“I hated the guy.”
That was the old man’s opinion of General George Patton. My elderly patient was a World War 2 veteran and former captain in Patton’s Third Army. He fought under Patton during the Battle of the Bulge.
”Why?” I asked.
“He just didn’t care too much about the little guy. It was all about the mission and objective.”
I pressed him further. “Can you give me an example?”
“Sure. It was during the Battle of the Bulge. Patton had called all of us together for an Officer’s Call. Several hundred us gathered in front of a flatbed truck and there he [Patton] was, perched atop the flatbed, decked out in his regalia—three stars emblazoned on a shiny helmet, knee-high boots, ivory-handled Colt .45 pistols and a saber.
“‘Men!’ the General said pointing his saber toward the German line, ‘We are going to cut through that Kraut son-of-a-bitch German line like shit through a goose and I don’t care how many truckloads of Louisiana dogtags it takes! Do I make myself perfectly clear?!’”
“And that is just one example of many.”
The old man continued, visibly upset . . .
“They called him ‘Old Blood and Guts’ and he was a gutsy general, no doubt about it. But it was always our blood at stake. We were an effective army but it came at a very steep price paid with the lives of the common soldier—many of whom were my friends. I really hated the guy for that.”
The old man was misty-eyed. He wiped his eyes, sniffed a bit and was silent for 15 or 20 seconds.
“Oh well, Doc. Sorry about that. I guess we should discuss my high blood pressure and cholesterol.”
And shifting gears, we got on with the business of his doctor appointment.
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