Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends

I had my pity-party. My time of private introspection is done. I needed a break to re-calibrate my sensors. I have done so. Here, Bill Whittle explains (toward the end) a recurring thought process over the past few weeks. I have encapsulated my recurring thought, below the video.


  • Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
    Or close the wall up with our English dead!

    In peace, there ’s nothing so becomes a man,
    As modest stillness and humility:
    But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
    Then imitate the action of the tiger;
    Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.




  • I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.
    • This is the liberal mind.


  • This is the latest parle we will admit:
    Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves,
    Or, like to men proud of destruction,
    Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier,
    (A name, that, in my thoughts, becomes me best,)
    If I begin the battery once again,
    I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur,
    Till in her ashes she lie buried.
    The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
    And the flesh’d soldier, rough and hard of heart,
    In liberty of bloody hand, shall range
    With conscience wide as hell; mowing like grass
    Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants.
    What is it then to me, if impious War,
    Array’d in flames, like to the prince of fiends,
    Do, with his smirch’d complexion, all fell feats
    Enlink’d to waste and desolation?
    What is’t to me, when you yourselves are cause,
    If your pure maidens fall into the hand
    Of hot and forcing violation?
    What rein can hold licentious wickedness,
    When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
    We may as bootless spend our vain command
    Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil,
    As send precepts to the Leviathan
    To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
    Take pity of your town, and of your people,
    Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command;
    Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
    O’erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
    Of deadly murder, spoil, and villainy.
    If not, why, in a moment, look to see
    The blind and bloody soldier, with foul hand,
    Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
    Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
    And their most reverend heads dash’d to the walls;
    Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
    Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus’d
    Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
    At Herod’s bloody-hunting slaughtermen.
    What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid?
    Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy’d?

    • Are we to sit and watch as what we love is destroyed, or shall we fight and be destroyed ourselves? Better to die a man, having continued to fight- than to live a long and peaceful life, dying a slave &  a coward.



  • The hum of either army stilly sounds,
    That the fix’d sentinels almost receive
    The secret whispers of each other’s watch.

    Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
    Each battle sees the other’s umber’d face:
    Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
    Piercing the night’s dull ear; and from the tents,
    The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
    With busy hammers closing rivets up,
    Give dreadful note of preparation.

    • We are here. We are legion. The enemy is closing it’s ranks now, to defeat us. 


  • Every subject’s duty is the king’s; but every subject’s soul is his own.
    • Your duty may be to God & country, but your soul belongs to you. It’s your fight to win or lose.


  • The wretched slave,
    Who, with a body fill’d, and vacant mind,
    Gets him to rest, cramm’d with distressful bread.

    • The wretched slaves, trapped on the plantation of liberal subservience, may eat & sleep, but at what cost? 


  • If we are mark’d to die, we are enough
    To do our country loss; and if to live,
    The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
    God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
    By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
    Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost;
    It yearns me not, if men my garments wear;
    Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
    But, if it be a sin to covet honour,
    I am the most offending soul alive.

    • Should we lose this battle, others will have seize upon the vain, temporal things we have possessed, but we are more than our possessions. More than our professions. More than our ephemera. We are men of honor. We fight for that which is right. We fight for individual liberty. When we are gone, our nation will be gone. Until then, we fight.


  • O, do not wish one more!
    Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
    That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
    Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
    And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
    We would not die in that man’s company,
    That fears his fellowship to die with us.

    • If any man wishes to trade his liberty for the relative security of servitude’s shackles, let him depart from us in peace. May his chains set lightly upon him and may posterity forget that he was our countrymen.


  • This day is call’d — the feast of Crispian:
    He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
    Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
    And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
    He that outlives this day, and sees old age,
    Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,
    And say, “To-morrow is Saint Crispian;”
    Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars,
    And say, “These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.”
    Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
    But he’ll remember, with advantages,
    What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
    Familiar in his mouth as household words, —
    Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter,
    Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
    Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.
    This story shall the good man teach his son;
    And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by
    From this day to the ending of the world,
    But we in it shall be remember’d, —
    We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
    For he to-day that sheds his blood with me,
    Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
    This day shall gentle his condition:
    And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
    Shall think themselves accurs’d, they were not here,
    And hold their manhoods cheap, whiles any speaks,
    That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

    • When you look back in 30 years, will you tell your grand-children how it was when men were free? Look them in the eye and explain that you had the chance to continue the fight, but chose to slink away, defeated? By God, I won’t! I will sit with my brothers & sisters who chose instead to fight! I will hold my head high, my chest out and explain that I fought until there was nothing left. 
Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends

  1. Greg B says:

    I ran across that video by Whittle a few days ago, which led me to another put up by Zo.
    Utterly brilliant treatises on what is happening and has happened. Especially Zo’s comments about why Romney didn’t motivate conservative voters, and why zero motivated his.
    Whittle’s final couple of minutes in this particular video nearly had me in tears.

  2. BarbaCat says:


  3. TN-Cat says:

    I love your sentiment here brother. It mirrors my own.

    Sitting here in Nashville watching the small battle being waged down in St Lucie Florida, I wonder if any of our countrymen are concerned at all with the farce being put forward. Its hard to digest the blatant disregard for one of our most basic liberties. A fair and honest election. If we cant stand up and win this small battle in this tiny district: how can we stand together anywhere?

  4. R.D. Walker says:

    Whittle is saying the same thing I said when I called for Plan B: We let the left reap what they sowed while doing our best to protect our own from the inevitable collateral damage. That is Plan B: Adapt and overcome.

    There were slightly more Americans who voted against us than who voted for us. Does that make us wrong? Hell no! We aren’t wrong. They are wrong. They are objectively, dangerously, profoundly wrong and we are right. We would still be right if 99% of America vote against us.

    Democracy is a popularity contest but truth isn’t. Copernicus was correct even while the rest of the whole world was dead wrong. Truth isn’t decided by a vote. We were out voted but that is just a bullshit popularity contest decided by a lot of people who don’t know the difference between the House of Representatives and the House of Pancakes.

    Screw it. We will adapt and overcome no matter how outnumbered we are. We will develop strategies to stay one step ahead of them. We will learn to game Obamacare and the rest of the Leviathan’s economic and social labyrinths. We will defend our own and direct blame squarely on the shoulders of those who have earned the scorn of future generations.

    This isn’t over. It is never over. We are right and history, science, God and nature are on our side. We have no reason for pity. We are the resistance in Occupied America and there are 98% as many of us as there are of them.

    Plan B: Adapt and overcome.

  5. R.D. Walker says:

    I don’t know what to say to Zo. I guess I am just not that interested in how to game the culture to get more of the idiot vote. I think Zo is saying that Ronald Reagan wouldn’t have defeated Obama in 2012. If that is true, I guess I am willing to let people who run campaigns work on solving that issue.

    I feel like we have more important work to do. I don’t know what can be said to convince people who didn’t give enough of a damn to vote for a decent, good man like Romney over a crypto-Marxist wrecker like Obama. I work in the reality of policy, not the corrupt world of identity politics and racial pandering.

  6. jacksonsdad says:

    Ronald Reagan didn’t have to contend with media shills of today’s caliber. Sure they were biased but they were in the closet and mindful of their credibility, the appearance of objectivity and the true meaning of “journalism”. These assholes today are advocates and activists parroting the WH talking points and NOBODY can (with a straight face) claim that it doesn’t matter.

    Could Reagan win today? Doubt it. Could Herman Cain win today? Doubt that too.

    West/ Rubio 2016… it may be our last chance at redemption.

  7. Dusty says:

    Does anyone else see what this old vet does? This election was stolen by the antics and money of people like George Soros and his Hollywood followers. Zonation is not right on the mark with the commentary as he leaves out the money and the “machines” (both electromechanical and physical). Mr. Whittle is right we vets signed on for the duration as the oath we took does not expire and personally it looks like civil war is ahead.

  8. James says:

    The 47% is irreparably contaminated. We cannot change them.

    The problem is bent morals and limited cognitive capacity. i.e. they are stupid and cannot visualize the consequences of their collective situational ethics.

    All each of us can do is do well. Hopefully they die out. I won’t help Shitty People.

  9. Greg B says:

    I don’t think zero was unbeatable. So I disagree with Zo on that point. Especially if there had been a republican candidate of Reagan’s caliber. Which, unfortunately, Romney was not.
    Don’t get me wrong, I was solidly behind the R/R ticket. But conservatives need to STOP trying to be moderate if the base is to be energized. I think that was the point that Zo was trying to make.
    I DO NOT think we are out numbered quite yet, but pointless pandering is not going to get the job done.

  10. Greg B says:

    As for Plan B, I’ve got all kinds of ideas on that front.
    I should start writing them down.