Showing posts with label warfare. Show all posts
Showing posts with label warfare. Show all posts

Friday, 26 April 2013

How many Gettysburgs



‘I’d also like to remind our jingo-drunk public that they haven’t the least notion what a war with modern weapons will be like and the only fellows who can even guess are your American survivors from places like Antietam and Shiloh — that’s the only real war there’s been in a hundred years.’ The General pointed an accusing spoon at Mr Franklin. ‘Know how many men went down at Gettysburg? Fifty thousand — and if I hadn’t moved damned lively I’d have been one of ’em. Well, how many Gettysburgs d’you think it will take to settle a scrap between the kind of forces under arms in Europe today? I don’t know — perhaps a month of it would make everyone cry quits, but knowing the sort of clowns who’ll be in command — who are always in command — I take leave to doubt it.’


Mr American, p.520, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.



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Tuesday, 3 July 2012

I can’t abide leeks



As an unworthy holder of that Cross myself, I’ll say they earned them, and as much glory as you like, for there never was a stand like it in all the history of war. For they didn’t only stand against impossible odds, you see — they stood and won, the garrulous little buggers, and not just ’cos they had Martinis against spears and clubs and a few muskets; they beat ’em hand to hand too, steel against steel at the barricades, and John Zulu gave them best. Well, you know what I think of heroism, and I can’t abide leeks, but I wear a daffodil as my buttonhole on Davey’s Day, for Rorke’s Drift.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.288, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Wednesday, 29 September 2010

Reservation or the grave



      The Indian’s tragedy was that being a spoiled and arrogant savage who wouldn’t lie down, and a brave and expert fighter who happened to be quite useless at war, he could only be suppressed with a brutality that often matched his own. It was the reservation or the grave, there was no other way.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.171, Pan Books edition, 1983.




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Tuesday, 23 March 2010

What do they expect?



What beats me is the way people take it to heart – what do they expect in war? It ain’t conducted by missionaries, or chaps in Liberal clubs, snug and secure.



Flashman in the Great Game, p.243, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Sunday, 1 June 2008

A greater shambles?

Possibly there has been a greater shambles in the history of warfare than our withdrawal from Kabul; probably there has not.



Flashman, p.176, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.




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