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Soldiers Quotes

Browse 277 quotes about Soldiers.

Soldiers Quotes

“I didn’t have memories, new I made, this, beneath ancient evergreen Populus trees… Yes, evergreen Populus trees always are, yet with cold I’m not one that’s well known to spar… With gentle headstrongness I made my own path, with which I can get to the forest(, like Plath)… In forests, folk sparce are, yet all of the trees, growing like soldiers, to be many are free…”

GrowthMemoriesAncientFreeTreesForestSoldiersSylvia PlathPopulusHeadstrongness
Book:На чист Български...: Pristine Bulgarian sayings...
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“He must do more than issue orders. The general must appeal to the best that is within his soldiers. The response to trust and confidence is trust and confidence. A commander who gives men an opportunity to prove themselves will be rewarded with brave deeds. Give people their dignity and they surpass all expectations. Reduce a man to slavery and his efforts will be as meager as his stake is small. In war as in economics, freedom is decisive. (And freedom means, first and foremost, the dignity of the thinking man).”

DignitySlaveryBraveSoldiersCommander
Author:J.R.Nyquist
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“Lengo kuu la Kolonia Santita kuuza madawa hayo ni kuwafadhili askari wa msituni wa Kolombia (magorila wa vyama visivyokuwa rasmi vya kisiasa au vyama haramu vya kisiasa) kushika hatamu za uongozi wa Kolombia, kwa makubaliano ya Kolonia Santita kutawala biashara ya kokeini ya taifa hilo la Amerika ya Kusini. WODEA lazima ilizuie Shirika la Madawa ya Kulevya la Kolonia Santita kuuza madawa hayo kwa gharama yoyote ile, pesa au damu, kutetea afya na amani ya dunia.”

PurposePeaceMoneyBloodHealthMotiveDrugsSoldiersColombiaSouth AmericaGuerrillasAmaniKolonia SantitaPesaDamuAfyaLengoWodeaMadawaAmerika Ya KusiniKolombiaAskari Wa MsituniCocaine BusinessAskariBiashara Ya KokeiniHatamu Za UongoziHatamu Za Uongozi Wa KolombiaIllegal Political PartiesJungle SoldiersMagorilaReins Of PowerReins Of Power Of ColombiaVyama Haramu Vya Kisiasa
Author:Enock Maregesi
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“The victims of PTSD often feel morally tainted by their experiences, unable to recover confidence in their own goodness, trapped in a sort of spiritual solitary confinement, looking back at the rest of the world from beyond the barrier of what happened. They find themselves unable to communicate their condition to those who remained at home, resenting civilians for their blind innocence. The Moral Injury, New York Times. Feb 17, 2015”

WarMilitaryMoralityShameGuiltTraumaMoralsPtsdAlienationSoldiersTraumatic ExperiencesTaintedTraumatizedMoral ResponsibilityOutsiderVeteransPost Traumatic Stress DisorderCombat PtsdAlienatedVeterans Survivor Guilt
Author:David Brooks
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“People generally don’t suffer high rates of PTSD after natural disasters. Instead, people suffer from PTSD after moral atrocities. Soldiers who’ve endured the depraved world of combat experience their own symptoms. Trauma is an expulsive cataclysm of the soul. The Moral Injury, New York Times. Feb 17, 2015”

WarSoulMilitaryMoralityShameGuiltTraumaCombatMoralsChild AbuseWarfarePtsdSexual AbuseRapeSoldiersDepravedMoral ResponsibilityVeteransPost Traumatic Stress DisorderCataclysmCombat PtsdNatural DisastersSurvivor GuiltImmoral ActWar TraumaMoral AtrocitiesSexual Assailed
Author:David Brooks
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“At the edge of the field Silva and Stefan witnessed heartrending images in greyscale as thousands of desperate refugees streamed down the road in leaden shades of melancholy.  This somber line of tired and dirty humans moved so close together that they jostled each other with each step; their random movements reminded Silva of corks bobbing in a slow moving stream.  They watched them pass from the side of the road, but eventually fell-in, trudging along with the suffering others, feeling safer in numbers, hoping for a destination worth finding.”

WarFictionHistoryDramaDeceptionInsecurityAnguishFast PacedSoldiers
Book:Magenta
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“I have gone to war and now I can issue my complaint. I can sit on my porch and complain all day. And you must listen. Some of you will say to me: You signed the contract, you crying bitch, and you fought in a war because of your signature, no one held a gun to your head. This is true, but because I signed the contract and fulfilled my obligation to fight one of America’s wars, I am entitled to speak, to say, I belong to a fucked situation.”

WarSoldiers
Book:Jarhead : A Marine's Chronicle of the Gulf War and Other Battles
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“Our enemies are Medes and Persians, men who for centuries have lived soft and luxurious lives; we of Macedon for generations past have been trained in the hard school of danger and war. Above all, we are free men, and they are slaves. There are Greek troops, to be sure, in Persian service — but how different is their cause from ours! They will be fighting for pay — and not much of at that; we, on the contrary, shall fight for Greece, and our hearts will be in it. As for our foreign troops — Thracians, Paeonians, Illyrians, Agrianes — they are the best and stoutest soldiers in Europe, and they will find as their opponents the slackest and softest of the tribes of Asia. And what, finally, of the two men in supreme command? You have Alexander, they — Darius!”

WarFreedomDangerBattleSpeechTrainingLuxuryGreekFreeAsiaGreeceEnemiesSoldiersSlavesPersiaDariusPersiansMacedonMedesThracians
Author:Alexander the Great
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“But there was definitely something going on. Helen had agreed. With Harry and Sly taking off before they even ate dinner that night before, there had to be. I’m glad I have Joanie and the others. I need the support, and the calming influence. They are just the ones to give me peace. Just as she was about to drift off with that comforting thought, the front door flew open and Joan burst in breathless. “Annie!” she said, turning to her. “I think that Nazi guy is right here in town!”

WarSpySoldiers
Book:Glorious Christmas
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“Yet I now ask of you—are you marauders or are you servants? Do you give power to others, or do you hoard it? Do you fight not to have something, but rather fight so that others might one day have something? Is your blade a part of your soul, or is it a burden, a tool, to be used with care? Are you soldiers, my children, or are you savages?”

WarPowerViolenceMilitaryWeaponsBraveryServiceImperialismConquestSoldiersMilitarismJingoismSoldieringSoldiery
Book:City of Blades
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“The sergeants are shunted forward and they blink and stare up at Gonzo as he leans on the edge of his giant mixing bowl. MacArthur never addressed his troops from a mixing bowl--not even one made from a spare geodesic radio emplacement shell--and certainly de Gaulle never did. But Gonzo Lubitsch does, and he does it as if a whole long line of commanders were standing at his shoulder, urging him on. "Gentlemen," says Gonzo softly, "holidays are over. I need an oven, and I need one in about twenty minutes, or these fine flapjacks will go to waste, and that is not happening." And something about this statement and the voice in which he says it makes it clear that this is simply true. One way or another, this thing will get done. Under a layer of grime and horror, these two are soldiers, and more, they are productive, can-do sorts of people. Rustily but with a gratitude which is not so far short of worship, they say "Yes, sir" and are about their business.”

WarHumorCookingSoldiersPancakesFlapjacks
Book:The Gone-Away World
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“Twelve years ago, when I was 10, I played at being a soldier. I walked up the brook behind our house in Bronxville to a junglelike, overgrown field and dug trenches down to water level with my friends. Then, pretending that we were doughboys in France, we assaulted one another with clods of clay and long, dry reeds. We went to the village hall and studied the rust rifles and machine guns that the Legion post had brought home from the First World War and imagined ourselves using them to fight Germans. But we never seriously thought that we would ever have to do it. The stories we heard later; the Depression veterans with their apple stands on sleety New York street corners; the horrible photographs of dead bodies and mutilated survivors; “Johnny Got His Gun” and the shrill college cries of the Veterans of Future Wars drove the small-boy craving for war so far from our minds that when it finally happened, it seemed absolutely unbelievable. If someone had told a small boy hurling mud balls that he would be throwing hand grenades twelve years later, he would probably have been laughed at. I have always been glad that I could not look into the future.”

WarSoldiers
Book:Parachute Infantry: An American Paratrooper's Memoir of D-Day and the Fall of the Third Reich
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“We piled aboard the small chopper and after a bit of map pointing to the pilot we lifted off. "I love the RAF," said Jed. "I love them too, sir," said I. After a short flight the chopper landed. We all got out and waved our thanks and farewells to the crew and Major Jenner checked his map. After a quick examination he announced that we had been dropped in the wrong place. "I fucking hate the RAF," said Jed. "I fucking hate them too, sir," said I.”

WarHumorSoldiersFalklandsRafParatroopers
Book:A Soldiers Song: True Stories From The Falklands
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“During the few months Troy had been back home, he’d told his friends about us, and so we quickly eased into the conversation as though we’d all known each other for many years. They embarrassed us with great thanks for having served overseas. They recounted combat events Troy had told them, and we realized by the context of their stories that Troy had made us heroes for his friends because we’d been heroes to him. At this point I was the saddest I’d yet been over Troy’s passing, because the true friend from war is the friend who obliterates his own story by telling the stories of others.”

WarSoldiers
Book:Jarhead : A Marine's Chronicle of the Gulf War and Other Battles
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“I suppose some things seem obscure, Mister Brown, but really, they're quite obvious, aren't they?' said Mr. Forbes. 'Once they've been pointed out, of course. Either by genius before the fact, or, as is more often the case, after the fact by disaster. Don't you think so?...For instance, Mr. Brown, here's some after-the-fact wisdom, if you like. Taken from the Italian campaign. Taught by disaster.' The smaller force, he said, had of necessity always to be made of men who, though they believed many things, must believe but two. Number one, each soldier must believe that he is engaged in a struggle in which he and his comrades are morally right and their opposition is morally wrong. No middle way. No room to negotiate a compromise. It couldn't be a simple dispute over land. Basic principles, not mere borders, must be at stake. And number two, he must believe that he is fighting for his own life and for the lives of his loved ones. So that the only imaginable alternative to his participating in this dreadful war is death for him and his loved ones. No going home for a season to harvest the olives and the grapes.”

WarBeliefStrategySoldiers
Book:Cloudsplitter
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“When we came here, we came from our mothers and our sweethearts. We were still used to our mothers with their work-hard arms that could clout the strongest of us and leave our ears ringing. And we courted our sweethearts in the country way. Slow, with the fields that ripen at harvest. Fierce, with the sows that rut the earth. Here, without women, with only our imaginations and a handful of whores, we can’t remember what it is about women that can turn a man through passion into something holy. Bible words again, but I am thinking of my father, who shaded his eyes on those sunburnt evenings and learned to take his time with my mother. I am thinking of my mother with her noisy heart and of all the women waiting in the fields for the men who drowned yesterday and all the mothers’ sons who have taken their place. We never think of them here. We think of their bodies and now and then we talk about home but we don’t think of them as they are; the most solid, the best loved, the well known. They go on. Whatever we do or undo, they go on.”

WarSoldiersThe Passion
Author:janette winterson
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“New recruits cry when they come here and they think about their mothers and their sweethearts and they think about going home. They remember what it is about home that holds their hearts; not sentiment or show but faces they love. Most of these recruits aren’t seventeen and they’re asked to do in a few weeks. What vexes the best philosophers for a lifetime; that is, to gather of their passion for life and make sense of it in the face of death. They don’t know how, but they do know how to forget, and little by little they put aside the burning summer in their body, and all they have instead is lust and rage.”

WarSoldiersThe Passion
Author:janette winterson
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“My mother shaved my head ahead of my vaccinations. She thought the buzz of the clippers concealed her almost silent sobs, and I let her believe it did. I am poor, unmarried. I didn't high school, just screwed around in the countryside for a few years working where I could, chasing girls. This means that I am expendable, a "zero soldier". Zero education, zero special skills, zero responsibilities outside of my country.”

WarSoldiers
Book:Martyr!
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“Heus jongen, de reden om te vechten doet er nooit toe. Die is altijd een smoes. Net als bij jullie mensen.' Ik begreep niet wat ze bedoelde. 'Mensen?' vroeg ik. 'Mensen worden toch niet gegoten?' Ze keek me aan. 'Jawel,' zei ze. 'Jawel jongen, ook mensen worden gegoten.' Ik dacht dat ze me voor de gek hield, maar ze ging door: 'En bij dat gieten gaat het om de eerste druppel: die wint, en dat winnen zit in het bloed. Daar blijven ze hun leven lang om vechten. Op leven en dood. Ze kunnen het niet helpen.”

WarSoldiersDutch
Book:De soldatenmaker
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“The reality of combat always exceeds the boundaries of imagination. Every battle is an amalgamation of a thousand personal battles, and each man's fight a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, and smells that burn into his consciousness and echo for as long as his life lasts. A man excited to rage runs across a smoky stubble field. One moment he is bounding ahead on eager legs. A second later he is shocked to find the ground leaping up to dash him rudely in the mouth. His teeth clack, he tastes the gritty soil. He gasps for air. Hot liquid seeps ominously from his belly. Sounds echo and recede. An idea quivers on the edge of his mind. A word forms on his dry tongue. No breath to voice it. The sun shines on him from a night sky.”

WarBattleCombatSoldiers
Author:Jack Kelly
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“A crutch waved out of the window; bandaged forearms made the Red Salute. It was like an allegorical picture of war; the trainload of fresh men gliding proudly up the line, the maimed men sliding slowly down, and all the while the guns on the open trucks making one's heart leap as guns always do, and reviving that pernicious feeling, so difficult to get rid of, that war is glorious after all.”

WarGlorySoldiers
Book:Homage to Catalonia
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“The Unknown Soldier A tale to tell in bloody rhyme, A story to last ’til the dawn of end’s time. Of a loving boy who left dear home, To bear his countries burdens; her honor to sow. –A common boy, I say, who left kith and kin, To battle der Kaiser and all that was therein. The Arsenal of Democracy was his kind, –To make the world safe–was their call and chime. Trained he thus in the far army camps, Drilled he often in the march and stamp. Laughed he did with new found friends, Lived they together for the noble end. Greyish mottled images clipp’ed and hack´ed– Black and white broke drum Ʀ…ɧ..λ..t…ʮ..m..ȿ —marching armies off to ’ttack. Images scratched, chopped, theatrical exaggerate, Confetti parades, shouts of high praise To where hell would sup and partake with all bon hope as the transport do them take Faded icons board the ship– To steel them away collaged together –joined in spirit and hip. Timeworn humanity of once what was To broker peace in eagles and doves. Mortal clay in the earth but to grapple and smite As warbirds ironed soar in heaven’s light. All called all forward to divinities’ kept date, Heroes all–all aces and fates. Paris–Used to sing and play at some cards, A common Joe everybody knew from own heart. He could have been called ‘the kid’ by the ‘old man,’ But a common private now taking orders to stand. Receiving letters from his shy sweet one, Read them over and over until they faded to none. Trained like hell with his Commander-in-Arms, –To avoid the dangers of a most bloody harm. Aye, this boy was mortal, true enough said, He could be one of thousands alive but now surely dead. How he sang and cried and ate the gruel of rations, And grumbled as soldiers do at war’s great contagions. Out–out to the battle this young did go, To become a man; the world to show. (An ocean away his mother cried so– To return her boy safe as far as the heavens go). Lay he down in trenched hole, With balls bursting overhead upon the knoll. Listened hardnfast to the “Sarge” bearing the news, —“We’re going over soon—” was all he knew. The whistle blew; up and over they went, Charging the Hun, his life to be spent (“Avoid the gas boys that’ll blister yer arse!!”). Running through wires razored and deadened trees, Fell he into a gouge to find in shelter of need (They say he bayoneted one just as he–, face to face in War’s Dance of trialed humanity). A nameless sonnuvabitch shell then did untimely RiiiiiiiP the field asunder in burrrstzʑ–and he tripped. And on the field of battle’s blood did he die, Faceless in a puddle as blurrs of ghosting men shrieked as they were fleeing by–. Perished he alone in the no man’s land, Surrounded by an army of his brother’s teeming bands . . . And a world away a mother sighed, Listened to the rain and lay down and cried. . . . Today lays the grave somber and white, Guarded decades long in both the dark and the light. Silent sentinels watch o’er and with him do walk, Speak they neither; their duty talks. Lone, stark sentries perform the unsmiling task, –Guarding this one dead–at the nation’s bequest. Cared over day and night in both rain or sun, Present changing of the guard and their duty is done (The changing of the guard ’tis poetry motioned A Nation defining itself–telling of rifles twirl-clicking under the intensest of devotions). This poem–of The Unknown, taken thus, Is rend eternal by Divinity’s Iron Trust. How he, a common soldier, gained the estate Of bearing his countries glory unto his unknown fate. Here rests in honored glory a warrior known but to God, Now rests he in peace from the conflict path he trod. He is our friend, our family, brother, our mother’s son –belongs he to us all, For he has stood in our place–heeding God’s final call.”

WarPoetryMeditationDramaQuotes To Live ByMemorial DaySoldiersVeterans DayVeterans
Author:douglas m laurent
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“Without their uniforms, they were probably nobodies, rejects. Give a man a uniform. Give him a few sparkly badges, a purpose, a gun ... and suddenly, he was no longer just another kid trying to make it through life without being ridiculed. Suddenly, he was a part of something. Something important. Something powerful. Something greater than he could ever be on his own. It was amazing how empowering the group could be.”

LifeWarLife LessonsEmpowermentConformitySoldiersGroupthinkGroup ThinkGroup DynamicsGroup MentalityConformity And AttitudeIn Group Politics
Book:If I Resist
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