Seiden never let up; in the middle of a firefight, he would turn to a comrade and ask, "Do I look fat?" Pumping out light-machine-gun rounds — with rocket-propelled grenades whizzing past — he would pause to ask, "Do you think my butt's getting big?" At twenty-six, Seiden was older than most of his brothers-in-arms, and he thrived on the excitement and rigor of Army life.
Although, I must admit, my comrades and I spend a lot of time during our party cell meetings arguing over whether Lenin would prefer a Patek Philippe or a Cartier watch, items frequently found advertised in The Times.
"I had this thing planned about Gila monsters, but it's getting late, comrades, and I've had a lot to drink".
I see now more clearly than ever that my comrades and I were – to a greater or lesser extent depending on our jobs – hired muscle for great power.
But my comrades and I are living proof that such a colony can thrive and flourish.
Forget all the "Comrades, and I say to you" stuff.
My comrades and I were spared the fate of so many others by an incandescent event of history: the atom bomb.
"He wanted to hurt my comrades and I wouldn't let that happen," Jabs said.
My comrades and I try to dispose of the evidence, ripping up the lot and shoving them into ashtrays.
I've met him on a number of occasions as a comrade, so I know him, you know.
"I just did it to save a comrade I may not know, as he will do for someone else, or even for me".
