A powerful iron will overcomes this friction; it crushes the obstacles, but certainly the machine along with them.
We shall often meet with this result.

Like an obelisk towards which the principal streets of a town converge, the strong will of a proud spirit stands prominent and commanding in the middle of the Art of War.
Friction is the only conception which in a general way corresponds to that which distinguishes real War from War on paper.

The military machine, the Army and all belonging to it, is in fact simple, and appears on this account easy to manage.

But let us reflect that no part of it is in one piece, that it is composed entirely of individuals, each of which keeps up its own friction in all directions.

Theoretically all sounds very well: the commander of a battalion is responsible for the execution of the order given; and as the battalion by its discipline is glued together into one piece, and the chief must be a man of acknowledged zeal, the beam turns on an iron pin with little friction.
But it is not so in reality, and all that is exaggerated and false in such a conception manifests itself at once in War.