Patton

Patton:
Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country.

Patton:
The Carthaginians defending the city were attacked by three Roman legions. The Carthaginians were proud and brave but they couldn't hold. They were massacred. Arab women stripped them of their tunics and their swords and lances. The soldiers lay naked in the sun. Two thousand years ago. I was here.

Patton:
Rommel, you magnificent bastard. I read your book.

Patton:
Now there's another thing I want you to remember. I don't want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. We're not holding anything. Let the Hun do that. We are advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We're going to hold onto him by the nose and we're going to kick him in the ass. We're going to kick the hell out of him all the time and we're going to go through him like crap through a goose.

Patton:
Thirty years from now, when you're sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks you, "What did you do in the great World War II," you won't have to say, "Well... I shoveled sh*t in Louisiana."

General Alfred Jodl:
This is the end... the end.

Patton:
Men, all this stuff you've heard about America not wanting to fight - wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of horse dung. Americans traditionally love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, big league ball players, the toughest boxers. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost and never will lose a war, because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans.

Patton:
Now, an army is a team - it lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap.

Patton:
Am I to understand that my officers have already finished eating?

Patton:
Please inform these men that the mess hall is closed.

Patton:
From now on, you will open at six, and no man will be admitted after six-fifteen. Where are your leggings?

Patton:
You're a soldier. Twenty dollar fine. (Two more soldiers enter the mess hall. Patton looks them over) Gentlemen, from this moment, any soldier without leggings, without a helmet, without a tie, any man with unshined shoes or a soiled uniform... is going to be skinned.

Patton:
The Nazis are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill *their* blood. Shoot *them* in the belly.

Capt. Oskar Steiger:
The pure warrior... a magnificent anachronism.

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel:
You can afford to be an optimist. I can't.

Patton:
This is a barracks; it's not a bordello.

Patton:
They're ivory. Only a pimp from a cheap New Orleans whorehouse would carry a pearl-handled pistol.

Patton:
We're gonna keep fighting. Is that CLEAR? We're gonna attack all night we're gonna attack the next morning. If we're not VICTORIOUS. Let no man come back alive.

Lt. Col. Charles R. Codman:
You know General, sometimes the men don't know when you're acting.

Patton:
It's not important for them to know. It's only important for me to know.

Patton:
When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do.

Clergyman:
I was interested to see a Bible by your bed. You actually find time to read it?

Patton:
I sure do. Every goddamn day.

Patton:
There's only one proper way for a professional soldier to die: the last bullet of the last battle of the last war.

Patton:
For over a thousand years, Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of a triumph - a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeters and musicians and strange animals from the conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conqueror rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes his children, robed in white, stood with him in the chariot, or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror, holding a golden crown, and whispering in his ear a warning: that all glory is fleeting.

General Omar N. Bradley:
There's one big difference between you and me, George. I do this job because I've been trained to do it. You do it because you LOVE it.

Patton:
I'Ve Always felt that I was destined for some great achievement, what I don't know.

Sgt. William Meeks:
Yes, Sir.

Patton:
The last great opportunity of a lifetime- an ENTIRE WORLD, AT WAR, AND I'M LEFT OUT OF IT? GOD will not permit this to happen- I will be ALLOWED, to FULLFILL MY DESTINY. His will be done.

Patton:
You want to know why this outfit got the hell kicked out of it? A blind man could spot it. They don't act like soldiers; they don't look like soldiers; why should they be expected to fight like soldiers?

Patton:
Were not just going to shoot the bastards, were going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads on our tanks.

Field Marshal Sir Bernard Law Montgomery:
Don't smirk Patton. I shan't kiss you.

Patton:
Pity. 'cause I shaved very close this morning in preparation for getting smacked by you.

Patton:
In about fifteen minutes, we're going to start turning these boys into fanatics - razors. They'll lose their fear of the Germans. I only hope to God they never lose their fear of me.

Patton:
Berlin. I'm going to personally shoot that paper-hangin' sonofabitch.

Patton:
What's the matter with you?

Soldier Who Gets Slapped:
Well, I... I guess I... I can't take it anymore.

Patton:
What did you say?

Soldier Who Gets Slapped:
It's my nerves, sir. I... I just can't stand the shelling anymore.

Patton:
Your *nerves*? Well, hell, you're nothing but a God-damned coward.

Patton:
Shut up!

Patton:
I'm not going to have a man sitting here *crying*! In front of these brave men who have been wounded in battle!

Patton:
*Shut up!*

Patton:
Don't admit this yellow bastard. There's nothing wrong with him. I won't have a man who's just afraid to fight *stinking up this place of honor!* You will get him back up to the front.

Patton:
You're going back to the front, boy. You may get shot, and you may get killed, but you're going back to the fighting. Either that, or I'll stand you up before a firing squad. Why, I ought to shoot you right now, you...

Patton:
God-damned bastard! Get him out of here! Take him back to the *front! You hear me? You God-damned coward!*

Patton:
I won't have cowards in my army.

Patton:
"Despicable". That's the first time anyone's ever applied that word to me.

Patton:
I don't know why, but the image of a bullet coming straight for my nose was more horrifying than anything else.

General Omar N. Bradley:
Well, I can understand that, George, it's such a handsome nose.

Patton:
I'm not going to subsidize cowardice.

Patton:
Well, then cut two holes in your helmet and see that you can.

Patton:
The bilious bastards who came up with that stuff about individuality know as much about battle as they do about fornicating.

Col. Gen. Alfred Jodl:
In 15 minutes, we meet with the fuehrer. He will want to know how you will deal with Patton's forces.

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel:
I will attack and annihilate him

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel:
Before he does the same to me.

Patton:
They will get some education in about 10 seconds when they get a dose of our artillery fire.

Lt. Col. Charles R. Codman:
G2 also reports that Hitler probably retained Rommel in Berlin for the Afrika Korps. 'cause things were going badly for the Afrika Korps, He didn't want his favorite general to lose face

Patton:
Well, I am my favorite General. I don't want to be told that some second stringer is up against me. Then I lose face.

Patton:
In ten days I'll have a war on with those Communist bastards, and I'll make it look like THEIR fault.

Patton:
Oh mighty and most merciful father. We humbly beseech thee of thy great goodness to restrain this immoderate weather with which we have had to contend. Grant us fair weather for battle. Graciously harken to us as solders who call upon thee that armed with thy power we may advance from victory to victory, and crush the oppression and wickedness of our enemies and establish thy justice among men and nations. AMEN.

Patton:
Well, get back down there, son. You're the only son of a b*tch in this headquarters who knows what he's trying to do.

Patton:
You know, Dick, if I had my way, I'd meet Rommel face to face; him in his tank and me in mine. We'd meet out there somewhere; salute each other, maybe drink a toast, then we'd button up and go at it. The winner of the battle would win the war.

Gen. Omar Bradley:
I can read a map.

[General Patton tours a tent and sees a shell-shocked soldier]

Patton:
What's the matter with you?

Bennet:
I, I guess I just can't take it sir.

Patton:
What did you say?

Bennet:
It's my nerves sir. I, I, I just can't stand the shelling anymore. [starts sobbing]

Patton:
Your nerves? Why, hell, you are just a goddamned coward. [stands and slaps Bennet's helmet with his gloves] Shut up. I won't have a yellow bastard sitting here crying, in front of these brave men who have been wounded in battle. [Bennet continues to sob] SHUT UP! [strikes the man again, knocking his helmet liner off; he turns to the admitting officer and yells] Don't admit this yellow bastard. There's nothing wrong with him! I won't have sons-of-b*tches who are afraid to fight stinking up this place of honor! [Turns back to Bennet] You're going back to the front, my friend. You may get shot and you may get killed, but you're going up to the fighting. Either that or I stand you up in front of a firing squad. I [grabs for his pistol] ought to shoot you myself, you goddamned little whimpering bastard! Get him out of here! [two orderlies grab Bennet and take him out of tent.] Send him up to the front! You hear me! You GODDAMN COWARD! [starts walking out of the tent] I won't have cowards in my army.

Bradley:
You wanted to see me, George?

Patton:
Got a letter here from Ike. [hands letter to Bradley] I, ah, was re-reading Caesar's Commentaries last night. In battle Caesar wore a red robe to distinguish him from his men. I, ah, was struck by that fact, because... [pause] "Despicable" — that's the first time in my life anyone ever applied that word to me.

Bradley:
Well, ah, at least it's a personal reprimand. It's not official.

Patton:
The man was yellow, he should have been tried for cowardice and shot. My God, have they forgotten about all of the people who have taken a hell of a lot worse than a little kick in the pants? I ruffled his pride a little bit. What's that compared to war? Two weeks ago when we took Palermo they called me a hero, said I was the greatest general since Stonewall Jackson.

Bradley:
And now they draw cartoons about you. [Bradley looks at newspaper cartoon]

Patton:
Dirty bastard. They got me holding a little G.I. there and kicking him with an iron boot. Do you see that? What's on my boot? A swastika. On my boot. An iron boot with a swastika on it! [Throws newspaper down in anger, picks up the letter a reads a portion of it] "You will apologize to the soldier you slapped. To all doctors and nurses who were present in the tent at the time. To every patient in the tent who can be reached. And last but not least, to the Seventh Army as a whole, through individual units one at a time." God, I feel low.

[on having his operations delayed, in favor of advances by Field Marshall Montgomery]

Patton:
If you won't let me kill the enemy, why did you pick me to command?

Bradley:
I didn't pick you! Ike picked you. George, you have reformed brilliantly. You are loyal, dedicated — you're one of the best field commanders I've got — but you don't know when to shut up, George! You’re a pain in the neck.

Patton:
I have a lot of faults Brad, but ingratitude isn't one of them. I owe you a lot. Hell, I know I'm a prima donna — I admit it! What I can't stand about Monty is he won't admit it.

[hearing the objections to a plan to swing three Third Army divisions north to Bastogne to relieve the surrounded 101st Airborne]

Patton:
I trained these men. They'll do what I tell them to do.

British officer:
Perhaps we hadn't realized you were quite so popular with your troops, General.

Patton:
I'm not. They'll do it because they're good soldiers. And because they realize like I do, that we could still lose this war.

British officer:
Well, I think I can speak for Field Marshall Montgomery — he'd say you're asking the impossible of your men.

Patton:
Of course he would. Because he's never realized that's what we're in business for.

Colonel Gaston Bell:
General McAuliffe refused a German surrender demand. You know what he said?

Patton:
What?

Bell:
"Nuts!"

Patton:
[laughing] Keep them moving, Colonel. A man that eloquent has to be saved.

[during a Soviet-American celebration after the fall of Berlin]

Russian Translator:
The general would like to know if you will drink a toast with him.

Patton:
Thank the general, and tell him that I have no desire to drink with him, or any other Russian son of a b*tch.

Russian Translator:
[aghast] I can't tell him that!

Patton:
Tell him, every word.

Russian Translator:
[nervously, in Russian] He says he will not drink with you, or any other Russian son of a b*tch.

Russian General:
[angrily, in Russian] Tell him he is a son of a b*tch, too! Now!

Russian Translator:
[nervously] He says, he thinks you are a son of a b*tch, too!

Patton:
[laughing] All right, all right. Tell him I'll drink to that. One son of a b*tch to another!

General George S. Patton: [addressing the troops] I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his country. Men, all this stuff you've heard about America not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of horse dung. Americans, traditionally, love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooters, the fastest runners, big league ball players, the toughest boxers. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost and will never lose a war, because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans. Now, an army is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the Saturday Evening Post don't know anything more about real battle than they do about fornicating. Now, we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. You know, by God I, I actually pity those poor bastards we're going up against, by God, I do. We're not just going to shoot the bastards; we're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We're going to murder those lousy Hun bastards by the bushel. Now, some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. The Nazis are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood. Shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do. Now there's another thing I want you to remember: I don't want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. We're not holding anything. Let the Hun do that. We are advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We're going to hold onto him by the nose and we're going to kick him in the ass! We're going to kick the hell out of him all the time, and we're going to go through him like crap through a goose! Now, there's one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home. And you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now when you’re sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee, and he asks you: "What did you do in the great World War II?" You won't have to say, "Well, I shoveled sh*t in Louisiana." All right, now, you sons-of-b*tches, you know how I feel. Oh... I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle anytime, anywhere. That's all.

General George S. Patton:
[writing about the death of his favorite aide, Captain Richard N. "Dick" Jenson, at the Battle of El Guettar] Captain Richard N. Jenson was a fine boy. Loyal, unselfish, and efficient. I am terribly sorry. There are no coffins here since there's no wood. We will have a trumpeter and an honor guard, but we will not fire the volleys, as it would make people think an air raid was on. I enclosed a lock of Dick's hair in a letter to his mother. He was a fine man and a fine officer. And he had no vices. I shall miss him a lot. I can't see the reason such fine young men get killed. There are so many battles yet to fight.

General George S. Patton: [addressing 7th Army troops in an apology about the soldier-slapping incident] At ease.[Long pause] I thought I would stand up here and let you people see if I am as big of a son-of-a-b*tch as some of you think I am. [Troops laugh] I assure you I had no intention of being either harsh or cruel in my treatment of the soldier in question. My sole purpose was to try and to restore him some appreciation of his obligation as a man, and as a soldier. If one can shame a coward, I felt, one might help him regain his self-respect. This was on my mind. Now I freely admit that my method was wrong, but I hope you can understand my motive, and will accept this explanation, and this apology. Dismissed.

General George S. Patton:
[ranting about being assigned to lead the First United States Army Group I feel I am destined to achieve some great thing — what, I don't know. But this last incident is so trivial in its nature and so terrible in its effect — it can't be the result of an accident. It has to be the work of God. The last great opportunity of a lifetime — an entire world at war and I'm left out of it? God will not permit this to happen! I will be allowed to fulfill my destiny! … His will be done.

General George S. Patton:
[commenting to an aide, while reviewing a battle site the morning after] Fixed fortifications are man's monument to stupidity. When mountain ranges and oceans can be overcome, anything built by man can be overcome. You know how I know that they're finished out there? The carts. They're using carts to lug their supplies and wounded. In my dreams I saw the carts. They kept buzzing around in my head and I couldn't figure out why. Then I remembered: the nightmare in the snow -- the endless, agonizing retreat from Moscow. God the cold! The wounded, and what was left of the supplies, were thrown into carts. Napoleon was finished. No color left, not even the red of blood. Only snow.

General George S. Patton:
[to staff, noting the obvious lack of German activity as winter sets in] There's absolutely no reason for us to assume the Germans are mounting a major offensive. The weather is awful, Their supplies are low, and the German army hasn't mounted a winter offensive since the time of Frederick the Great — therefore I believe that's exactly what they're going to do.

Stay down there soldier; you’re the only one in this outfit who knows what they are doing.

[Patton and his aide Lt. Col. Codman, while surveying the aftermath of a brutal fight between American and German forces, encounter a dazed and wounded US Army tank commander, who is sitting down by his tank]

Patton:
[kneeling down beside the wounded officer] Were you in command here, captain?

Tank Commander:
I was in command. My tank platoon was supporting an infantry company. The tanks ran out of gas, so we had to fight it out. We started at eleven o'clock last night. Finished a couple hours ago. This morning, the fighting was hand-to-hand.

[Patton looks around the battlefield and sees a dead American soldier with a knife in his stomach, lying next to a dead German soldier. He turns back to the wounded tank captain, leans down, and kisses him on the top of his head]