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Soldiers Quotes

Browse 277 quotes about Soldiers.

Soldiers Quotes

“Our best analyst thinks it's not a tactical design. Something for mall ninjas.... Young men who dress to feel they'll be mistaken for having special capability. A species of cosplay, really. Endemic. Lots of boys are playing soldier now. The men who run the world aren't, and neither are the boys most effectively bent on running it next. Or the ones who're actually having to be soldiers, of course. But many of the rest have gone gear-queer, to one extent or another.”

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Book:Zero History
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“There is nothing glorious in the death of a soldier - it's only a disgusting reminder of our petty and primitive self-centeredness, that keeps separating us from our own kind, simply because of some illusory borders created by illusory governments.”

GovernmentMilitaryPatriotismNationalismMartyrInternational RelationsOne HumanitySoldiersGeopoliticsGeopolitical Tension
Book:When Humans Unite: Making A World Without Borders
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“As Lynn writes: "What angers me is the loss of control. At any moment someone could come to me, be dressed the right way and use the right code, and I no longer have free will. I will do anything that person requests. I hate them for that. Nothing else is as bad as known that I am always out of control; knowing that I am still a laboratory experiment, a puppet whose strings are hidden from ever but my handlers, and I don't yet know how to break free. p216”

United StatesMilitaryArmyProgrammingControlFree WillManipulationSoldiersMind ControlRitual AbuseGovernment AbusePsychological AbuseMkultraOrganized AbuseOrganised AbusePuppet
Book:Secret Weapons: How Two Sisters Were Brainwashed to Kill for Their Country
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“More proof that Lynn is still meant to continue with the government programme occurred during the winter of 2000, when she was sitting at a cafeteria table at the area college. It was later in the afternoon when a few people congregated there with books spread out so they could study while drinking coffee or snacking. Many tables were empty, yet after Lynn had been sitting for a few moments, an elderly man sat down across from her. The old man seemed familiar to Lynn, though, at first, she pretended to ignore him. He said nothing, just sat there as someone might when all the tables are filled and it is necessary to share space with a stranger. His presence made her uncomfortable, yet there was nothing specific that alerted her. A short while later, Mac, the man who had been Lynn's handler in Mexico, came out of the shadows and stopped at the table. He was younger than the old man. His clothes were military casual, the type of garments that veteran students who have military experience might recognise, but not think unusual. He leaned over Lynn and kissed her gently on the forehead, spoke quietly to her, and then said 'Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.' Those were the code words that would start the cover programme of which she was still part. The words led to her being switched from the control of the old man, a researcher she now believes may have been part of Dr Ewen Cameron's staff before coming to the United States for the latter part of his career, to the younger man. The change is like a re-enlistment in an army she never willingly joined. In a very real way, she is a career soldier who has never been paid, never allowed to retire and never given a chance to lead a life free from the fear of what she might do without conscious awareness.”

United StatesMilitaryArmyProgrammingSoldiersMind ControlRitual AbuseGovernment AbusePsychological AbuseMkultraOrganized AbuseOrganised Abuse
Book:Secret Weapons: How Two Sisters Were Brainwashed to Kill for Their Country
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“Soldiers,' he made an insult of the word. 'Once we were crusaders Khayon, and now we're warriors, but we were never soldiers. Keep that foolishness to yourself.' I swallowed my argument, following his train of thought. It was not the first time legionaries have disagreed over those semantics, and it would be far from the last. Some believed soldiering came down to discipline, or fighting for a state or a leader rather than for yourself. Some believed warriorhood was a matter of heart that elevated them above a soldier's station, while others considered it a state of barbarity that dragged them beneath it. Some questions have no answers. No matter how seriously we took warfare, no matter how adamantly we clung to our disciplined roots as a Space Marine Legion, many of our number were ultimately the raiders and marauders that time had made them. For better or worse, we would never have the ironclad discipline of a Throne-loyal Adeptus Astartes force. Even back then, we had lost much of the discipline we had once possessed as Legions of the Great Crusade.”

DisciplineWarfareSoldiersWarriorsWarhammer 40kChaos Space MarinesWarfare Quotes000Warhammer 40
Book:Black Legion
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“He asks me if I'd ever killed someone and rushes from the kitchen table, but I ask him to stay, to listen. "Collateral Damage," I say, "is the polite way of expressing the death of civilians who unknowingly mingle with the enemy." He's thirteen now, fascinated with video games glamorizing real wars. I rise to leave, and he says, "But Dad, you didn't answer my question." I did.”

WarMilitaryWarfareSoldiersFather And SonCollateral DamageMilitary Families
Book:My American Night
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“Amantes Assemble Sonnet 82 I am a soldier, I am a reformer. What will I do with a long life! If you wanna bless me with something, Bless me, O Nature, with courage to die with smile. Life and death are civilian affair. A reformer works each day with coffin in pocket. There'll be no life for any of the civilians, If the reformer slips into drunken enjoyment. A reformer doesn't know what is a hangover, Because a reformer is never sober. Drunkenness of booze wears off in a day, Drunkenness of sacrifice lasts through millennia. The selfish drink to seek escape. The reformer is too free to need such cheap help.”

Service Of HumanityPublic ServiceSoldiersMartyrdomSocial ReformSacrifice For OthersReformistHumanitarian PoemReformer PoetryAltruistic Poem
Book:Amantes Assemble: 100 Sonnets of Servant Sultans
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“It was strange to see the enemy up close, and at length. I could see fear in their faces - the knowledge that they could be cut down at any moment - but also a willingness to accept that fate in order to perform their solemn tasks. The fighters were young, as soldiers always are, dark beards beneath chestnut eyes. They were of Pashtun origin, but whether from Afghanistan or Pakistan, I could not tell. I only knew that they were the enemy, and when they returned with weapons, then we would kill them.”

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Book:No Way Out: The Searing True Story of Men Under Siege
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“Honor He Wrote Sonnet 8 Give me a spark of your nerves, I'll turn it into thunder strike. Give me a tremor of your lips, I'll turn it into landslide. Give me a teardrop of your eyes, I'll turn it into tsunami. Give me the sweat of your labor, I'll turn it into hydroelectricity. Give me a beat of your heart, I'll turn it into an earthquake. Give me a touch of your fingers, I'll turn it into society’s duct tape. Ingredients of reform are born of your veins. Renounce your apathy and reform will rain.”

Social JusticeService Of HumanitySocial ResponsibilitySociologySocial WorkPolitical ScienceSoldiersReformerSacrifice For OthersHumanitarian Poetry
Book:Honor He Wrote: 100 Sonnets For Humans Not Vegetables
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“I believe war should be the last result, but I do believe that when we find ourselves at war, we should unite as a people and not do anything to aid or encourage the enemy. We should stay the course and remember that the people we are defending, though they may not always be Americans, are people dependent upon us to see the conflict through to an end.”

WarHistoryBooksVeteranVietnam WarSoldiersTrue StoryLanny Starr
Book:Vietnam Diary: A Memoir for my Posterity
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“As night fell, Yamamoto, aboard the huge battleship Yamato, steamed eastward at full speed into the night. Far ahead the destroyers went to flank speed to search for the US carriers. Lookouts, with the best night-vision binoculars in the world, swept the night horizon where the very dark sky meets the black ocean. The faintest shape, the tiniest pinprick of light, would show there was something out there, like the superstructure of a ship over the horizon. There was nothing.”

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Book:Diplomats & Admirals: From Failed Negotiations and Tragic Misjudgments to Powerful Leaders and Heroic Deeds, the Untold Story of the Pacific War from Pearl Harbor to Midway
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“… It was an astonishing situation, a tragedy unique in history. What terror had driven these peace-loving people to seek refuge in such a wilderness? Even grass had become scarce along the track. Scanty patches of grass had been eaten clean and transport animals, already showing signs of exhaustion were far from their journey’s end. … the constant flicker of lightning and the distant growl of thunder wasominous. In the small hours the storm burst upon us. Hastily rolling up bedding we took refuge wherever we could, in or under the lorries standing round. There together with many Indians we sat huddled and waited for the dawn. Dr Russell”

GovernmentArmyPlanesNavyWwiiStrugglesSoldiersFlyA Disintegrating TrackThreatening Weather
Book:EXTRAORDINARY TRUE STORIES OF SURVIVAL IN BURMA WW2: tens of thousands fled to India from the Japanese Invasion in 1942
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“For us lads of eighteen they ought to have been mediators and guides to the world of maturity, the world of work, of duty, of culture, of progress - to the future. We often made fun of them and played jokes on them, but in our hearts we trusted them. The idea of authority, which they represented, was associated in our minds with a greater insight and a more humane wisdom. But the first death we saw shattered this belief. We had to recognize that our generation was more to be trusted than theirs. They surpassed us only in phrases and in cleverness. The first bombardment showed us our mistake, and under it the world as they had taught it to us broke in pieces. While they continued to write and talk, we saw the wounded and dying. While they taught that duty to one's country is the greatest thing, we already knew that death-throes are stronger. But for all that we were no mutineers, no deserters, no cowards - they were very free with all these expressions. We loved our country as much as they; we went courageously into every action; but also we distinguished the false from true, we had suddenly learned to see. And we saw that there was nothing of their world left. We were all at once terribly alone; and alone we must see it through.”

World War ISoldiersDisillusionmentLost Youth
Book:All quiet on the western front
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“All through the crowd were men in uniform, sailors from the great fleet anchored in the Hudson, soldiers with divisional insignia from Massachusetts to California, wanting fearfully to be noticed, and finding the great city thoroughly fed up with soldiers unless they were nicely massed into pretty formations and uncomfortable under the weight of a pack and rifle. Through this medley Dean and Gordon wandered; the former interested, made alert by the display of humanity at its frothiest and gaudiest; the latter reminded of how often he had been one of the crown, tired, casually fed, overworked, and dissipated. To Dean the struggle was significant, young, cheerful; to Gordon it was dismal, meaningless, endless.”

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Book:May Day
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“The Petriana’s tribune dismounted a dozen paces short of the gate and stalked up to the palisade wall with a grim smile, squinting up at Scaurus and his officers and then glancing back at the men building the pyre on the plain below the fortress. He called up to them, shielding his eyes with a raised hand. ‘Well now, colleague, I see you’ve accomplished your orders with the usual efficiency. Perhaps you ought to come down here and join me, though. I’ve something to tell you that will give you some pause for thought.’ Scaurus climbed down from the wall after instructing Julius to keep the men inside the Dinpaladyr at their tasks. ‘You’d better come with me, Centurion Corvus, I suspect I’m going to need someone to take notes of whatever it is my brother tribune has to tell me. I may well be too busy banging my head on the palisade in frustration.”

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Book:Fortress of Spears
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“In the murk ahead of them a pair of blazing torches indicated the entrance to the forum, with a pair of sentries standing guard in front of the high archway. Before the tribune had any chance to explain their presence to the surprised soldiers a legion centurion walked out of the courtyard beyond them, stopping with a start of surprise when he saw the newcomers. Staring with narrowed eyes at the three centurions’ unfamiliar armour and crested helmets, he was further taken aback when he realised who it was they were escorting. Scaurus allowed the silence to play out for a few seconds, watching the calculation in the legion officer’s face before speaking in an acerbic tone designed to communicate his status. ‘Yes, Centurion, this is a senior officer’s uniform, and yes, Centurion, you’re supposed to have your hand in the air some time about now.’ The other man saluted quickly, his face reddening with embarrassment, while the sentries worked hard but not entirely successfully at keeping the smirks off their faces. ‘I’m sorry, Prefect, it’s just that we weren’t expecting to receive any reinforcement.’ Marcus looked at Julius, wondering if his colleague was going to correct the legion man’s mistaken identification, but his questioning gaze was answered only by a slight shake of the big man’s head. Scaurus nodded to the centurion, looking over his shoulder at the dimly visible administrative building on the other side of the forum’s open courtyard. ‘That’s perfectly understandable, Centurion, because we’re not reinforcements. If you’ll show me to your tribune . . .?”

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Book:The Leopard Sword
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“Patriotism 101: How To Murder Like A Pro (Sonnet 2445) Murder is an art, if you do it properly you can not only get away, but actually be praised for it. First and foremost, lock your brain and heart up in the cupboard, you don't need them, and join a military kennel, oops, I mean academy, spend all your conscious days and nights finding reasons to hate those beyond the border, and you don't need to search hard, because since you've already abandoned civilized senses, your animal instincts would take over, and deliver you the enemy as per the government requirement - you just need to make sure that, never for a second you must let the human in you take charge, because if it does, that's the end of all patriotic glory.”

MilitaryPatriotismNationalismPatrioticFundamentalismPeace ActivistSoldiersDemilitarizationNuclear DisarmamentNationalist
Book:Sonnets From The Mountaintop
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“It’s like a man in the trenches again: he doesn’t know any more why he should go on living, because if he escapes now he’ll only be caught later, but he goes on just the same, and even though he has the soul of a cockroach and has admitted as much to himself, give him a gun or a knife or even just his bare nails, and he’ll go on slaughtering and slaughtering, he’d slaughter a million men rather than stop and ask himself why.”

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Book:Tropic of Cancer
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“When they referred to their soldiers killed on the battlefield, they sometimes said that they were martyred, and sometimes said they were murdered. I wondered how differently Americans would see wars if the press and the people spoke of our troops in the firing line as having died in a homicide rather than killed in action. The rain fell harder, and bullets flew wildly into the growing darkness that hid the dead ISIS bodies nearby. Hungry, untamed dogs had gouged into the skeletons almost immediately. Some had been dead for days. Some had names and others had been left nameless. Some, maculated by the creatures howling at the moon, had no faces.”

WarMartyrIsisSoldiers
Book:Only Cry For The Living
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“One of the Pima warriors on seeing the fire-arms used by the white soldiers, thought that the next time he went over to the [Maricopa] Wells, he would take his war weapons along and show them to the white soldiers. So the next time he went, he took along his war-club and shield. The soldiers on seeing his weapons, laughed and made all sorts of remarks as to the effective use of such weapons. The joking went on until the Pima made a challenge to the white man. He said: 'You, white warrior Take shooting iron. Stand here ready. I take war club and shield, Step off ten paces, Turn around, come back. If you see any part of me, Shoot!' The White soldier stood there with gun in hand while the Pima walked away ten paces, turned around and came back hiding behind the shield so well that no part of his body could be seen. The white soldier did not shoot as the Pima came up to him. With the edge of his shield the Pima knocked the gun out of the soldier's hand. He lifted his war club as if he was about to use it. But the soldier took to his heels and ran into a nearby house, closing the door after him. The people who saw this had a good laugh and no such challenge was ever made again. Sometimes there would be shooting contests between Pimas and whites, Pimas with their bows and arrows and the whites with their firearms. They would place a target at different distances and see who could hit the bull's eye. The Pimas often won the match. They often won prizes of a pair of Army pants or a coat. At other times, foot races were held at the Post. The Pimas always won the long distance races, but lost the short dashes. [page 40, Early Days]”

SoldiersArizonaNative AmericansSouthwestWhite PeoplePimaO OdhamBow And ArrowsMaricopa
Book:A Pima Remembers
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“Mellas was transported outside himself, beyond himself. It was as if his mind watched eveything coolly while his body raced wildly with passion and fear. He was frightened beyond any fear he had ever known. But this brilliant and intense fear, this terrible here and now, combined with the crucial significance of every movement of his body, pushed him over a barrier whose existence he had not known about until this moment. He gave himself over completely to the god of war within him.”

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Book:Matterhorn
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“Isolation of catastrophic experiences. Dissociation may function to seal off overwhelming trauma into a compartmentalized area of conscious until the person is better able to integrate it into mainstream consciousness. The function of dissociation is particularly common in survivors of combat, political torture, or natural or transportation disasters.”

ConsciousnessPsychologyMemoryTraumaTortureSurvivorCombatCatastropheSoldiersDissociationAmnesiaDissociativeTrauma SurvivorsPolitical PrisonersComplex TraumaDissociatedConcentration CampsConcentration Camp Survivor
Author:Marlene Steinberg
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“He bared thick teeth. ‘I am Zacchariah. My price will be right. You show me now?’ In that moment, ten generations of horse-traders counted for more than half a lifetime in the legions. I was my father made young again, itching to make a sale. Abandoning the Eagle – I was a horse-trader, what did I care for a gold bird on a stick, however venerated by the Hebrews? – I gathered Pantera and Horgias about me, and trekked back to the inn of the Cedar Tree. Along the way, we collected Zacchariah’s well-muscled younger relatives, three other, unrelated, horse merchants who gazed at him with undisguised venom, a woman who claimed she could more accurately assess the sex of the foal our pregnant mare carried, a bone-setter who set to arguing with Horgias but gave up when his poor Greek met Horgias’ worse Greek – and Nicodemus and his seven zealots who stood about as we conducted our business, obviously waiting for a chance to inflict violence upon us.”

HumourSoldiersAncient RomeSpiesJudea
Book:Rome: The Eagle of the Twelfth
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“Be The Unpatriot (Naskaristana 2803) One soldier's medal is another soldier's widow, one soldier's glory is another soldier's orphan. One nation's victory is another nation's mourning, one family's felicitation is another family's trauma. Soldiers pay the price, civilians pay the price, but one particular creature always comes out with a profit, it's the politicians - there's a fortune in warmongering, if they can just sell fear in the name of patriotic duty. So here I am, the idiot earthling, begging you on my knees - grow up, be human enough to be the unpatriot, be a stain upon the nation's flag. If your corpse can be covered with just one flag, it's a sacrifice wasted in political theatre - when nations join hands to honor your fall, know that you've finally ascended human.”

PatriotismNationalismMartyrSoldiersGeopoliticsWarmongersWarmongeringAnti NationalismDemilitarization Peace Activist
Book:Tierra Carta: Naskar Charter of Earth
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“Ne'er Fade Away by Stewart Stafford The hillside piper's requiem, Guides old soldier's bones, To slain brothers of his youth, No longer a marching memory. His scars, Valhalla's roadmap, His medals, coins for Charon, His conquests, the beacon fire, His blood scours the path ahead. This churned earth is now home, Weeping craters, foxholes beatified, Barbed wire hands joined in praying, The minefield of life cleared for us all. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

WarDeathSoldierSoldiersVeteransRemembrance DayArmistice DayWar PoetryWar PoemsAnzac Day
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Forget bringing the troops home from Iraq. We need to get the troops home from World War II. Can anybody tell me why, in 2009, we still have more than sixty thousand troops in Germany and thirty thousand in Japan? At some point, these people are going to have to learn to rape themselves. Our soldiers have been in Germany so long they now wear shorts with black socks. You know that crazy soldier hiding in the cave on Iwo Jima who doesn’t know the war is over? That’s us. Bush and Cheney used to love to keep Americans all sphinctered-up on the notion that terrorists might follow us home. But actually, we’re the people who go to your home and then never leave. Here’s the facts: The Republic of America has more than five hundred thousand military personnel deployed on more than seven hundred bases, with troops in one hundred fifty countries—we’re like McDonald’s with tanks—including thirty-seven European countries—because you never know when Portugal might invade Euro Disney. And this doesn’t even count our secret torture prisons, which are all over the place, but you never really see them until someone brings you there—kinda like IHOP. Of course, Americans would never stand for this in reverse—we can barely stand letting Mexicans in to do the landscaping. Can you imagine if there were twenty thousand armed Guatemalans on a base in San Ber-nardino right now? Lou Dobbs would become a suicide bomber. And why? How did this country get stuck with an empire? I’m not saying we’re Rome. Rome had good infrastructure. But we are an empire, and the reason is because once America lands in a country, there is no exit strategy. We’re like cellulite, herpes, and Irish relatives: We are not going anywhere. We love you long time!”

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Book:The New New Rules: A Funny Look at How Everybody but Me Has Their Head Up Their Ass
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“Many veterans feel guilty because they lived while others died. Some feel ashamed because they didn’t bring all their men home and wonder what they could have done differently to save them. When they get home they wonder if there’s something wrong with them because they find war repugnant but also thrilling. They hate it and miss it.Many of their self-judgments go to extremes. A comrade died because he stepped on an improvised explosive device and his commander feels unrelenting guilt because he didn’t go down a different street. Insurgents used women and children as shields, and soldiers and Marines feel a totalistic black stain on themselves because of an innocent child’s face, killed in the firefight. The self-condemnation can be crippling. The Moral Injury, New York Times. Feb 17, 2015”

WarHorrorShameGuiltAshamedPtsdSoldiersVeteransPost Traumatic Stress DisorderCombat PtsdSurvivor GuiltWar Trauma
Author:David Brooks
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“It brings a lump into the throat to see how they go over, and run and fall. A man would like to spank them, they are so stupid, and to take them by the arm and lead them away from here where they have no business to be. They wear grey coats and trousers and boots, but for most of them the uniform is far too big, it hangs on their limbs, their shoulders are too narrow, their bodies too slight; no uniform was ever made to these childish measurements.”

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Book:All quiet on the western front
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