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January 4, 2009 / tninja1980msn

巴顿将军

1971年第43届奥斯卡最佳影片:巴顿将军Patton

他是一个为战争而生的人。

他来自军人世家,脾气火爆,直来直去,嫉恶如仇,嫉懦如仇。曾先后率领第七、三集团军,长驱直入,所向披靡,为盟军战胜德意联军,立下了汗马功劳。

他是个军事历史知识非常丰富的人,同时也迷恋战争,每去一处,总列举出何时曾发生过什么战役,好像他曾身处其中。

他是个纯粹的军人,同时笃信圣经,至死也不相信战争是政治的延续这一事实。

对他的功绩历来有争议:他曾因打士兵耳光而遭千夫所指,最后又因一场倒霉的新闻发布会而被解除职务。

战争使他成为叱咤风云的将军;和平让他又变回一个普通老人。

1945年12月9日,打猎途中遇车祸受傷,12月21日殁于海德堡

 

下面是他在第三集团军的战争动员演说词

General Patton’s Address to the Troops

June 5, 1944

Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about America wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of bullshit. Americans love to fight, traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. You are here today for three reasons. First, because you are here to defend your homes and your loved ones. Second, you are here for your own self respect, because you would not want to be anywhere else. Third, you are here because you are real men and all real men like to fight. When you, here, everyone of you, were kids, you all admired the champion marble player, the fastest runner, the toughest boxer, the big league ball players, and the All-American football players. Americans love a winner. Americans will not tolerate a loser. Americans despise cowards. Americans play to win all of the time. I wouldn’t give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That’s why Americans have never lost nor will ever lose a war; for the very idea of losing is hateful to an American.

You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Death, in time, comes to all men. Yes, every man is scared in his first battle. If he says he’s not, he’s a liar. Some men are cowards but they fight the same as the brave men or they get the hell slammed out of them watching men fight who are just as scared as they are. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some, it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood. Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base. Americans pride themselves on being He Men and they ARE He Men. Remember that the enemy is just as frightened as you are, and probably more so. They are not supermen.

All through your Army careers, you men have bitched about what you call "chicken shit drilling". That, like everything else in this Army, has a definite purpose. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be bred into every soldier. I don’t give a fuck for a man who’s not always on his toes. You men are veterans or you wouldn’t be here. You are ready for what’s to come. A man must be alert at all times if he expects to stay alive. If you’re not alert, sometime, a German son-of-an-asshole-bitch is going to sneak up behind you and beat you to death with a sockful of shit!" The men roared in agreement.

There are four hundred neatly marked graves somewhere in Sicily. All because one man went to sleep on the job. But they are German graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before they did. An Army is a team. It lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is pure horse shit. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don’t know any more about real fighting under fire than they know about fucking!

We have the finest food, the finest equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we’re going up against. By God, I do. My men don’t surrender. I don’t want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he has been hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight back. That’s not just bull shit either. The kind of man that I want in my command is just like the lieutenant in Libya, who, with a Luger against his chest, jerked off his helmet, swept the gun aside with one hand, and busted the hell out of the Kraut with his helmet. Then he jumped on the gun and went out and killed another German before they knew what the hell was coming off. And, all of that time, this man had a bullet through a lung. There was a real man!

All of the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters, either. Every single man in this Army plays a vital role. Don’t ever let up. Don’t ever think that your job is unimportant. Every man has a job to do and he must do it. Every man is a vital link in the great chain. What if every truck driver suddenly decided that he didn’t like the whine of those shells overhead, turned yellow, and jumped headlong into a ditch? The cowardly bastard could say, "Hell, they won’t miss me, just one man in thousands". But, what if every man thought that way? Where in the hell would we be now? What would our country, our loved ones, our homes, even the world, be like? No, Goddamnit, Americans don’t think like that. Every man does his job. Every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit, is important in the vast scheme of this war. The ordnance men are needed to supply the guns and machinery of war to keep us rolling. The Quartermaster is needed to bring up food and clothes because where we are going there isn’t a hell of a lot to steal. Every last man on K.P. has a job to do, even the one who heats our water to keep us from getting the ‘G.I. Shits’."

Each man must not think only of himself, but also of his buddy fighting beside him. We don’t want yellow cowards in this Army. They should be killed off like rats. If not, they will go home after this war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the Goddamned cowards and we will have a nation of brave men. One of the bravest men that I ever saw was a fellow on top of a telegraph pole in the midst of a furious fire fight in Tunisia. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing up there at a time like that. He answered, "Fixing the wire, Sir". I asked, "Isn’t that a little unhealthy right about now?" He answered, "Yes Sir, but the Goddamned wire has to be fixed". I asked, "Don’t those planes strafing the road bother you?" And he answered, "No, Sir, but you sure as hell do!" Now, there was a real man. A real soldier. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time, no matter how great the odds.

And you should have seen those trucks on the road to Tunisia. Those drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching roads, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with shells bursting all around them all of the time. We got through on good old American guts. Many of those men drove for over forty consecutive hours. These men weren’t combat men, but they were soldiers with a job to do. They did it, and in one hell of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without team effort, without them, the fight would have been lost. All of the links in the chain pulled together and the chain became unbreakable.

Don’t forget, you men don’t know that I’m here. No mention of that fact is to be made in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell happened to me. I’m not supposed to be commanding this Army. I’m not even supposed to be here in England. Let the first bastards to find out be the Goddamned Germans. Some day I want to see them raise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl, ‘Jesus Christ, it’s the Goddamned Third Army again and that son-of-a-fucking-bitch Patton’."

"We want to get the hell over there, the quicker we clean up this Goddamned mess, the quicker we can take a little jaunt against the purple pissing Japs and clean out their nest, too. Before the Goddamned Marines get all of the credit.

Sure, we want to go home. We want this war over with. The quickest way to get it over with is to go get the bastards who started it. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we can go home. The shortest way home is through Berlin and Tokyo. And when we get to Berlin, I am personally going to shoot that paper hanging son-of-a-bitch Hitler. Just like I’d shoot a snake!

When a man is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, a German will get to him eventually. The hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My men don’t dig foxholes. I don’t want them to. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don’t give the enemy time to dig one either. We’ll win this war, but we’ll win it only by fighting and by showing the Germans that we’ve got more guts than they have; or ever will have. We’re not going to just shoot the sons-of-bitches, we’re going to rip out their living Goddamned guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We’re going to murder those lousy Hun cocksuckers by the bushel-fucking-basket. War is a bloody, killing business. You’ve got to spill their blood, or they will spill yours. Rip them up the belly. Shoot them in the guts. When shells are hitting all around you and you wipe the dirt off your face and realize that instead of dirt it’s the blood and guts of what once was your best friend beside you, you’ll know what to do!

I don’t want to get any messages saying, "I am holding my position." We are not holding a Goddamned thing. Let the Germans do that. We are advancing constantly and we are not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy’s balls. We are going to twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all of the time. Our basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy. We are going to go through him like crap through a goose; like shit through a tin horn!

From time to time there will be some complaints that we are pushing our people too hard. I don’t give a good Goddamn about such complaints. I believe in the old and sound rule that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder WE push, the more Germans we will kill. The more Germans we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that.

There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great World War II, you WON’T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, "Well, your Granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana." No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, "Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Third Army and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-Bitch named Georgie Patton.

狗娘养的战争

弟兄们,最近有些小道消息,说我们美国人对这次战争想置身事外,
缺乏斗志。那全是 一堆臭狗屎!美国人从来就喜欢打仗。真正的美
国人喜欢战场上的刀光剑影。你们今天 在这里,有三个原因。一,
你们来这,是为了保卫家乡和亲人。二,你们来这,是为了 荣誉,
因为你此时不想在其他任何地方。三,你们来这,是因为你们是真正
的男子汉, 真正的男子汉都喜欢打仗。当今天在座的各位还都是孩
子的时候,大家就崇拜弹球冠军、 短跑健将、拳击好手和职业球员
。美国人热爱胜利者。美国人对失败者从不宽恕。美国 人蔑视懦夫
。美国人既然参赛,就要赢。我对那种输了还笑的人嗤之以鼻。正因
如此, 美国人迄今尚未打输过一场战争,将来也不会输。一个真正
的美国人,连失败的念头, 都会恨之入骨。
你们不会全部牺牲。每次主要战斗下来,你们当中只可能牺牲百分之
二。不要怕死。每 个人终究都会死。没错,第一次上战场,每个人
都会胆怯。如果有人说他不害怕,那是 撒谎。有的人胆小,但这并
不妨碍他们象勇士一样战斗,因为如果其他同样胆怯的战友 在那奋
勇作战,而他们袖手旁观的话,他们将无地自容。真正的英雄,是即
使胆怯,照 样勇敢作战的男子汉。有的战士在火线上不到一分钟,
便会克服恐惧。有的要一小时。 还有的,大概要几天工夫。但是,
真正的男子汉,不会让对死亡的恐惧战胜荣誉感、责 任感和雄风。
战斗是不甘居人下的男子汉最能表现自己胆量的竞争。战斗会逼出伟
大, 剔除渺小。美国人以能成为雄中之雄而自豪,而且他们也正是
雄中之雄。大家要记住, 敌人和你们一样害怕,很可能更害怕。他
们不是刀枪不入。在大家的军旅生涯中,你们 称演习训练为“鸡屎
”,经常怨声载道。这些训练演习,如军中其它条条框框一样,自
有它们的目的。训练演习的目的,就是培养大家的警惕性。警惕性必
须渗透到每个战士 的血管中去。对放松警惕的人,我决不手软。你
们大家都是枪林弹雨里冲杀出来的,不 然你们今天也不会在这儿。
你们对将要到来的厮杀,都会有所准备。谁要是想活着回来, 就必
须每时?瘫3志 琛V灰 阌心呐率且坏愕愕氖韬觯 突嵊懈龉纺?
养的德国鬼子 悄悄溜到你的背后,用一坨屎置你于死地!
在西西里的某个地方,有一块墓碑码得整整齐齐的墓地,里面埋了四
百具阵亡将士的尸 体。那四百条汉子升天,只因一名哨兵打了个盹
。令人欣慰地是,他们都是德国军人。 我们先于那些狗杂种发现了
他们的哨兵打盹。一个战斗队是个集体。大家在那集体里一 起吃饭
,一起睡觉,一起战斗。所谓的个人英雄主义是一堆马粪。那些胆汁
过剩、整日 在星期六晚间邮报上拉马粪的家伙,对真正战斗的了解
,并不比他们搞女人的知识多。
我们有世界上最好的给养、最好的武器设备、最旺盛的斗志和最棒的
战士。说实在地, 我真可怜那些将和我们作战的狗杂种们。真地。
我麾下的将士从不投降。我不想听到我手下的任何战士被俘的消息,
除非他们先受了伤。 即便受了伤,你同样可以还击。这不是吹大牛
。我愿我的部下,都象在利比亚作战时的 一位我军少尉。当时一个
德国鬼子用手枪顶着他胸膛,他甩下钢盔,一只手拨开手枪, 另只
手抓住钢盔,把那鬼子打得七窍流血。然后,他拾起手枪,在其他鬼
子反应过来之 前,击毙了另一个鬼子。在此之前,他的一侧肺叶已
被一颗子弹洞穿。这,才是一个真 正的男子汉!
不是所有的英雄都象传奇故事里描述的那样。军中每个战士都扮演一
个重要角色。千万 不要吊儿郎当,以为自己的任务无足轻重。每个
人都有自己的任务,而且必须做好。每 个人都是一条长链上的必不
可少的环节。大家可以设想一下,如果每个卡车司机都突然 决定,
不愿再忍受头顶呼啸的炮弹的威胁,胆怯起来,跳下车去,一头栽到
路旁的水沟 中躲起来,那会产生什么样的后果。这个懦弱的狗杂种
可以给自己找借口:“管他XX的, 没我地球照样转,我不过是千万
分之一。”但如果每个人都这样想呢?到那时,我们怎 么办?我们
的国家、亲人甚至整个世界会是怎么一个样子?不,他XXXX的,美国
人不那 样想。每个人都应完成他的任务。每个人都应对集体负责。
每个部门,每个战斗队,对 整个战争的宏伟篇章,都是重要的。弹
药武器人员让我们枪有所发,炮有所射。没有后 勤人员给我们送衣
送饭,我们就会饥寒交迫,因为在我们要去作战的地方,已经无可偷
抢。指挥部的所有人员,都各有所用,即使是个只管烧水帮我们洗
去征尘的勤务兵。
每个战士不能只想着自己,也要想着身边一起出生入死的战友。我们
军队容不得胆小鬼。 所有的胆小鬼都应象耗子一样被斩尽杀绝。否
则,战后他们就会溜回家去,生出更多的 胆小鬼来。老子英雄儿好
汉,老子懦夫儿软蛋。干掉所有XXXX的胆小鬼,我们的国家将 是勇
士的天下。我所见过的最勇敢的好汉,是在突尼斯一次激烈的战斗中
,爬到电话竿 上的一个通讯兵。我正好路过,便停下问他,在这样
危险的时候爬到那么高的地方瞎折 腾什么?他答道:“在修理线路
,将军。”我问:“这个时候不是太危险了吗?”他答 道:“是危
险,将军,但线路不修不行啊。”我问:“敌机低空扫射,不打扰你
吗?” 他答:“敌机不怎么打扰,将军,你倒是打扰得一塌糊涂。
”弟兄们,那才是真正的男 子汉,真正的战士。他全心全意地履行
自己的职责,不管那职责当时看起来多么地不起 眼,不管情况有多
危险。还有那些通往突尼斯的路上的卡车司机们,他们真了不起。他
们没日没夜,行驶在那狗娘养的破路上,从不停歇,从不偏向,把
四处开花的炮弹当成 伴奏。我们能顺利前进,全?这些天不怕地不
怕的美国硬汉。这些司机中,有人连续开 车已经超过四十小时。他
们不属战斗部队,但他们同样是军人,有重要的任务要完成。 任务
他们是完成了,而且完成得真他XX的棒!他们是大集体的一部分。如
果没有大家的 共同努力,没有他们,那场战斗可能就输掉了。只因
所有环节都各司其职,各尽其责, 整个链条才坚不可破。
大家要记住,算我没来过这里。千万不要在信件里提及我。按理说,
我是死是活,对外 界要保密,我既不统率第三集团军,更不在英国
。让那些XXXX的德国佬第一个发现吧! 我希望有一天看到,那些狗
杂种们屁滚尿流,哀鸣道:“我的天哪!又是那挨千刀的第 三集团
军!又是那狗娘养的巴顿!”
我们已经迫不及待了。早一日收拾掉万恶的德国鬼子,我们就能早一
日掉转枪口,去端 日本鬼子的老巢。如果我们不抓紧,功劳就会全
让狗娘养的海军陆战队抢去了。
是的,我们是想早日回家。我们想让这场战争早日结束。最快的办法
,就是干掉燃起这 场战争的狗杂种们。早一日把他们消灭干净,我
们就可以早一日凯旋。回家的捷径,要 通过柏林和东京。到了柏林
,我要亲手干掉那个纸老虎、狗杂种希特勒,就象干掉一条 蛇!
谁要想在炮弹坑里蹲上一天,就让他见鬼去吧!德国鬼子迟早会找到
他的头上。我的手 下不挖猫耳洞,我也不希望他们挖。猫耳洞只会
使进攻放缓。我们要持续进攻,不给敌 人挖猫耳洞的时间。我们迟
早会胜利,但我们只有不停战斗,比敌人勇敢,胜利才会到 来。我
们不仅要击毙那些狗杂种们,而且要把他们的五脏六腑掏出来润滑我
们的坦克履 带。我们要让那些XXXX的德国鬼子尸积成山,血流成河
。战争本来就是血腥野蛮残酷的。 你不让敌人流血,他们就会让你
流。挑开他们的肚子,给他们的胸膛上来上一枪。如果 一颗炮弹在
你身旁爆炸,炸了你一脸灰土,你一抹,发现那竟是你最好伙伴的模
糊血肉 时,你就知道该怎么办了!
我不想听到报告说,“我们在坚守阵地。”我们不坚守任何见鬼的阵
地。让德国鬼子坚 守去吧。我们要一刻不停地进攻,除了敌人的卵
子,我们对其它任何目标都不感兴趣。 我们要扭住敌人的卵子不放
,打得他们魂魄离窍。我们的基本作战计划,是前进前进再 前进,
不管要从敌人身上身下爬过去,还是要从他们身体中钻过去。我们要
象挤出鹅肠 或小号的屎那样执著,那样无孔不入!
有时免不了有人会抱怨,说我们对战士要求太严,太不近情理。让那
些抱怨见鬼去吧! 我坚信一条金玉良言,就是“一杯汗水,会挽救
一桶鲜血。”我们进攻得越坚决,就会 消灭越多的德国鬼子。我们
消灭的德国鬼子越多,我们自己人死得就会越少。进攻意味 着更少
的伤亡。我希望大家牢牢记住这一点。
凯旋回家后,今天在座的弟兄们都会获得一种值得夸耀的资格。二十
年后,你会庆幸自 己参加了此次世界大战。到那时,当你在壁炉边
,孙子坐在你的膝盖上,问你:“爷爷, 你在第二次世界大战时干
什么呢?”你不用尴尬地干咳一声,把孙子移到另一个膝盖上, 吞
吞吐吐地说:“啊……爷爷我当时在路易斯安那铲粪。”与此相反,
弟兄们,你可以 直盯着他的眼睛,理直气壮地说:“孙子,爷爷我
当年在第三集团军和那个狗娘养的巴顿并肩作战!”

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3 Comments

Leave a Comment
  1. / Jan 12 2009 8:37 pm

    说实话,影片塑造的巴顿超越了巴顿本人。还是朱可夫比较牛逼。

  2. / Jan 12 2009 8:37 pm

    说实话,影片塑造的巴顿超越了巴顿本人。还是朱可夫比较牛逼。

  3. / Jan 12 2009 8:38 pm

    说实话,影片塑造的巴顿超越了巴顿本人。还是朱可夫比较牛。

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