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News Bureaus Box 900, Beverly Hills, California 90213 444 West 56th Street, New York, N.Y. 10019 PREFACE

"/ don't yield to any man in my reverence to the Lord but Goddamnit! no sermon needs to take longer than 10 minutes." George S. Patton, Jr.

Pattern is controversy burned into film, a closeup portrayal of will under strain, of oversized figures, the tale of perhaps the most aggressive and flamboyant commander ever to wear an American uniform and his command relationship with cool-headed, courageous Omar N. Bradley, first his subordinate finally his superior and today the only surviving five-star general of World War II. Patton is the story of a warlord, a samurai, a millionaire soldier whose career reads like a fever chart, a man with flinty courage, big hurts and a scathing tongue, a superpatriot who was also anti-Establishment of another ilk.

In the popular image the great commanders are dazzling figures, standing on their mounds at the edge of battle and guiding its cold currents and compulsive course, bending a million men to their will, mocking fear and death. They are unique characters to be sure, they are neither omnipotent nor omniscient, however, but bound by the elements of war. George S. Patton read history and quoted Seneca and Napoleon. He liberated more territory than any other Allied commander in World War II, was a proconsul of a a piece of African real estate he called a mixture of the Bible and Hollywood, yelled defiances against Field Marshal Edwin Rommel into the desert wind, slapped a common soldier and was demoted in a move that even dumbfounded Adolf Hitler. He ran an army in ways his superiors thought was not always wise; he spoke out on issues he thought he had a right to bring up and he took positions that were not popular at the time. He was America's hero at war's end and the Army's hottest potato six months later when he died in an auto accident on a rain-slick highway in the country he had conquered.

Patton is the story of a man who didn't travel with the crowd. 9m

Gen. George S. Gen. Omar N. Bradley Patton, Jr. (Karl Maiden) (George C. Scott)

Field Marshal Field Marshal Bedell Smith Bell Truscott Bernard Montgomery Edwin Rommel (Ed Binns) (Lawrence Dobkin) (John Doucette) (Miehael Bates) (Karl Michael Vogler)

Meeks Davenport Jenson Steiger Tank Commander (James Edwards) (Frank Latimore) (Morgan Paull) (Siegfried Ranch) (Clint Ritchie)

Codman Carver Hansen Welkin Soldier Who Gets Slapped (Paul Stevens) (Michael Strong) (Stephen Young) (Peter Barkworth) (Tim Considine)

Alexander Sergeant Mimms Bridges De Gningand Willie (Jack Gwillim) (Bill Hickman) (Cass Martin) (Douglas Wilmer) (Willie) Why "Ration"?

By George C. Scott

The people in pain today are the children of the pain of the Second World War; they don't understand it, but they're not alone. We didn't understand it either. Patton possessed qualities and elements in his personality that are sadly lacking today, in men today.

In our leaders, our gods, our — oh what a strange word to use! — our heroes, such qualities in dimension are lacking. Immortality of individuality is one of the gifts of God — if there is a God. At least it's a gift of mankind and history and this man had this. Everybody said that General Patton, even 25 years ago, was a 16th Century personality.

I chose to believe in a film saying something about this man.

And what has this man to say?

That there is no safety in numbers. You live and you die alone — he knew it and lived it. To me the most reprehensible thing about young people today is the herd instinct. To form together like cattle which means denying the beauty of the individual soul and personality. This, I think, may be the only message this man has to give to us.

If that is the only message, it's the Goddamndest finest one we've had come along in a long time. I'm not talking about the respect of the individual and the absolute rejection of the cattle instinct that apparently possesses and obsesses young people today.

Inwardly we should perhaps think about what war is. We have lived countless hundreds of years and apparently have not found the secret of living together as rational human beings. The history of this last quarter century might have read a little differently if anyone had listened to a man like Patton.

It is my conviction that had Patton been in charge, the war would have been perceptibly shortened, with thousands and thousands less casualties, and our position as far as the taking of Prague, the taking of Berlin would have been different. Our position today would have been different as regards to Russia.

Anybody can 'if history. I'm not trying to do that. What I'm trying to say is, suppose we had had the foresight to go along with him? It's such a fascinating prospect, the mind cannot refuse to deal with it and to think about it. But foremost, about Patton, I believe this man was an individual in the deepest sense of the word. And the beauty of the individual soul and the individual personality is the message, isn't it? The Stars

Sparks /Jv \vhen George C. Scott appears and, like the man he portrays in Putton, he has a way of getting under people's skin.

The explosive Mr. Scott, as he has been called, is Pattern, period. His handling of the Slapping Scene was one of many examples. "This was a scene separating the men from the boys," said director Franklin J. Schaffner in yet another compliment to the actor. Another highlight that had blase film technicians break out in spontaneous applause when it was filmed was the opening sequence. Here, Scott acted out a lengthy (IM-script page) monologue so flawlessly that only one master take was needed.

It is a measure of his talents that George Campbell Scott has remained untyped, shifting with equal success from Shakespeare comedy to poolroom realism, from on and off-Broadway to Hollywood and back again. Patton is only Scott's eighth film. Born in Wise County, Va., Scott reached stardom as a heavy and earned soaring acclaim as a superbly cynical gambler in "The Hustler," as an ice-eyed policeman who stalked Sir Lawrence Olivier in TV's "The Power and the Glory," as a rasping, vicious prosecutor in Broadway's "The Andersonville Trial" — not to forget his incarnation of the Pentagon general who would rather see the world blow up in nuclear war than condemn strategy in "Dr. Strange-love." Scott last appeared on Broadway in Neil Simon's outrageously funny play, "Plaza Suite."

KARL MALDEN came to the role of Omar N. Bradley with an acting experience honed in 30 films, yet after two months in the flesh of the "G.I. General," the actor with the imposing nose said he was still learning. A lesson in restraint, he said.

Before undertaking the task of playing the only living U.S. five-star general, Maiden visited the 76-year-old former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to learn everything he could. Going over the script one day, Maiden said "but General, there is one scene where I have to explode!" The scene, filmed in Northern Spain in April, shows Bradley having it out with Patton, saying in a last exasperated moment, "No, I didn't pick you, Ike picked you." The line really hurts and Maiden felt instinctively he should play it with a raised voice. "Don't raise the voice, just look him straight in the eyes and say it, very calmly," Bradley told Maiden.

A vigorous actor who brings an inquiring mind to whatever interests him, Maiden says acting is something you don't talk about, but something you do. Knowledge of people is implicit in his acting.

There's one great thing that you men can say when it's all over, and you're home once more. You can thank God that twenty years from now, when you're sitting by the fireside with your

grandson on your knee and he asks what you did in the war, you won't have to shift him to

the other knee, cough, and say, "I shoveled crap in Louisiana." — Patton Hum K.I I I M.ildrn Slxcnla\i DII M.ni 11 22. \»\ in (i.nx . Indiana, tin son <>l ,i \u<;usla\. In- nun nl ,i /me alMctc ;il school and it \s an athletic scholarship lluil took him In the \ikansas St.vtc Tcac'/ier'.s College. I'"'" \cars later, he left for Chicago to attend tin- Goodman InstHule dramatic classes. paving hi.s \vav l>\\g professional basketball. There he got an intoxicating \\hiil of gveusevKiinl, changed his name to Maiden and lit out for New York and the Big White Way. Despite the usvuiA disappointments. Maiden made steady progress from the Group Theater's production of "Golden Boy," to the Actor's Studio and forged several friendships which were to last a lifetime: Richard Widmark, EJia Kazan and Marlon Brando, to name a few. When Kazan became a Broadway director, he used Maiden whenever he could. The breakthrough, of course, was "A Streetcar Named Desire," not only for Maiden, but for Brando and the little-known playwright, Tennessee Williams.

As Pcitton is war from the command hill, both Patton and Bradley are surrounded by staff officers, portrayed by such stage and film character actors as Michael Strong, Paul Stevens, Morgan Paull, Stephen Young and Frank Latimore. Field Marshals Montgomery and Rommel are played by, respectively, London veteran Michael Bates and Germany's Karl Michael Vogler. In all, Patton features 94 speaking parts.

An army is a team; lives, sleeps, eats, fights as a team.

This individual heroic stuff is a lot of crap.

— Patton The Producer

That Flunk McCarthy is the producer of Patton is no wonder, for the energetic bachelor's iivst memorandum proposing the project to Dairy! F. Zanuck, now President of 20th Century-Fox, was dated October 21, 195 i.

A retired brigadier general himself, McCarthy was Assistant Secretary and later Secretary of the War Department General Staff during World War II. He came to know General Patton personally, as well as to observe his troubles and triumphs at close range.

McCarthy came to film production Irom a background of remarkable variety and distinction. He had been a college instructor, newspaper reporter, press agent, army officer and diplomat in rarefied circles.

Commissioned second lieutenant in the Army Reserve upon receiving his BA from the Virginia Military Institute and later his MA from the University of Virginia, McCarthy went on active duty in 1940, advanced through the grades and achieved the rank of brigadier general in 1957. In addition to his other wartime duties, he was Military Secretary to General of the Army George C. Marshall, Chief of Staff. He served for two years as liaison officer between General Marshall and President Roosevelt. After the war he was appointed Assistant Secretary by James F. Byrnes, U.S. Secretary of State.

In 1946, McCarthy joined the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA), serving as assistant to the vice president and later as European manager. Three years later, Darryl Zanuck placed him under contract and he now serves under Richard D. Zanuck, Executive Vice President in Charge of Production.

McCarthy was co-producer of "Decision Before Dawn" in 1950 and producer of "Sailor of the King" in 1951. After a long term as a studio executive, he resumed production with "A Guide for the Married Man" in 1967. On his future schedule is "Tom Swift and His Wizard Aeroship," to be directed by Gene Kelly, also for 20th-Fox.

Attack rapidly, ruthlessly, viciously, without rest.

However tired and hungry you may be, the enemy will be more tired, more hungry.

Keep punching. — Patton The Director

Franklin J. Schaffner feels his sixth film is a character study, the tale of a devoted, even patriotic r American \vho was also honestly anti-Establishment, a general who spoke on issues and took positions that were not at all popular with either his superiors in particular or his contemporaries in general.

If Schaffner's string of films is short, each is exquisite filmmaking whether it is his Swiftian "Planet of the Apes, the biting wit of "The Best Man" or medieval forebodings of "The War Lord." And, wrote Andrew Sards in "The American Cinema" in 1968, "the film industry has not (yet) given his talents the opportunities they deserve." Patton is Schaffner's biggest and, with 71 locations on three continents in less than four months, his most exhausting film. There was the biting snow of the High Sierras in Spain and the cruel heat of the North African desert. Schaffner lost 14 pounds and, as he grins, his film is not even a war story but a character study, filmed close up.

Such searing portrayals add up to Schaffherian cinema. The director's work, which critics noted with his very first pictures, gives an edge to characters, an edge going far beyond the lines of his screenplays. His capacity for drawing out his actors and the sense of the immediate which he brings to his films, owes something to his experience in directing for television and the stage — during the formative years of TV particularly. After some time as an assistant director with the March of Time, he joined CBS television to spend his early training covering public events, sports and political conventions. After four years with Studio One, Schaffner worked two years on "Playhouse 90" and, in all, won four Emmies in television. His stage direction of "Advise and Consent" was a huge Broad- way success, in 1961, which lead to his first film contract (with 20th Century-Fox).

Schaffner was born in Tokyo and spent the first years of his life in Japan with his missionary parents. When his father died, Franklin and his mother returned to the U.S., and settled in Lancaster, Pa. Upon his release from the Navy after World War II with the rank of a lieutenant, Schaffner intended to study law and settled behind the cameras.

'Oh Brad, can't you see? The Czechs are our 'allies'

consequently their women aren't off limits.

On to Czechoslovakia and fraternization!"

— Patton The Writers

Kraiic/.s /'"on/ ( ,'oppolu is. at 30, Hollywood's voungest director, the maker ol "The Uatu People. "Fininn's Rainbow" and "You're a Big Boy Now." When he wrote Patton, he was Filmlands youngest. screenwriter — or almost.

Together with Gore Yidal, Coppola had written "Is Paris Burning?" when McCarthy approached him, feeling that a biographical picture about Patton would be written with most objectivity and least inhibition by someone who was not even there, someone who was an infant when WWII was fought. Coppola gave that "fresh look," while veteran writer and former arm}' officer Edmund North provided structure, form, polish and accuracy to the screenplay. North has written such other militarv movies as "Sink the Bismarck" and "H.M.S. Defiant." as well as the sci-fi landmark "The Day the Earth Stood Still." The screenplay is based on, among other sources, Ladislas Farago's 800-page "Patton: Ordeal and Triumph" (Ivan Obolonskv. New York 1964) and Gen. Omar N. Bradley's "A Soldier's Storv" (Henrv Holt & Co., New York, 1951).

Technical credits include:

Chief Military Adviser General of the Army Omar N. Bradley, USA Technical Adviser General Paul D. Harkins, USA (ret.) Associate Producer Frank Caffev Director of Photography Fred Koenekamp Sound Don Bassman Art Director Uric McCleary Editor Hugh Fowler Special Effects Alex Welclon Property Master Dennis Parrish Production Manager Chico Day Assistant Directors Eli Dunn Jose Lopez Rodero Second Unit Director Mickey Moore Casting Mike McLean

When Samson took the fresh jawbone of an ass and slew a thousand men therewith, he probably started such a vogue for the weapon, especially among the Philistines, that for years no prudent donkey dared to bray. History is replete with countless other instances of military implements, each in its day heralded as the last work — the key to victory. New weapons are useful in that they add to the repertoire of killing, but, be they tank or tomahawk, weapons are only weapons.

— Patton The Locations

Patton was as inohiJe as the general's own armies, filming at 71 locations on three continents. Starting February 3, 1969 in snowy Segovia in Central Spain, Schaffner wrapped principal photography at Aranjuez, near Madrid, May 21. The filming took place in six countries and most of the cast and Jcey technicians logged up the equivalent of a trip around the world in less than four months.

The bulk of the photography could have been done nowhere in the world except Spain because only the Spanish Army could furnish the necessary WWII equipment, together with officers and men who were happy to gain additional experience in maneuvers at the expense of a film company. Further, only Spain could provide landscapes and architectural variety sufficiently different to simulate locations in Tunisia, Italy, France and Germany.

The Battle of the Bulge was staged in the Segovia highlands, 80 miles northwest of Madrid, while the Africa and Sicilian campaigns, including the El Guettar battle employing 2,000 extras, were shot around Almeria, in Southernmost Spain. While military pomp was filmed at Rabat, Morocco, the Pamplona region of Basque Spain doubled for France of 1944. The amphibious operations of the 1943 Sicily landing were shot in Crete, Greece and Sicily, and inimitable English village Knutsford, near Manchester, where Patton had his 1944 headquarters, was filmed in ... Knutsford.

Interiors were filmed at Sevilla Films, Madrid and Fox's Hollywood studios.

Fire Power

The fire power of Patton would have made any insurrectional army happy. In fact, modern nations have been taken, or liberated, with fewer weapons than there were in the Fox arsenal. In strict military parlance, Patton was filmed at infantry battalion strength.

Steel-helmeted prop master Dennis Parrish estimated at Almeria that he could arm a regiment (3,250 men) and for the re-enactment of the Battle of El Guettar dressed and armed 2,100 extras. In small arms fire, Patton had 250,000 rounds of ammunition — all blanks. Special effects chief Alex Weldon's arsenal didn't con- tain black gun powder alone, but also dynamite — the latter for effects of velocity.

The Patton air force — furnished, as most of the heavy hardware, by the Spanish armed forces — totalled 17 WWII planes: four Heinkels, four Messerschmidts, six T-6s, three Nords and one observation plane. The armor added up to 54 tanks: 34 German Tigers (converted M-48s) and 20 U.S. M-41s and M-42s. In artillery, Patton mustered 30 cannons, six mortars and four German flame-throwers. The breakdown of smallarms: Machineguns: 64 machineguns mounted on vehicles, 15, 30 and 50-caliber, and 35 sub-machineguns. Anti-aircraft guns: Four each of German 88mm and 20mm automatics; four 90mm U.S. and four 40mm Bofors automatics; six German MG 34s and 37 Schmeisers. Rifles: 750 practical rifles and 860 dummies. "About the only thing we didn't have were torpedoes," grinned Parrish. "But then again, Patton fought no naval battles. History's Last Big Battle

This rear murks the 25th anniversary of the Battle of the Bulge, the last major Gorman oRVnswo of World War II, that Schaffner shot in the High Sierras of Central Spain in February. The \raU\ took place in the dead of a bad winter just west of the German border in the difficult terrain ot" the Ardennes forest of Belgium. It is History's last big battle, costing 176,000 casualties —76,000 on the Allied side.

The Battle of the Bulge, has been characterized as Adolf Hitler's final desperate gamble, the last straw at which he grabbed, but historians — and Patton — hold that nothing could be further from the truth.

The Ardennes offensive was a major and carefully conceived maneuver, not merely to avert the defeat of the Third Reich, but also to administer a decisive blow to the Allies. It was developed long in advance and prepared with exceptional care, respectable ingenuity and considerable investment in human and material resources. The Germans launched the offensive December 16, 1944 and what was to become known (in Winston Churchill's phrase) as the Battle of the Bulge was to last 42 days. Under Field Marshal von Rundstadt's overall command, 200,000 Germans attacked with all they had, from specially souped-up tanks to spoiling side attacks, making deep penetrations before General Eisenhower in Versailles and General Bradley in his Luxembourg headquarters knew what to make of the situation.

On December 16, Patton was in Nancy at his Third Army headquarters preparing his Saar campaign when Bradley phoned and ordered Patton to stop the 10th Armored Division from whatever it was doing and transfer it to the 8th Corps up north that same night.

When December 17, a Sunday, dawned, the Ardennes offensive was in full bloom, with the German high command accurately assessing and hitting the weakest point in the 400-mile long Allied front — the 8th Corps sector. Before the total pattern of the German drive was clear, an improvised Allied meeting at Eisenhower's headquarters assigned to Patton's army what was to become a historical role — hurtling north in a turnabout movement to go to the relief of an insignificant little market town called Bastogne, of immense strategic value. Without Bastogne's seven-fold road network the Germans were unable to implement their spearhead thrusts many miles to the west. The Germans had now to turn their thrust from the west and the northwest to the south. The moment they did so — and that moment was two days before Christmas, 1944 — the whole purpose of the Ardennes offensive was invalidated as their tactics changed from offensive to defensive.

That was the importance of Bastogne. For a week, Schaffner and crew waited at Balsain, near Segovia, for snow. Finally it came — hard and fast, throwing men and machines into forever longer skids. If, on the screen, Patton's GIs look cold and mean, it's because filming then was just that.

Unscheduled snow items: — After his Spanish chauffeur refused to drive, Karl Maiden, commuting from Madrid 80 miles away, arrived at the location — by train. — When McCarthy's chauffeur ended a U-turn maneuver in a ditch, the producer hitch-hiked to the La Granja location with an army truck. — Sale of cognac at the La Granja cafe soared tenfold. Gloves and headgear were sold out in one hour and 20th Century-Fox issued boots sold at black-market prices. — Cows, driven by instinct to lower levels, ruined at least one take for second unit director Mickey Moore, walking into a line-up of German tanks. The Slap That Held Up A War

McCarthy and Schaffner refused to close the set for the restaging of the celebrated 'slapping incident' that put a conqueror in the doghouse, but they didn't invite the world press either to witness Scott hittinog the common soldier. What contributed most to Patton's fall from stardom was this so-called 'slapping incident' of August 10, 1943 that caused an uproar on the home front and forced Allied Commander Dwight Eisenhower to relieve the bold, swaggering, pistol-packing general of his command until after the 1944 D-Day landing in Normandy. / A professional soldier all his life, Patton was a leader of men who felt it was his duty to make regular visits to the bedside of wounded soldiers. Nervous and over-worked, Patton became enraged when, during his visit, he came upon a patient, who stated he was sick with high fever. When asked what his trouble was, the soldier replied, "It's my nerves," and began to sob. Patton yelled: "Your nerves, hell, you are just a goddamn coward, you yellow son-of-a-bitch." He then slapped the man, saying "Shut up that goddamn crying. I won't have these brave men here who have been shot seeing a yellow bastard sitting here crying."

The incident was hushed up at first. At first blush, Eisenhower was not unduly alarmed and had in mind to keep the matter strictly in the family. It had taken less than 24 hours, however, for the story to reach the press camp, but newsmen agreed to hush up the affair, although they went to Ike for clarification on whether Patton had subjected himself to general court-martial by striking an enlisted man under his command.

Impressed by Eisenhower's sincerity, his handling of the case and his obvious need of Patton in the difficult campaign for Sicily, newsmen and radio reporters agreed to refrain from breaking the story. Patton himself realized his impetuous conduct was having repercussions.

On November 21, however, the scandal burst into the open when Drew Pearson — who was not bound by the gentleman's agreement — "exposed" one of the accidents on ABC network. Congressmen immediately began to receive letters — most from mothers of soldiers. Example: "If our boys are to be mistreated let's import Hitler and do it right."

Despite the military considerations that Patton's retention in high command was of the utmost interest to the war effort, the general was relieved from his assignment on January 22, 1944 and assigned to duty in Britain that kept him out of public view for more than six months.

The soldier slapped is played by Tim Considine whose previous credits are TV's "Mickey Mouse Club" and "My Three Sons."

There are probably as many ways of winning a war as there are of skinning a cat.

— Patton "Pattern" Babel

The working languages of Patton, were English and Spanish, but the traditional "Roll 'em" and "Cut!" were also sung out in Greek, French, and Arabic. Add to this seven German-speaking parts and the complexities of big-time international filmmaking come into focus.

Besides his quadri-lingual first assistant director Jose Lopez Rodero, director Schaffner had local assistants in the various countries outside Spain where the roadshow production was filmed. All call sheets and important notices to the crew that, at times, swelled to several hundred, were bilingual — Spanish and English of course, but in Morocco, the working language was as often French when not Arabic.

To add to the realism of Patton, McCarthy and Schaffner agreed Germans appearing on the screen should speak German, not mauled English as in traditional war films. The principal German protagonists are Karl-Michael Vogler, Siegfried Raugh and Richard Munch — all three actors with more than a working knowledge of English. Yet they spoke only German on camera.

In Morocco, the part of one of the Sultan's officials was fleshed out by Alain Dumortier, a Belgian serving as assistant production manager on the film's staff.

The Only Girl In "Patton

The only girl in Patton is a pin-up torn from the wall of army barracks. But what a girl!

Twenty-five-year-old Sally Frei, whose vital statistics measure 36-24-36, is the shapely actress who posed for the still cameras as the 1943 pin-up that raises General Patton's wrath.

"I was interviewed by the producer (Frank McCarthy) with several other girls," stated Miss Frei. "I was fitted in a bathing suit made up from an actual 1940 pin-up."

In acting for the past few years, *lie California-bred brunette has done work in several motion pictures and such television programs as "The Virginian," "Petticoat Junction," and "Gidget," along with many television commercials.

Miss Frei was "discovered" while working as a stewardess for Western Airlines by an actor who thought she had possibilities for motion pictures. Prior to that, and even now, she has worked as a model.

"Of course you see women in various crowd scenes, but — yes, Sally is the only girl in the picture," said Schaffner.

If the army is a lobster, tanks are its claws. — Patton Ugly Willie

Until he met actor extraordinaire George C. Scott, Willie was just an ugly English white pit bull terrier. Onee in front of the Dimension 150 cameras, he not only became a scene stealer, but succeeded in rewriting part of the script.

At the Battle of the Bulge, Patton exhorts his GIs to keep moving through ice and mud. As written, the screenplay had Willie sitting huddled on the general's jeep blanket, watching. As the scene was finally filmed, only his nose protrudes from the blanket, and when a GI passes, Willie gives the shivering soldier a sniff and a lick.

Again, in Patton's headquarters, tense men stand around maps of the Ardennes front. Willie was trained to put a paw up on a map table to be patted. During the take, however, he leapt all the way up onto the table sending a dozen maps flying.

Schaffner was about to call out "Cut!", but held his breath. Willie, panicky at what he had done, start- ed to beg. The top brass around the table chortled and the laughs momentarily broke the tension.

Operation Kilts

How do you whip 28 international beach bums, hippies, dropouts and artists into a bagpipe-tooting Scottish regiment in four days?

You lure two sergeants of the Scots Guards away from Buckingham Palace and give them a good-sized football field. Drum Major Brian Abatholl and David McLoed landed — with kilts flying — on windswept Almeria airport and four days later presented cigar-chewing Schaffner with a bekilted and bebagpiped detail for immediate service in Patton.

"A rather motley crew," grinned staff' sergeant Abatholl politely during a morning drill with his 28 movie extras. "But better than I had expected." Recruited by John Scott, a towering Dutchman living in Spain, the 28 men were found in the Costa del Sol city, in Almeria, along the Malaga and the artists colony of Torremolinos. For 750 pesetas ($10) a clay, they consented to shaves, haircuts and four days' drilling by Abatholl and McLoed before going before the cameras as part of Field Marshal Sir Bernard Montgomery's celebrated Eighth Army. Most were Americans and Canadians, but the regiment also had three Englishmen, three Germans, one Dutchman, one Norwegian — and one Spaniard. The casting requisite was that they "look Scottish."

"And one Scotsman," whispers McLoed, causing Abatholl to blush for having forgotten a landsman. "They do look slightly Scottish — if you squint your eyes a bit."

Always grab your enemy by the nose, and kick him in the ass. Patton Short Biography Of General George S. Patton, Jr.

Perhaps the most controversial commander ever to wear the American uniform was born on November 11, 1885, in Pasadena, California, and died December 21, 1945, following an automobile accident on the Frankfurt-Mannheim highway. He is buried at the huge Military Cemetery at Hamm in Luxembourg, among 6,000 other men of his celebrated Third Army. Of old Scottish stock, George Smith Patton, Jr., born into wealth, spent his first college year at the Virginia Military Institute, alma mater of his father and his grandfather, before receiving his appointment to the United States Military Academy, from which he was graduated in 1909. Beatrice Ayer (1887-1952), was the daughter of a Massachusetts textile magnate, and their marriage was a union of informal, unsophisticated western wealth and New England industrial aristocracy. The Pattons had three children, two daughters — Beatrice and Ruth Ellen — and a son, another George Patton, today a colonel, recently awarded the Distinguished Service Cross in Vietnam. Patton was a lonely man. He lived rambunctiously in a self-made world, with arbitrary conventions of his own design, groping all the time to be understood and loved. Except for two persons — his wife and his brother-in-law, Frederick Ayer — he barricaded himself from all the rest of the people surrounding him with wild gestures and strong, uncouth words. He dreaded that at close quarters they might come upon this great and mysterious secret of his life. From earliest childhood, Patton had two loves — soldiering and classics. He played combat and studied the lives of Napoleon, Wellington, Caesar and other leaders of men, yet he had no political ambitions. He considered himself a soldier in the noblest sense of the word, loved war, and, by the end of his life, was a legend. "Spectacular, swaggering, pistol-packing, deeply religious and violently profane, easily moved to anger because he was first of all a fighting man, easily moved to tears because underneath all his mannered irascibility he had a kind heart, he was a strange combination of fire and ice," wrote the New York Times in its editorial two days after his death, December 23, 1945. Patton was, ironically, "too old" when he performed his brilliant role in World War II. Arriving in France with General Pershing in 1917, as a junior aide, Patton saw action during the last months of World War I, lived through the 20s and 30s in dignified otiosity, living in grand style at various army bases before returning to armor, a man of 55, in 1940. In 1942, Patton was given command of the first American task force to enter the war against Germany, landing on the coast of Morocco in November that year. Midway through the North African campaign, President Roosevelt insisted that an American be named chief of Allied forces and Dwight Eisenhower was given the post. Landing in Sicily alongside Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery — his rival throughout the war — Patton was publicly rebuked following two so-called slapping incidents during the Sicilian campaign. As a result, he did not take part in D-Day, but landed in Normandy a month after the Allied invasion. He was given command of the Third Army, however — in Bradley's shadow — and, dashing across France in a daring run, regained his country's affection and his army's loyalty. Top Allied jealousies and classical thinking halted Patton east of Paris in 1944, until Montgomery had moved further into Belgium — a measure that historians still debate. Patton's finest hour was probably the Ardennes offensive of the winter 1944-45, where his army liberated encircled Bastogne. During the final days of the war, Patton's army was less than 60 miles from Prague, when it was ordered not to liberate the Czech capital, considered a Russian plum. Patton became the "proconsul" of Bavaria and startled politicians by refusing to denazify and by uttering disparaging remarks about the Soviet allies. This made him the eye of a new hurricane, yet at his death, although still controversial, he was one of the foremost heroes of World War II or any other war. Short Biography Of General Omar N. Bradley

No general of World War II was closer to his men that Omar N. Bradley, nicknamed, by legendary war correspondent Ernie Pyle, "The G.I. General."

Bradley, wrote Pyle, insisted "on keeping his command post up close, sometimes distressingly close, behind the front lines." The reason was that this unique commander wanted to know not only the exact situation first hand, but also the stress placed on his men.

From field aide to General Dwight Eisenhower in North Africa in 1943, Bradley became commander of the Second U.S. Corps in Tunisia. Tapped to head American field forces for the Normandy invasion, Bradley landed in France as commanding general of the First Army, assumed command of the XII Army Group which guided the four U.S. field armies — a total of 1.3 million combat troops — in the drive to Nazi Germany's defeat in 1945.

After the war, Bradley became the army Chief of Staff, succeeding Eisenhower, and, in 1949, the first Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Born in Clark, Missouri, February 12, 1893, Omar Nelson Bradley was christened Omar for an editor friend of the family and Nelson for the local doctor. The son of the former Sarah Elizabeth Hubbard and John Smith Bradley, Bradley graduated from West Point in 1915 as a second lieutenant in the Infantry and rose through the ranks to be a division commander in 1942 before the North African assignment.

Eisenhower had big things in mind for Bradley and during the early years of the war a good relationship was established between Eisenhower the coordinator, Bradley the thinking machine and Patton the fighter. The emergence of a trio like this in any army would have been remarkable even if it had come by the sheer exigencies of the war. It was extraordinary in that it was deliberately compounded bv General of the Army George Marshall and kept together through all the vicissitudes of the three generals' professional and personal relationships.

Bradley was, in war, the Quiet American. Tall and lanky, rie sported tinted tortoise-rimmed glasses UVK\ with a thoughtful mem, he could have passed for a professor easier than a commander of armies.

In sports, he excelled in running an'1 competitive endurance feats. He still is a champion skeet shooter, an excellent golfer and an ardent hunter and fisherman. The five-star general loves baseball and horse racing, doesn't smoke, drinks and swears only moderately. He is married to Kitty Buhler Bradley and makes his home in Beverly Hills, California.

War is the supreme test of man, in which he rises to heights

never approached in any other activity.

—Patton