It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.
My men can eat their belts, but my tanks have gotta have gas.
We have the finest food, the finest equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we're going up against. By God, I do.
My men don't surrender. I don't want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he has been hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight back.
The more I see of Arabs the less I think of them. By having studied them a good deal I have found out the trouble. They are the mixture of all the bad races on earth, and they get worse from west to east, because the eastern ones have had more crosses.
An Army is a team. It lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is pure horse shit. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don't know any more about real fighting under fire than they know about fucking!
In the second place, Harrison and his ilk believe that the Displaced Person is a human being, which he is not, and this applies particularly to the Jews, who are lower than animals.
I have sinned and I have suffered, Played the hero and the knave; Fought for belly, shame, or country, And for each have found a grave. I cannot name my battles For the visions are not clear, Yet, I see the twisted faces And I feel the rending spear.
Accept the challenges so that you can feel the exhilaration of victory.
Accept the challenges, so that you may feel the exhilaration of victory.
A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan executed next week.
There is only one sort of discipline, perfect discipline.
I don't know what you think you're trying to do, but the krauts ought to pin a medal on you for helping them mess up discipline for us.
Prepare for the unknown by studying how others in the past have coped with the unforeseeable and the unpredictable.