Modern military debate often gets lost in technology, jargon, and expensive promises about the "next war." In Euclid's Army: Preparing Land Forces for Warfare Today, William F. Owen cuts through the fog with a sharp and uncompromising thesis: armies must be simpler, cheaper, and better at the basics. This is not a comfortable read for those invested in the current way of doing things, but it is a necessary one.

At a time of constrained budgets and increasing threats, Owen forces us to reconsider how we train, equip, and organise land forces.

Owen's central argument is that land forces have drifted into over-complexity. He contends that armies are seduced by shiny technology, vast acquisition programmes, and speculative concepts of future war. Instead, they should prioritise what can be proven to work: robust doctrine, adaptable organisation, and relentless training in fundamentals.

In clear language, he argues that preparing for the "unknowable future" requires paring back excess and focusing on what soldiers can do with the tools available, rather than chasing the next big procurement dream.

Throughout the book Euclid's Army examines cost, weight, complexity, and effectiveness. Owen insists that simpler equipment is cheaper and more resilient in war. The current war in Ukraine seems to demonstrate this. Logistics, mobility, and the ability to sustain fighting power matter more than whether a system boasts the latest sensors or software.

This view will resonate with readers who have watched acquisition programmes spiral out of control or units trained more for parades and PowerPoint than for combat.

Owen writes like he speaks: direct. He does not mince his words. Euclid's Army, aim is to provide a framework1 that enables armies to think clearly about force design in uncertain times.

The book's greatest strength lies in its provocation. It demands that military professionals and defence planners ask hard questions. Are our training systems preparing troops for combat, or for box-ticking exercises? By stripping away complexity, Owen forces us to confront uncomfortable realities: much of what is currently fashionable in defence policy may have little utility when bullets start flying.

That said, Euclid's Army is not without weaknesses. Critics will argue that emerging domains - cyber, space, and multi-domain integration - cannot simply be ignored, yet Owen gives them little attention. Given the entrenched interests of industry and bureaucracy, some of his proposals may also feel politically unrealistic. At times, his solutions are presented as self-evident truths rather than contested ideas.

Readers looking for detailed pathways to implementation may find the book light in that respect.

Euclid's Army is not meant to be the final word on force design. Rather, it is a call to debate. In that sense, it succeeds brilliantly. By challenging orthodoxy, Owen reopens questions that many assume are settled. Do we need ever-heavier infantry vehicles? Are complex systems a liability in expeditionary warfare? How much training time is wasted on activities with no combat value? These are questions that every military professional and defence thinker should grapple with.

For a British audience, and indeed for allied readers, the relevance is obvious. As defence budgets tighten and the character of conflict remains uncertain, armies cannot afford to get force design wrong. Owen's plea for simplicity is timely. His message that training, doctrine, and organisation matter more than technology should resonate with anyone who has served on exercise or deployment. Even if one disagrees with his conclusions, the act of engaging with them is worthwhile.

Euclid's Army is a provocative and valuable addition to contemporary military debate. Its strength lies in its clarity and its insistence on fundamentals. Its weakness lies in its lack of nuance and occasional overconfidence. Yet that is also what makes it powerful: it forces readers to think, argue...