Quotes About Warfare

And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred.

The Russians dashed on towards that thin redline streak tipped with a line of steel.

No soldier in that gallant bandHid half as well as he did.He lay concealed throughout the war,And so preserved his gore, O!

When the foeman bares his steel,Tarantara, tarantara!We uncomfortable feel,Tarantara.

It is not love, or morality, or international law that determines the outcome of world affairs, but the changing distribution of organized force

Love is like trench warfare - you cannot see the enemy, but you know he is there and that it is wiser to keep your head down.

That's the one thing you can always depend on; as we're fighting one war, we're always preparing for the next one.

Injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you. That's why most weapons of war are designed to injure instead of kill. Wounded are more of a drain than the dead.

mines don't work that way. They don't blow up a human body, they take off a leg or ankle or the family jewels. That's what they're designed for, not to kill people, but to wound 'em so the army will spend valuable resources keeping them alive, and then send 'em home in a wheelchair so Ma and Pa Civilian can be reminded every time they see 'em that maybe supporting this war isn't such a good idea.

His last words: On ne passé pas!

La primera víctima del conflicto deben ser nuestros propios sentimientos," fue la última frase de su propuesta, "porque su supervivencia será la causa de nuestra destrucción.

It's fear, dude, just fear and you don't have to be Sun freakin Tzu to know that real fighting isn't about killing or even hurting the other guy, it's about scaring him enough to call it a day. Break their spirit, that's what every successful army goes for, from tribal face paint to the "blitzkrieg" to…what did we call the first round of Gulf War Two, "Shock and Awe"? Perfect name, "Shock and Awe"!

All armies, be they mechanized or mountain guerilla, have to abide by three basic restrictions: they have to be bred, fed, and led.

Cuando el general George Patton contraatacó al mariscal de campo Rommel durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial, se dice que en el fragor de la batalla Patton gritó: «¡Leí tu libro, Rommel! ¡Leí tu libro!». Patton había estudiado La infantería al ataque, el libro de Rommel. Conocía la estrategia del jefe alemán y planeó sus posiciones conforme a ella2. Nosotros también conocemos las tácticas del diablo.

For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Ephesians 6:12

he'd know that I think that . . . well, that bending an enemy's will through military force is the absolute last way a nation ought to go about solving their problems.

If you haven't been in a war and are wondering how long it takes to get used to losing everything you think you need or love, I can tell you the answer is no time at all.

You didn't know I could do that, did you? he asked, conversationally. I did not, Your Majesty, Teleus gasped. My grandfather killed a man that way once, using the edge of the wooden sword. I hadn't realized the Thieves of Eddis were so warlike. They aren't, mostly. But like all men, Teleus, I have two grandfathers. Teleus rolled his eyes to look up at him, and the king said, One of mine was Eddis. Ah, said Teleus. Ah, indeed, said the king.

Coming from light into the dark, he was looking ahead of him, not down at me. My lunge, as I came to my feet, took him in the chest as I drove the sword upward with the strength of my legs. Even rusted, the sword slid through him, and I found, for the first time, how easy it is to kill a man.

This is not some silly game...This is life and death Angels and demons.

Or until one side or another found some weapon so vile, so destructive, that it would sweep from the Western Front to the Eastern Front in a path of lunatic carnage, leaving nothing alive on the entire continent . . . and he no longer had the illusion that such a weapon, if found, would not be used.

I was beginning to learn that praise was not just a form of worship or prayer, but also a way of waging spiritual warfare.

But his mind saw nothing of all this. His mind was engaged in a warfare of the gods. His mind paced outwards over no-man's-land, over the fields of the slain, paced to the rhythm of the blood's red bugles. To be alone and evil! To be a god at bay. What was more absolute?

Of Swelter's acreage, only a perch or two here and there might, if broken, prove vulnerable loam. That he bled profusely could prove little. There was blood in him to revitalize an anaemic army, with enough left over to cool the guns. Placed end to end, his blood vessels might have coiled up the Tower of Flints and half way down again like a Virginia creeper -- a vampire's home from home.