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Can't let a Patton post go by without his Poem:

THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY
by Gen. George S. Patton, Jr.

Through the travail of the ages,
Midst the pomp and toil of war,
Have I fought and strove and perished
Countless times upon this star.

In the form of many people
In all panoplies of time
Have I seen the luring vision
Of the Victory Maid, sublime.

I have battled for fresh mammoth,
I have warred for pastures new,
I have listed to the whispers
When the race trek instinct grew.

I have known the call to battle
In each changeless changing shape
From the high souled voice of conscience
To the beastly lust for rape.

I have sinned and I have suffered,
Played the hero and the knave;
Fought for belly, shame, or country,
And for each have found a grave.

I cannot name my battles
For the visions are not clear,
Yet, I see the twisted faces
And I feel the rending spear.

Perhaps I stabbed our Savior
In His sacred helpless side.
Yet, I've called His name in blessing
When after times I died.

In the dimness of the shadows
Where we hairy heathens warred,
I can taste in thought the lifeblood;
We used teeth before the sword.

While in later clearer vision
I can sense the coppery sweat,
Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery
When our Phalanx, Cyrus met.

Hear the rattle of the harness
Where the Persian darts bounced clear,
See their chariots wheel in panic
From the Hoplite's leveled spear.

See the goal grow monthly longer,
Reaching for the walls of Tyre.
Hear the crash of tons of granite,
Smell the quenchless eastern fire.

Still more clearly as a Roman,
Can I see the Legion close,
As our third rank moved in forward
And the short sword found our foes.

Once again I feel the anguish
Of that blistering treeless plain
When the Parthian showered death bolts,
And our discipline was in vain.

I remember all the suffering
Of those arrows in my neck.
Yet, I stabbed a grinning savage
As I died upon my back.

Once again I smell the heat sparks
When my Flemish plate gave way
And the lance ripped through my entrails
As on Crecy's field I lay.

In the windless, blinding stillness
Of the glittering tropic sea
I can see the bubbles rising
Where we set the captives free.

Midst the spume of half a tempest
I have heard the bulwarks go
When the crashing, point blank round shot
Sent destruction to our foe.

I have fought with gun and cutlass
On the red and slippery deck
With all Hell aflame within me
And a rope around my neck.

And still later as a General
Have I galloped with Murat
When we laughed at death and numbers
Trusting in the Emperor's Star.

Till at last our star faded,
And we shouted to our doom
Where the sunken road of Ohein
Closed us in it's quivering gloom.

So but now with Tanks a'clatter
Have I waddled on the foe
Belching death at twenty paces,
By the star shell's ghastly glow.

So as through a glass, and darkly
The age long strife I see
Where I fought in many guises,
Many names, but always me.

And I see not in my blindness
What the objects were I wrought,
But as God rules o'er our bickerings
It was through His will I fought.

So forever in the future,
Shall I battle as of yore,
Dying to be born a fighter,
But to die again, once more.

His views on past lives/reincarnation are pretty well known.

He was one hell of a Soldier, and more than just a bit philosopher.

Awesome! Never read Patton's entire poem before.

I love that scene in the movie Patton where he recites a verse from that over the site of an ancient battle.

Thanks for posting General Patton's poem.

Have you heard about the new book, Patton's Photographs: War As He Saw It?

Historian Kevin Hymel was going through Patton's journals at the Library of Congress when he noticed a listing for twelve photograph albums. He asked for one, mainly out of curiosity, and was stunned to discover that all twelve albums were filled with pictures taken by Patton himself. Apparently he was an avid amateur photographer who took pictures from the day his troops stormed the beaches of North Africa to just a few days before his fatal accident. Hymel then combined the photos with entries from Patton's journals to create a masterful book that historians are raving about.

While Kevin Hymel is listed the author, the book's photographer is General George S. Patton. (not bad for a guy who has been dead for over sixty years)

The book was supposed to be released this week, but it has been pushed back until late June.

Nowadays we're too PC to let our soldiers pray in public. Might offend some atheist, or some member of The Religion of Pieces.
But, once upon a time:

The Patton Prayer
Almighty and most merciful Father, we humbly beseech Thee, of Thy great goodness, to restrain these immoderate rains with which we have had to contend. Grant us fair weather for Battle. Graciously hearken to us as soldiers 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.

I would just LOVE to see the Muslims go apes#!t over something like this - then have the military kill 'em off while they're rioting.

Interesting poem.

In discernment, is it pssible Patton was merely possessed by a fallen angel, or was he simply influenced by familiar spirits and confused their recollections of past lives with being his own?