnie no longer has the luxury of listening devices to warn him of the Bugs’ movements, so he and his men are surprised by a party of Arachnid warriors just like Brumby was; however, by rejoining forces, the two sections are able to overpower their attackers. And, just like Blackstone predicted, Brumby didn’t get long to enjoy his promotion. Despite the loss of four more men, Johnnie and Cunha reorganize and swiftly continue their search for the sergeant.

Because the cap troopers now have the element of surprise on their side, they’re able to quickly overcome the Arachnids that have the sergeant pinned down and return, victorious, towards the surface with their sergeant and his brain prisoner. Johnnie’s injury in the tunnel collapse cuts his command short and illustrates the role that chance and accident—as well as training and preparation—have in war.

Like the rest of the ships, the Argonne is named for a famous battle; the Allies’ Argonne campaign in France was both the largest and deadliest action for the United States in World War I. The historical battle reflects the size and importance of the battle for Planet P. Because he died valiantly, Brumby’s rationale for following the sergeant into the tunnels will remain a mystery. But in the end, it doesn’t matter much: he died honorably, in action, and his death contributed to achieving the mission’s objectives.

The sergeant is, in fact, Zim, and his participation in the final phase of Johnnie’s training provides a neat symmetry to Johnnie’s story. The fact that no one knew the two men had a history indicates their ability to approach each other as professional, although Johnnie’s respect for Zim is evident even when he’s just identified as “the sergeant.” Zim’s ability to quickly assess the situation and drop into the tunnels adds more evidence to the argument that the moral individualism of well-trained soldiers is superior to the Bugs’ social structure—which is limited by their reliance on a smaller number of brain Bugs to make decisions for the collective.

Johnnie’s angst over the action derives from his feeling that his injuries aren’t “real,” because they didn’t happen at the hands of an enemy, and his sense that he hasn’t lived up to Rasczak’s example. However, the operation was a success, and his was one of the only platoons to have captured a brain Arachnid. His isolation from the platoon—he’s been rescued aboard a different ship and has no idea if Captain Blackstone is even still alive—exacerbates his distress, because a cap trooper lives and dies by his comrades. Being cut off so suddenly from the Blackguards seems more alienating than when he thought he had become an orphan. Based on Johnnie’s earlier math, the platoon lost at least 20 men on Planet P, underlining the magnitude of risks soldiers are willing to accept in pursuing Federal Service.

Johnnie graduates from OCS on his own merits—he has earned his passing grades and proved his readiness to command men on the battlefield under Captain Blackstone. Yet, he is deeply aware of his dependence on and debt to the role models in his life, from his friend Carl to the many senior officers who mentored him as he trained and served. He’s earned his commission, but he’s a soldier, and his military family has played an important role in helping to achieve his success.

In an extremely fortuitous turn of events, Johnnie finds himself assigned to his beloved platoon to complete his training under Lieutenant Jelly. For Johnnie, home is where the Roughnecks are, and the fact that his actual Father is one of them is merely a bonus. The list of ships—again, all named after famous battles or notable soldiers—connects Johnnie’s story with a long and noble military history.

Ramón Magsaysay is a historical example of the ideal soldier-citizen according to Mr. Dubois’s—and Johnnie’s—definitions. Coming from humble roots, he served with distinction in the Pacific Theatre of World War II before launching a successful career and eventually becoming President of the Philippines in 1953. He was a vocal opponent of communism—in alignment with the book’s cold-war condemnation of communism as a political theory—and his administration was respected for its integrity and public service. Not only does he provide an exemplar of the soldier-turned-model citizen that provides the model for the Federation’s limited form of government, but his story lies close to Johnnie’s heart because he himself is Filipino. This final revelation underscores the utopian vision of united humanity. And, like his countryman Magsaysay, Johnnie earns his place in the Federation by demonstrating excellent character, impeccable virtue, and unquestionable devotion to the duties of citizenship.