[Lord Lovat] was ordering now, as they waded up Sword Beach, in that drawly voice of his: “Give us a tune, piper.” Mr Millin thought him a mad bastard. The man beside him, on the point of jumping off, had taken a bullet in the face and gone under. But there was Lovat, strolling through fire quite calmly in his aristocratic way, allegedly wearing a monogrammed white pullover under his jacket and carrying an ancient Winchester rifle, so if he was mad Mr Millin thought he might as well be ridiculous too, and struck up “Hielan’ Laddie”. Lovat approved it with a thumbs-up, and asked for “The Road to the Isles”. Mr Millin inquired, half-joking, whether he should walk up and down in the traditional way of pipers. “Oh, yes. That would be lovely.”
There is no other way and no third option and no compromise and no half measures. The door of the Ark will soon be shut. The windows of heaven open, and the fountains of the sea break forth, those who are outside must drown, and those who are half inside must be crushed in the jamb.
This doesn’t mean we send in the missionaries, but in the histories written in Heaven, this could be the news of the decade.