07 April 2011

Patton -- Reincarnated Carolingian Knight

Thumbnail for version as of 22:02, 8 April 2009
 Although it does not look like my Weird War II game will get off the ground anytime soon, I'm still going to continue to periodically post my "weirded" versions of WWII era figures.  I hope to use them someday.  Besides, I learn a lot and it's a lot of fun!

"We will get the name of killers and killers are immortal"

I knew the major details of the life and career of General George S. Patton -- fiery personality, prescient in his use of tanks and armored units, tactically brilliant, almost canned for slapping a solider while in North Africa, feared by the Nazis, hated the Russians, and wanted to conquer Germany but ran out of gas (seriously).  But here are a few things I didn't know:
  • Became a "Master of the Sword" after spending time in intense study with one of the greatest swordsmen in all of Europe.  This happened after. . .
  • He placed 5th in the pentathlon in the 1912 Olympics.  Afterwards, he traveled throughout Germany before heading to France to study fencing.
  • He then designed a cavalry saber for the U.S. Army and wrote an manual detailing its use.
  • Saved the Lipizzaner Stallions from the advancing Soviet Army.
Given all of this, it's easy to imagine that Patton has, at his core, some mystical connection with a ghost, soul, or spirit of a Knight of the Holy Roman Empire.  This connection gives him almost inhuman fighting ability, especially on horse and with a sword.  It enhances his tactical powers to supernatural levels, allowing him to anticipate an enemy army's movements and develop devastating counter-attacks.  His knowledge of military history is beyond encyclopedic, as he seemingly has first hand-knowledge of the tactics and terrain of Europe.  It also makes him somewhat unstable, as his ghostly inhabitant is obsessed with reestablishing the Holy Roman Empire.  This explains Patton's interest in the Crown Jewels of the HRE, his distrust of the Soviet "Mongolian Savages", and his more than occasional impatience with other members of his own command.

Maybe someone in the Ahnenerbe gets wind of this spirit connection and tries to destroy the relics associated with the inhabiting spirit, crippling one of the Allies' best generals. . .

Or maybe the spirit finally gets the upper hand when Patton becomes bored as governor of Bavaria, leading to the mobilization of the U.S. Third Army against the Soviets and the outbreak of World War III.

3 comments:

  1. Didn't Patton make statements that he thought he had had a previous life as a warrior? I believe he says as much in the George C. Scott film.

    Anyway, good post.

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  2. @Trey. Thanks! I remember that from the film, though it's been a long time since I've seen it. I've just taken that idea to the next level.

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  3. The film quotes one of Patton's own poems (reproduced below) and, IIRC, there's a scene where he weirds out the officers' mess by citing his own experiences fighting in the local theatre in a former life.

    Patton as eternal warrior is a classic Weird War II idea.

    "Through a Glass, Darkly"
    -- George S. Patton, Jr.

    Through the travail of the ages,
    Midst the pomp and toil of war,
    I have 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.

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