By profession I am a soldier and take pride in that fact. But I am prouder - infinitely prouder - to be a father. A soldier destroys in order to build; the father only builds, never destroys. The one has the potentiality of death; the other embodies creation and life. And while the hordes of death are mighty, the battalions of life are mightier still. It is my hope that my son, when I am gone, will remember me not from the battle field but in the home repeating with him our simple daily prayer, Our Father Who Art in Heaven.

If I had one more division like this First Marine Division I could win this war.

In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield.

There is no security. Only opportunity.

The soldier, above all other men, is required to practice the greatest act of religious training - sacrifice.

In war, as it is waged now, with the enormous losses on both sides, both sides will lose. It is a form of mutual suicide.

My first recollection is that of a bugle call.