Showing posts with label Germans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Germans. Show all posts

Monday, 6 May 2013

The only good reason for fighting


     A sudden, odd thought struck Mr Franklin, and it seemed doubly odd that it had only just occurred to him.
     ‘D’you think England will win this war?’
     ‘Ask them,’ said the General, and jerked his thumb at the window, grinning. Then he considered, the eyes narrowing in the flushed, ancient face. ‘Probably— yes, on balance, we ought to win. Germany can lick Russia, but not Britain and France together. But they’ll take a lot of beating, if it’s a fight to the finish. Yes, I’d say we were odds on to win — not that it matters all that much.’
     Mr Franklin stared at him in astonishment. ‘You can’t mean that — it doesn’t make sense!’
     Sir Harry turned to look at him, then glanced out the window again.
     ‘It isn’t important whether you win or lose,’ he said, ‘so long as you survive. So long as your people survive. And that’s the only good reason for fighting that anyone ever invented. The survival of your people and race and kind. That’s the only victory that matters.’


Mr American, p.525, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.


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Monday, 22 April 2013

General Flashman and the Great War, Part 3



     ‘By that reckoning,’ said Mr Franklin, ‘no one would ever stand up to a brute or a bully.’
     ‘Course they would — when it was worth while. You don’t remember the war of 1870 — when those same Germans marched on Paris. Smallish war — but suppose we’d been helping the frogs then? It wouldn’t have been over half as quick, and God knows how many folk would have died who are still happily going about their business in Alsace and Lorraine. Same thing today — we should simply tell the Kaiser that if his fleet puts its nose out of the Baltic we’ll send it to the bottom — that satisfies the Frogs, up to a point, since it guarantees their northern coast, it satisfies the Kaiser who’ll swallow his pride for the sake of us keeping out of the war, and it saves his pretty little ships as well. And five years from now, Liege will be doing rather well — whether it’s got a German provost-marshall still or not. And that won’t matter a damn, to people whose main concern is eating, drinking, fornicating, making money, and seeing their children grow up safe and healthy.’


* Should be read in conjunction with General Flashman and the Great War, Part 1 & General Flashman and the Great War, Part 2 [Speedicut]


Mr American, p.519, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.


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Thursday, 18 April 2013

General Flashman and the Great War, Part 2



*‘Anyway, imagine yourself a Belgian — in Liege, say. Along come the Prussians, and invade you. What about it? — a few cars commandeered, a shop or two looted, half a dozen girls knocked up, a provost marshal installed, and the storm’s passed. Fierce fighting with the Frogs, who squeal like hell because Britain refuses to help, the Germans reach Paris, peace concluded, and that’s that. And there you are, getting on with your garden in Liege. But — ‘ the General waved his bony finger. ‘Suppose Britain helps — sends forces to aid little Belgium — and the Frogs — against the Teuton horde? what then? Belgian resistance is stiffened, the Frogs manage to stop the invaders, a hell of a war is waged all over Belgium and north-east France, and after God knows how much slaughter and destruction the the Germans are beat — or not, as the case may be. How’s Liege doing? I’ll tell you — it’s a bloody shambles. You’re lying mangled in your cabbage patch, your wife’s had her legs blown off, your daughters have been raped, and your house is a mass of rubble. You’re a lot better off for British intervention, ain’t you?’ He sat back grinning sardonically.


* Should be read in conjunction with General Flashman and the Great War, Part 1 [Speedicut]

Mr American, pp.518-19, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.


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Monday, 23 January 2012

Valkyrian proportions



So it was with a light heart and my hat on three hairs that I found myself strolling under the famous lime trees to the Brandenburg Thor a few weeks later, taking a long slant at the Thier Garten in the June sunshine, and marvelling at the Valkyrian proportions of German women...


Flashman and the Tiger, p.27, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Wednesday, 13 May 2009

Well-washed exquisite




I was aware that Albert was speaking, in that heavy, German voice; he was still the cold, well-washed exquisite I had first met 12 years ago, with those frightful whiskers that looked as though someone had tried to pluck them and left off half-way through.



Flashman at the Charge, p.33, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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Friday, 19 December 2008

Sometimes I remember




God knows I’m no romantic adventurer, but sometimes I remember – and I’d like to run south again down to Africa with a fair wind. In a private yacht, with my youth, half a dozen assorted Parisian whores, the finest food and drink, and perhaps a German band. Aye, it’s a man’s life.



Flash For Freedom!, pp.62-63, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1980.




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Wednesday, 29 October 2008

Great tribe of officials



…my baggage wouldn’t stand examination, if I ran across any of the great tribe of officials who are always swarming in Germany, looking for other folk’s business to meddle in.



Royal Flash, p.251, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Friday, 19 September 2008

Excellent fellows



For all their other faults, I must own that Germans are excellent fellows at a gorging-and-drinking party.



Royal Flash, p.171, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Wednesday, 10 September 2008

A sharp-set man



I was sharp-set, and… laid into the ham and cold fowls, and chatted affably to the nobs and their ladies, who were making the most of the grub themselves, as the Germans always do.



Royal Flash, p.155, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Monday, 18 August 2008

One word for it

I don’t think that of all the beastly things that man ever did, or all the terror he caused me, that there was anything so loathsome as that casual marking of my skin for de Gautet to cut at. There is only one word for it – it was German. and if you don’t understand what I mean, thank God for it.



Royal Flash, p.122, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Sunday, 3 August 2008

Admirably well ordered

They [Germans] say what they think, which isn’t much as a rule, and they are admirably well ordered. Everyone in Germany knows his place and stays in it, and grovels to those above him, which makes it an excellent country for gentlemen and bullies.



Royal Flash, p.70, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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