Quotes About Soldier

by the members of the Hotamitanio, or Dog Soldier Society.

The dream of peace, you understand, is a dream that comforts everyone except the soldier on the battlefield. He can't think about peace. He can't hesitate. The soldier lives in the war. In combat, war is his mother, his friend and his god. To believe in anything else is suicide.

It's hard for me to imagine that some people in the CIA who had firsthand knowledge would be unable to recognize that this would be helpful information for a soldier's death.

Every French soldier carriers a marshal's baton in his knapsack.

Even the most absent minded Soldier will develope a memory like a elephant when mistreated.

Theres nothing like being a soldier for confidence or learning your limits or enduring utter humiliation.

That vigilant, enterprising, and patriotic soldier, General T. J. Jackson, whose steadiness under fire at the first battle of Manassas had procured for him the sobriquet of "Stonewall," was then on duty as district commander of the Shenandoah Valley.

A last red ray lighting up that stern soldier-like head, on which the tonsure lay like a cicatrised wound from the blow of a club; then the ray faded away and the priest, now wrapped in shadow, seemed nothing more than a black silhouette against the ashy grey of the gloaming.

Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast— Grant God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest! Please God, might I behold him In epauletted white— I should not fear the foe then— I should not fear the fight!

Put a hat on the soldier. The soldiers don't need to have an egg for breakfast, unless you want to buy breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for the next eighteen years. Let's have fun, but keep it safe.

Another volunteer Negro soldier named Scott Thomas reported that he had been owned by John Rice, probably also a son of Dangerfield Rice, brother of James Porter Rice, and uncle of my great-grandfather Will Rice.

My father being a soldier, every time I saw soldiers marching - 'Well,' I thought, 'my father's that,' and these soldiers were always looking magnificent. And I thought they were powerful; they were all-powerful. I knew that they were an elite in India.

When we first met, I was probably six layers down in the military structure, but General McChrystal at that time was a soldier's leader, and he was part of the task force. So everyone developed close relationships.

I follow the teachings of Major General Smedley Darlington Butler, United States Marine Corps. He won two Congressional Medals of Honor, and he wrote the highly controversial antiwar book 'War is a Racket.'

A soldier in the 5th Division wrote home, "They say cleanliness is next to Godliness. I say it's next to impossible.… If I am killed and go to hell it can't be any worse than infantry combat.

There was nothing for it but obduracy, to soldier on even for those who were not soldiers. "How hard I have become," an American Red Cross volunteer told her diary in February. "Emotions which formerly would have wracked my soul leave me almost untouched. It's a hardness of survival.

In a political democracy, every soldier's death is a public event. Every soldier's death ought to provoke the hard question: Why did he die?

Yet the war and all that the war contained—nobility, villainy, immeasurable sorrow—is certain to live on even after the last old soldier has gone to his grave. May the earth lie lightly on his bones.

The Arab soldier is interested in just three things: women, horses, and guns," a French officer told an American colonel, who replied, "The American soldier is the same, except that he doesn't care anything about horses and guns.

How I want the war to end," wrote one soldier. "The danger now begins to frighten me. To die at this stage—with the door at the end of the passage, the door into the rose garden, already in sight, ajar—would be awful.

A soldier doesn't fight to save suffering humanity or any other nonsense. He fights to prove that his unit is the best in the Army and that he has as much guts as anybody else in the unit.

So I would say God hates war, but God loves every soldier.

sombrero and carried a long breech-loading Springfield musket, and as Custer wrote in My Life on the Plains, he always rode a mule "in whose speed and

"You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's prideTouched to the quick, he said:"I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,Smiling the boy fell dead.