It is tragic to see the demise of the professional fighting soldier. Sure war is an evil thing. Once it happens one can go back in time. Again the British soldier was betrayed in the Crimean War in the 1850's. He did his best and died by the thousand of neglect and disease.
A bit of a long screed, but whoever allowed these German soldiers to even approach this kind of indolence is almost a traitor. Unless the begger sits back and says - if any emergency happens the USA will fix it.
Germany has dodged it's responsibilities for too long.
Hasn’t that always been the story of the British Army? I think Churchill said the British always lose every battle except the last one.
The Brits were certainly caught flat footed in 1940 but then they hadn’t spent a decade preparing for war, the Germans had. Once the British got into their stride the Germans proved that often they could be equally flat footed, maybe not as regards the fighting qualities of the individual German soldier which was of course superb but as the war went on the German high command proved themselves to be every bit as unimaginative and “old guard” as any spit n’ polish British cavalry general of WW1.
One obvious point is in the air war where the Brits proved themselves to be the innovative geniuses able to produce revolutionary aircraft design and navigation systems that the Germans simply couldn’t match. At sea also once the initial phase of the U-Boat war was passed it was the Royal Navy who proved themselves to be the more imaginative and daring and were able to outfight and outwit the Germans with ease.
By the time D-Day came around the British Army was more than a match for the Germans. It is perhaps to the credit of the British that they are usually unprepared for war, but when they get involved they learn from their mistakes very quickly and as Napoleon, the Kaiser and eventually Hitler discovered you dismiss the British Army at your peril.
Rudyard Kipling
Tommy
I went into a public-’ouse to get a pint o’beer,
The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;
But it's ``Thank you, Mister Atkins,’’ when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Atkins,’’ when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but ‘adn’t none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-’alls,
But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;
But it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide.
Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they're starvation cheap;
An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they're goin’ large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy how's yer soul?”
But it's “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll.
We aren't no thin red ‘eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An’ if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints:
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind,”
But it's “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there's trouble in the wind.
You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires an’ all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”
But it's “Saviour of ‘is country,” when the guns begin to shoot;
An’ it's Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ anything you please;
But Tommy ain't a bloomin’ fool - you bet that Tommy sees!