-Caveat Lector- an excerpt from: Blood Rites - Origins & History of the Passions of War Barbara Ehrenreich(C)1997 Metropolitan Books Hennry Holt & Companty ISBN 0-8050-5077-9 ----- I can not say enough about this book. These excerpts do it little justice. I strongly recommend reading this book.Well-written and thoughtful; when all is said and done, the veneer between passions, expectations, propaganda and thought can be very thin. There are chapters on the warrior elites, the sacralization of war, the effect of missle(guns/longbow) warfare and war worship. A very important book. Om K ----- Do you not know that I live by war and that peace would be my undoing?(l) --SIR JOHN HAWKWOOD, ENGLISH FREE COMPANY CAPTAIN DURING THE HUNDRED YEARS WAR 9 THE WARRIOR ELITE Nothing more clearly illustrates the power of war as a culture-shaping force than the eerie parallels between feudal Japan and feudal Europe. Both societies rested on the labor of relatively unfree peasants, and both were ruled by hereditary warrior classes--knights in Europe and bushi, or samurai, in Japan--representing, or at least serving, the landed aristocracy. If, through some magical transposition, a medieval knight and a samurai had met on the same road, they would have immediately recognized each other as kin. Both wore helmets and armor, fought on horseback, rallied to flags emblazoned with dynastic symbols or totems, invested their swords with mystic power, and subscribed to a special warrior ethic--chivalry in Europe, bushido in Japan--which codified, for its adherents, a kind of religion of war. In her study of the bushi tradition, Catharina Blomberg lists these parallels, only to dismiss them as "entirely fortuitous"(2) since, after all, there had been no contact between medieval Europe and Japan. What she misses is the entirely unfortuitous effect of the means of destruction which these two cultures shared: Both employed metal blades to cut human flesh and horses to transport warriors to and about the battlefield. This technology leads to, and even seems to require, the kind of social arrangement we know as feudalism, which has been defined as an "essentially military . . . type of social organization designed to produce and support cavalry."(3) A very similar pattern emerged in precolonial western Africa: a social and economic elite of mounted, knightlike warriors, subscribing to a quasi-religious warrior ethic.(4 ) The knight and the samurai are in some ways special cases, preferring, as they did, to fight at close range with their cherished swords. Other warriors of the pre-gun era, no less proud and individualistic, fought from a distance with metal-tipped arrows propelled by compound bows. The European knight was again and again shocked to encounter, during the Crusades and the various incursions of nomadic Asian "hordes," highly skilled-mounted warriors who announced their attacks with a hail of arrows and used their bladed weapons primarily to dispatch the wounded. But all--swordsmen and archers alike--were part of a system of warfare that depended on the synergy of metal and muscle. The metal could be worked to a point as an arrow tip or pounded to a cutting edge as a sword. The muscle could be that of the human arm alone or that of the arm reinforced by the speed and strength of the horse. Either way, the metal-and-muscle approach to warfare imposed certain common themes on the cultures that engaged in it, whether they did so reluctantly or with zest. The most obvious and fundamental commonality was that the metal-bearing warrior depended on the labor of other, nonwarrior men. In small-scale horticultural societies, such as those of New Guinea or the Amazon Valley, all men are warriors, and the induction to warrior status coincides with the male initiation rite to which all boys are subjected. To be a man, a "real" man, is to be a warrior; ideally the two conditions are indistinguishable. But as the tools of war evolve and become more costly, warrior status narrows to an elite set off from other men as well as women. The Yanomamo warrior made his own weapons and required no "underclass," beyond that represented by his wives, to do his planting and hoeing and cooking. Behind each knight or samurai, however--or, for that matter, each mounted archer--stood a small army of food- producing peasants of both sexes, plus grooms and other servants, as well as miners and craftsmen to manufacture his weapons and armor. For more than 5,000 years, from the beginning of recorded history to A.D. 1500, and over a huge geographical range, the means of destruction centered on this combination of metal and muscle. Bronze weapons and armor first appeared in Mesopotamia at about 3500 B.C. and cheaper iron weapons came into use about 1,300 years later. Horses made their battlefield debut early in the second millennium B.C., pulling sturdy chariots from which men shot arrows and hurled spears. Within a few centuries, the metal-and-muscle-based means of destruction had spread south to northern Africa, west to Europe, and eastward to India, China, and Japan.(5) Lacking horses and the appropriate metals, the warring Mesoamerican civilizations depended on obsidian weapons, wielded by men on foot. But obsidian, no less than iron or copper and tin for bronze, had to be mined, transported, and worked into shape by loyal underlings. There were two possible ways for warrior groups to resolve the problem of their dependence on large numbers of other men. One is represented by stratified societies in which a warrior elite is supported by a nonwarrior class (or classes) and, in return, undertakes to protect this subpopulation from the incursions of other warrior groups--an arrangement often described, roughly speaking, as "civilization." Alternatively, the warrior group might not bother to maintain or protect its own laboring class and sources of materials; it might "live off the land," fulfilling its needs through constant raids and conquests, that is, armed robbery. This approach, utilized by the nomadic fighters who repeatedly harassed settled agricultural communities in both ancient and medieval times, was generally seen by civilized people as a kind of "barbarianism." The Mongol warriors who fought under Genghis Khan, for example, had little need for a permanently subjugated population to support them. In many ways, they constituted one of the most self-sufficient armies ever fielded. Their tough little mares were not only a means of transportation but a source of food, in the form of milk. And unlike the larger horses that bore the weight of armored knights, the Mongol horses grazed on the grass around them, even grass buried under snow, and needed no supplies of special fodder. But for anything else, such as the metal parts of his weaponry, as well as luxuries like bread and wine, the Mongol warrior was utterly dependent on the people whose towns and farms he burned and sacked. The difference between the "civilized" and the "barbarian" approach to warfare was clearly not as great as practitioners of the former liked to think. Although the warrior within a settled society might not extort every meal at sword or spear point, his dominance over the mass of toiling underlings who grew his food and forged his weapons was maintained, ultimately, by force. The exact causal links between the rise of large-scale warfare and the emergence of class societies are still a subject for debate, but it seems unlikely that large numbers of people would submit to lifelong labor on limited rations unless inspired, now and then, by the threat of death. At least we can say, echoing Andrzejewski, that the means of destruction employed in war have again and again done service as the means of domestic repression.(6) Thus a certain brutal logic underlies the "civilized" warring states of the ancient and medieval worlds: The warrior depends for his superior weapons (among other things) on the labor of others, and at the same time, it is his weaponry that enables him to exploit the labor of others. No mob of peasants armed with pitchforks could, for example, hope to topple the armored and mounted knight, who could mow them down with his lance or hack them from on high with his sword. Such a commanding figure must be treated with deference, even with the abject obeisance otherwise reserved for gods. In feudal Japan, a commoner encountering a samurai on the road was expected to dismount, bow deeply with his eyes averted, and pray that he would not become a victim of tsuji-giri, or "crossroads cutting," in which a samurai would use some random common person as material on which to test his sword blade.(7) There is another way, too, in which the "civilized" warrior resembled the "barbarian" raider: The lower class, on whose labor he depended, was very often made up of people different from himself in language and culture, people whose own warrior elite had been previously defeated in war. While the nomadic warrior preyed briefly on each set of victims, looting, destroying, and then moving on, his settled counterpart might prey on the same subjugated people for generations, even eventually becoming genetically intermixed with them. In one stratified society after another, the lower class turns out to be composed wholly or partly of a defeated people or their descendants, ethnically different from the ruling class: the Messenians within Sparta, Israelites within Egypt, Gallic peoples within Roman Europe, African agriculturalists within kingdoms ruled by the descendants of conquering Hamitic pastoralists, Saxons within Norman England.(8) Thus, class divisions have been, in many settings, a product of war. From the point of view of the common people, the "civilized" warrior might be almost as much a "foreign" enemy to his own people as was the dreaded nomad raider from the hinterlands. But at the deepest level, the resemblance between the free-ranging barbarian warrior and his civilized counterpart can best be expressed with a biological metaphor: Both were predators on human life and culture. Historian William H. McNeill describes warrior elites as "macro-parasites," analogous to micro- parasites like bacteria and viruses,(9) and offers the example of the third millennium B.C. Mesopotamian king Sargon, who maintained his army of fifty- four hundred men by constant predation on the surrounding countryside: To keep such a force in being also required annual campaigning, devastating one fertile landscape after another in order to keep the soldiers in victuals. Costs to the population at large were obviously very great. Indeed Sargon's armies can well be compared to the ravages of an epidemic disease that kills a significant proportion of the host population yet by its very passage confers an immunity lasting for several years. (10) The elite warrior must be fed and, in part because of the bursts of muscular energy required by his way of fighting, fed far better than those who grow the grain. He must be clothed and quartered somewhere. His horses, too, if he possesses them, must be fed and quartered and groomed. But he himself neither sows nor reaps, and from the vantage point of the ordinary people, he can be counted on to be a producer of only ruin and death. Cretan warriors from the ninth century B.C. sang--proudly, we may imagine, or perhaps with a wink: My wealth is spear and sword, and the stout shield which protects my flesh; with this I plough, with this I reap, with this I tread the sweet wine from the grape, with this I am entitled master of the serfs (11) Sometimes the elite warrior understood his predatory relationship to the rest of humankind, and may even have felt a vague unease on account of it. In his book The Gods of the Warrior, Rick Fields quotes the seventeenth-century philosopher-samurai Yamaga Soko as wondering: The samurai eats food without growing it, uses utensils without manufacturing them, and profits without buying or selling. What is the justification for this? But Yamaga Soko quickly answers himself: The business of the samurai consists in reflecting on his own station in life, on discharging loyal service to his master if he has one, in deepening his fidelity in associations with friends, and . . . in devoting himself to duty above all.(12) The samurai deserved his special status, in other words, because he was a samurai and ultimately needed no more justification for his predations than, say, a wolf or lion would. In fact, the elite warrior epitomized the human status as predator. He must even have looked to his fellow humans like a member of some far better endowed species. His horse gave him superhuman height, his armor acted as a glittering exoskeleton from which bladed weapons protruded like tusks or claws, while his heraldry might announce his kinship with lions, leopards, eagles, or other threatening animals. Fictive Families If war itself is thought of as something other than human--an abstract system that is "alive" in some formal, mathematical sense and preys on human societies--then warrior elites are the human form it takes. Through much of history it is they, and not the mass of ordinary people, who have made war, sought war, and celebrated war as a heroic, and even religious, undertaking. To the nonwarrior--the peasants, for example, who so often found themselves in the way of thundering warrior hosts--war can be a catastrophe on the scale of plague or famine. To the warrior, though, it is the very condition of life, of a good life, anyway, which women and peasants can never fully share. In war he finds adventure, camaraderie, searing extremes of emotion, proof of manhood, possibly new territory and loot, and always the chance of a "glorious death," meaning not death at all but everlasting fame. In between wars, he keeps the memory of these things alive with recited epics and chansons de geste, reenacts them as duel or tournament, and celebrates them in warlike pageantry. Elite warriors going back to ancient times would have felt well represented by the words of a young German Freikorpsmann who wrote, shortly after World War I, "People told us that the War was over. That made us laugh. We ourselves are the War."(13) In generalizing about warrior elites, we are, of course, gliding recklessly over vast cultural differences and historical changes. Within the European tradition alone, the notion of a warrior elite embraces both the rough-and- tumble men-at-arms of the early Middle Ages and the dandified aristocrats of a much later time. It includes the knight, who fought in a more or less undisciplined, individualistic manner, as well as the officer within a huge bureaucratized army, who may never have fought at all but commanded scores of lesser men to do so. It includes mercenaries who fought for whatever prince could pay their fee, as well as idealists who fought for their god or, later, nation. It includes, too, men who would hardly seem to qualify as members of an elite: poor knights, second sons forced off the ancestral land by primogeniture, men like Don Quixote, for example, who were sometimes little more than beggars bearing arms. If there is any excuse for generalizing about warrior elites, it is that they themselves have freely done so. Their members have again and again understood themselves to be part of one long, unbroken tradition linking father to son and, more generally, the fighting men of one time to those of another. In their own minds, they form a special kind of lineage--of which General Douglas MacArthur's famous image of a "long gray line" of West Point alumni is one fragmentary example-- stretching back thousands of years. It is from this notion of lineage that the warrior derived his most exalted and mystic sense of who he was: not merely a mortal individual, "born of woman," but a link within a far superior tradition, analogous to a priesthood and composed exclusively of men, meaning often only "noble" men. Charioteers and mounted fighters were the founding patriarchs of the lineage, and the "mystique" or "romance" of war still reverberates with their hoofbeats, clashing blades, and hissing storms of arrows and hurled spears. Well into the era of the gun, when chemical energy had decisively replaced the power of human--and eventually even equine--muscle, warriors clung to the spirit and even the paraphernalia of the pre-gun era. Civil War General Stonewall Jackson ordered a thousand pikes (the medieval weapons) for his men.(14) (Whether they were delivered or not, I do not know, but they would hardly have been an effective defense against Union artillery.) The European officer corps entered the First World War expecting to fight on horseback and made only a slow and grudging adaptation to motor vehicles. Similarly, metal blades except for bayonets--were abandoned only recently and with much sorrow and ceremony: In World War II General George Patton claimed that "the saddest moment in his life came when he stood at attention, weeping, as his cavalry regiment marched past to stack their sabers for the last time."(15) In the mind of the warrior, the idea of a warrior lineage stretching back thousands of years is hardly an abstraction. Certainly it was very real to Patton: His family featured generations of distinguished military men; his childhood heroes included Julius Caesar and Alexander the Great; he believed he was the reincarnation of dead heroes, both Confederate and Viking. At a visit to a Civil War battleground sometime in the 1920s, he got into an argument about where exactly a certain general had been standing. The argument was resolved by an elderly veteran, who claimed to have participated in the battle as a boy. "Yes," Patton responded, "I was here too. "(16) Patton may be an extreme case, but elite warriors are generally encouraged to locate themselves within a transnational warrior lineage. West Point's Washington Hall confronts the cadets with a giant mural depicting more than two millennia of military exploits in a mass of spears, arrows, muskets, gas masks, siege engines, and elephants: Cyrus at Babylon, William at Hastings, Meade at Gettysburg, Joffre at the Marne.(17) Where the tradition is historically vague or insufficiently uplifting, imagination has filled in. Nineteenth-century Prussians, for example, saw themselves as the successors of the Spartans and the Assyrians, or rooted their pedigree in medieval times, sometimes describing themselves as "crusaders"(18) Medieval knights, in turn, sought roots in ancient times, through a twelfth-century genre of romances which described the heroes of the Trojan War as if they were medieval knights themselves, complete with suits of armor.(19) Addressing the cadets at West Point, General MacArthur conjured up a ghostly succession of American warriors who were to serve as the superegos of the young. Were the cadets ever to fail in their duty, "a million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki, in blue and gray, would rise from their white crosses, thundering those magic words: Duty, honour, country."(20) For imaginative reach, though, no one has matched the German Nationalist science of "aryanology," which sought to trace the Wehrmacht's ethnic and spiritual lineage back thousands of years to the prehistoric Indo-European armed male band, or Mannerbund. These pseudoscholarly efforts to construct a continuous bloodline of German-Aryan warriors no doubt played a role in Hitler's conception of himself as a member of a "race of Aryan god-men."(21) There has been, at various times and places, a real basis for the warrior's notion of a warrior lineage: Metal-and-muscle technology tended to favor a hereditary warrior elite, with warrior status passed on from father to son, largely because of the cost of equipping each fighting man, especially if he required armor and horses. In medieval Europe, for example, a single knight's equipment was worth the equivalent of about twenty oxen, or the plow teams of ten peasant families.(22) Thus warriors had to be wealthy compared with average people (or, in the case of mercenaries, employed by wealthy men), and wealth took the form of land, which was inherited through the blood lineage, or noble family. Many acres of land, cultivated by peasants, were required to maintain a noble household with its corps of knights and squires; conversely, the extreme social inequality characterizing feudalism could be maintained only by employing armed force, from time to time, against the resentful peasantry. "Feudal aristocracy existed by war and for war," Toynbee wrote; "its power had been founded by arms, and by arms that power was maintained. (23) Much of Europe's warrior elite persisted as an unbroken blood line for centuries, well into the age of guns. To take the case of Prussia, a warrior society par excellence: As late as 1871, 96 percent of officers promoted to the rank of brigadier general were from the landed nobility; by 1914, 58 percent were still men of the landed aristocracy, almost half of them holding titles that dated back to before 1400.(24) Similarly, the pre-World War I British officer corps was rooted in the landed aristocracy, a regimental position being one of the few occupations deemed suitable for a young man of relative wealth and leisure. Thus, right up into the twentieth century, armies have been led disproportionately by men whose surnames included the "de" or "von" of feudal entitlement, whose male relatives had led armies before them, and who took up the sword or the gun as a matter, more or less, of birthright. A Lineage of Men But there is a problem with hereditary lineages based on real blood ties: They consist, by necessity, of two sexes. In the era of muscle-based fighting, few women could have hoped to achieve warrior status, even if custom had not frowned upon such "unwomanly" aspirations. They had little to contribute, from a warrior's point of view, except wombs in which to incubate the next generation of fighting men. According to anthropologist Nancy Jay, the patriarchal imagination has long sought to expunge any other female contribution and construct a lineage of men alone. In Aeschylus's play The Furies--to take a particularly clear-cut example the young, "modern," Olympian gods Apollo and Athena argue that mothers are not truly parents, but only vessels for the father's seed. In the Bible, the long lists of "begats" link male names alone, with only an occasional, almost parenthetical reference to a mother, wife, or sister. Similarly, medieval knights and samurai entered battle prepared to announce their noble antecedents to all potential combatants, but these recitations would normally have included only male names. The suppression of women within warrior elites goes beyond the usual patriarchal imperative of ensuring the orderly transmission of property from father to son. Within warrior elites, marriage was usually politically motivated and used as a means of building alliances between sometimes hostile clans or states. Thus a bride entered her husband's household as a representative of an erstwhile or potential enemy group. She might in fact be treated as an enemy herself, as in this unsettling tale from anthropologist June Nash's study of gender relations among the precontact Mexicans: Shortly after the Aztecs arrived in Chapultepec . . . the Aztecs asked the chief of the Calhuacans, Coxcox, for his daughter in marriage to their chief. According to the Ramierez codex, the god Huitzilopochtli declared that she should be sacrificed. Her father was invited to the wedding party but was appalled when he went into the chamber and found the priest dressed in his daughter's skin.... [This was] an attempt both to assert and [to] validate the combative stance of the Aztecs in the heavily populated valley where they had chosen to live.(25) Or a bride might choose to act as an enemy, a kind of fifth column within her husband's household. Japanese history is filled with stories of loyal daughters serving as treasonous wives or vice versa: brides who were expected to spy on their new family or who were used by their husbands to carry disinformation back to their fathers and brothers. An aphorism attributed to the sixteenth-century daimyo (samurai lord) Takeda Shingen advised that "even when husband and wife are alone together, he should never forget his dagger. (26) Nothing, though, underscores the dilemma of the woman within a warrior elite as strikingly as the myth of the princess Signy in the Norse saga of the Volsungs. Forced by her father to marry a hostile king, Siggeir, she bears him two sons, but she knows them to be potential enemies who might eventually battle her own father and brothers. So, ever the good daughter, Signy arranges for her sons to be killed by her brother. Then, with the help of a sorceress, she assumes a new shape, sleeps with her brother, and bears a son she can finally love: the hero Sinfjotli.(27) If the solution seems drastic, so too was the problem: Exogamy--the requirement that one marry outside one's own immediate clan or blood line--too often condemned a women to life behind enemy lines. The untrustworthiness of women as wives limited even the role they could play as mothers. In any case, practically speaking, warriors are made, not born, and the making of new warriors has been an exclusively male business--a form of "reproduction" in which women play no part at all. In medieval Europe, boys of noble family were taken from their mothers at the age of about seven, to begin their training as pages and then as squires. When a young man was ready to be "girded with the sword" or initiated into knighthood, his father did the honors (until sometime in the twelfth century, when the church took on this role).(28) In the samurais initiation rite of genbuko, performed at age fifteen or sixteen, an older male relative placed the boy's formal bushi robes on him.(29) To the extent that initation rites represent a rebirth, as much ethnography suggests, it is a rebirth to males, obliterating the earlier biological birth from a woman's body. But whatever ceremonies take place in moments of peace, the warrior's true rite of initiation can only be battle itself, and this has been, almost universally, the exclusive business of men. Through his first kill, a young man "earns his spurs," "bloods his spear," or even, as was said by Americans in Vietnam, "loses his virginity," thus marking his rebirth into the world of grown-up men. Informed that his son was hard pressed by the French at the battle of Crecy, King Edward III refused to send him reinforcements, commanding that the English nobles "let the boy win his spurs."(30) Thus, the chronicler Jean Froissart implies, did a loving father ensure his son's ascent to warrior status. Some men are so altered by the experience of battle that they can never again be at ease in the mundane world which women also inhabit. They will become permanent warriors: Crusaders who, on returning from the Holy Land, devoted themselves to battling European heretics; English knights who refused to stop fighting during truces in the Hundred Years War but remained in France as freebooting marauders; Civil War veterans who left the battlefields of the American East to battle Indians in the West; German officers who, -after the First World War, led the reactionary Freikorps that terrorized the German working class--and who went on to form the corps of Hitler's brown-shirted storm troopers, the S.A.* [*In our own time, too, the laid-off I warrior can be a constant menace, often to his own people as well as to his erstwhile enemies. Afghani men, inducted into warriorhood during their nation's war with the Soviet Union, stock the world's supply of Islamic terrorists. American veterans of recent wars have found ways to extend their warrior days by joining right-wing militias and, in a few notorious cases, engaging in domestic terrorism.] As the German literary scholar Klaus Theweleit's study of the Freikorps men makes clear, a major attraction of their way of life was that it was virtually woman-free. He quotes, for example, from a fascist novel in which a Freikorps commander is described admiringly as having "no idea there are such things as women.(31) War is not the only way, of course, that men have sought to create lineages free of women. Priesthoods and certain professions or crafts have often served the same function, with skills and lore being passed from one generation of males to the next, often through special ceremonies of initiation. Property, too, has usually been transmitted from man to man, and, according to Jay, one function of blood sacrifice in ancient religions was to define, through ritual, the male-only lineage required for inheritance: 'What is needed to provide clear evidence of social and religious paternity is an act as definite and available to the senses as childbirth." In her account, this act was sacrifice, with the right to participate in the sacrifice marking the boundaries of true kin for the purposes of inheritance. "Sacrificing," she wrote, "produces and reproduces forms of intergenerational continuity generated by males, transmitted by males, and transcending community through women."(32) Or, to quote a Hindu text, the Maitrayani-Samhita, "In truth man is unborn. It is through sacrifice that he is born."(33) Jay died at the peak of her career, but if she had lived to consider the postsacrificial era, she would no doubt have observed that the rite that eventually came to define an elite male lineage was not the slaughter of animals at the altar, but the slaughter of men in war. The battle itself has often been conceived as "one great sacrificial action,"(34) according to classicist Walter Burkert, with the mounds of the dead sometimes serving as the "meat" meant to feed the gods. Among some ancient northern European tribes, the dead of both sides were viewed as sacrificial offerings, and the ravens who ate them were seen as representatives of the deity to whom the sacrifice was offered.(35) In the oldest Hindu epic, the Mahabharata, the final battle becomes a sacrificial ritual presided over by the god Krishna: "Trembling and quivering, they were slain like animals in a sacrifice."(36) If battle is a kind of sacrifice and sacrifice is, according to Jay, a kind of birth, we can infer that battle has served at times as a peculiar means of reproduction. Battle makes a warrior out of a boy; and his rebirth as a warrior, no less than his original birth, is marked by the shedding of blood. In extreme, or perhaps ideal, cases, warriors dispense with biology altogether and reproduce themselves entirely through the mechanism of war. The Janissary armies that fought for Muslim princes in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries were celibate, at least in regard to women, as were the medieval European warrior-monks, the Knights Templars and Knights Hospitalers. Shaka, the nineteenth-century Zulu king and military genius, did not allow his men to marry until they reached middle age, and threatened to kill any of his concubines who became pregnant.(37) Such pure and dedicated warriors need no heirs except the young men they initiate through battle, no family but the half-imagined warrior lineage. Warriors make wars, but it is also true that, in what has so far been an endless reproductive cycle, war makes warriors. pp.144-158 --notes-- Chapter 9 1. Quoted in Seward, The Hundred Years War, p. 15. 2. Blomberg, The Heart of the Warrior, p. 125. 3. White, L., quoted in Goody, Technology, Tradition and the State in Africa, p. 34. 4. Ibid., pp. 36-37. 5. McNeill, The Pursuit of Power, pp. 8-11. 6. Andrzejewski, Military Organization and Society, pp. 28 33. 7. Blomberg, p. 47. 8. The African example is from Andrzejewksi, p. 32. 9. McNeill, Pursuit, p. vii. 10. Ibid., p. 2. 11. Quoted in Keegan, The History of Warfare, p. 242. 12. Quoted in Fields, The Code of the Warrior, pp. 187-88. 13. Quoted in Waite, Vanguard of Nazism, p. 42. 14. From the War of Rebellion: Offcial Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, ser. 1, vol. 12, part 3 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1885), p. 844. 15. Atkinson, The Long Gray Line, p. 58. 16. Nye, The Patton Mind, p. 6. 17. Atkinson, p. 39. 18. Vagts, A History of Militarism, p. 18. 19. Barber, Richard, The Knight and Chivalry, p. 45. 20. Quoted in Anderson, Imagined Communities, p. 9, n. 2. 21. Goodrick-Clarke, The Occult Roots of Nazism, pp. 192-204. 22. Goody, p. 35. 23. Quoted in Schmookler, The Parable of the Tribes, p. 165. 24. Kolko, Century of War, p. 47. 25. Nash, June, "The Aztecs and the Ideology of Male Dominance," Signs 4 (1978-9): 349. 26. Quoted in Turnbull, Samurai Warlords, p. 105. 27. Byock, The Saga of the Volsungs, pp. 40-43. 28. Barber, Richard, pp. 38-39. 29. Blomberg, p. 97. 30. Froissart, Chronicles, p. 92. 31. Quoted in Theweleit, Male Fantasies, p. 33. 32. Jay, Throughout Your Generations Forever, p. 32. 33. Quoted in Eliade, Rites and Symbols of Initiation, p. 55. 34. Quoted in Fields, p. 76. 35. Davidson, Myths and Symbols in Pagan Europe, p. 98. 36. Hiltebeitel, The Ritual of Battle, p. 319. See also O'Flaherty, The Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology, p. 261. 37. Ritter, Shaka Zulu, pp. 308-9. pp.257-258 ----- Aloha, He'Ping, Om, Shalom, Salaam. Em Hotep, Peace Be, Omnia Bona Bonis, All My Relations. Adieu, Adios, Aloha. Amen. Roads End Kris DECLARATION & DISCLAIMER ========== CTRL is a discussion and informational exchange list. Proselyzting propagandic screeds are not allowed. Substance—not soapboxing! 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