Battle Is An Orgy Of Disorder.

Lack Of Orders Is No Excuse For Inaction.

The Object Of War Is Not To Die For Your Country But To Make The Other Bastard Die For His.

Perpetual Peace Is A Futile Dream.

Never In History Has The Navy Landed An Army At The Planned Time And Place. But If You Land Us Anywhere Within 50 Miles Of Fedela And Within 1 Week Of D-day. I'll Go Ahead And Win.

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.