When the "Wolves" are not around the sheep don't much like the sheepdog. But when the Wolf shows up then they want protected. If the "people" showing disrespect for their military had someone jabbing them in the a** with a bayonet they would be praying these same men would arrive and save their sorry butts. Some of the half-wits in the US are just as bad or worse.
Dan

Kipling put it this way:

TOMMY

I went into a public-'ouse, to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up and sez, we serve no red coats here
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an'Tommy that, an' Tommy go away,
But its Thank you, Mister Atkins, when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O its Thank you Mr Atkins, when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me.
They sent me to the gallery or round the music- 'alls,
But when it comes to fighting, Lord! They'll shove me in the stalls.
For its Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' Tommy wait outside,
But it's, Special train for Atkins, when the trooper's on the tide
the troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopships on the tide
O its Special train for Atkins, when the troopers on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap.
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business, then paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' Tommy, 'ows your soul?
But its Thin red line of heroes, when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's Thin red line of heroes, when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you.
An' if sometimes our conduct isn't all your fancy paints,
Why single men in barricks, don't grow into plaster saints.
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' Tommy, fall be'ind,
But its please to walk in front sir, when theres trouble in the wind.
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
Oh its please to walk in front sir, when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an'schools, an'fires an'all,
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face,
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' Chuck him out, the brute,
But its Saviour of 'is country, when the guns begin to shoot.
An' its Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please,
An Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool--- you bet that Tommy sees.

Rudyard Kipling