A pint of sweat, saves a gallon of blood.

For over a thousand years Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of triumph, a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeteers, musicians and strange animals from conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conquerors 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.

There is no such thing as luck, merely opportunity meeting preparedness. George S. Patton Jr.

This is a hell of a way to die.

It is the cold glitter of the attacker's eye not the point of the questing bayonet that breaks the line.

Lead me, follow me, or get out of my way.

There's only one way for a professional soldier to die. That's from the last bullet of the last battle of the last war.