Yvonne Roberts: Let women fight and die

It is difficult to imagine what possible "hygiene" risk is imposed by wearing a sleeveless top in a military canteen – third degree soup burns? Flesh wounds inflicted by a flying chip butty? On the other hand, if the person wearing the sleeveless top happens to be female, attractive and she is with the Royal Marines in Afghanistan, perhaps what a sleeveless top rumpus is really about is the exceedingly strange way men step back in time when it comes to women at the front line.

Lara Logan, 31, is the GMTV correspondent who has consistently beaten ITN, CNN and the BBC in her coverage from Afghanistan. Last week, just as it was announced that – good for her – she had been poached by the US network CBS, The Sun ran a front-page story which claimed that senior officers had reprimanded Logan for upsetting their men, by "flashing her cleavage". "Put those bazookas away", The Sun ordered, unusually, since bare-breasted is its customary dress code for women.

GMTV then explained that a complaint had been made but, bizarrely, only by a Royal Marine chef who had objected to Ms Logan's top in his dining area for "hygiene reasons" (is this military speak for "on grounds of taste"?). What are they: men or camouflaged mice? All that heavy duty training, only to be disarmed by sights – a bare arm and a bazooka or two – which even their dads in National Service could take without buckling at the knees.

Last year, Julian Manyon, an ITN foreign correspondent, claimed that Logan had special access to the Northern Alliance leaders, because she had used her "God-given advantages with a skill that Mata Hari must envy". Logan's response is that the tools she uses are personability and good contacts. Undoubtedly true, as is the fact that female foreign correspondents inevitably stand out in the field because they are still relatively rare.

Whatever advantages that brings them, however, are more than outweighed by the media and military drinking-boys' camaraderie from which they are often excluded. It doesn't come remotely near the charge of trading sex for stories – unless the woman intends to bring an entirely different definition to the term "battle fatigue" and anticipates an extremely short career.

Women correspondents are sirens when they get the scoop and silly soppies when they don't. Only men, apparently, achieve simply on talent and are beaten by bad luck. These are attitudes rooted in the 1950s. But they also give us clues as to why the battle front lives on in a time warp, as a no-go female zone.

Last week, Geoff Hoon, the Secretary of State for Defence, announced that women will continue to be barred from close combat in the armed forces. His reasons were that women are not aggressive enough, not fit enough and might not be brave enough, ie they are not men. In addition, defence officials said, a female death might upset male colleagues in a way that could disrupt military operations – although this should not be mistaken for "chivalry".

Nobody wants young men or women to die, especially for ridiculous causes. But if they are willing, well trained and pass the required tests (adjusted to allow, for instance, for the fact that what women may lack in strength, they make up for in stamina), then why discriminate? Are women as brave? Every liberation struggle in the world says many are. Are women as aggressive? According to reports from the front line of Saturday-night Britain, the army of laddettes are frequently even more so.

Human nature adapts: followers of David Beckham are happy to weave strands of the feminine into redefining modern masculinity; while masculine traits are now a part of (some) female identities – women can be warmongers too. And, given the chance, some will be capable of showing the bravery and spirit of self-sacrifice that have always marked out the hero.

The exclusive "manliness" of war is no more – with outcomes we, and the Royal Marines, have yet to learn. I wouldn't want my daughters to volunteer to die for Queen and country – but, sometimes, equality exacts an unexpected price.