soldiers

"He was notable throughout a brief, thwarted career for the charm of his manner and his chivalrous ideals in public life. A good literary critic, he printed a few graphic prose sketches and some graceful verse."

"I...was very different from the raw Irish lads who composed the greater part of the subalterns. One of them, of the name of George Eld Derby, a youth of about my own age, thus very gravely addressed the mess one evening after dinner: "By Jasus, gentlemen, I am conscious you must have the meanest opinion of my courage. Here have I been no less than six weeks with the regiment, and the divil of a duel have I fought yet. Now, Captain Craigie, you are the senior Captain of the regiment, and if you plase I will begin with you first; so name your time and place." Now, very many of these subaltern officers were of the stamp of my friend Mr. Derby. So a man could not be too guarded in his conduct with such heroes."

"It is true that some physicians are vain, self-seeking, of the prima donna type, and there be others of the medieval category of die Heilärzte welche heilen nicht, Heilärtze welche krank Machen."

"The king of Spaine receives from this Estate [Milan] yearely eight hundred thousand duc∣kats of ordinarie, besides the free gifts and other extraordinarie matters: And to shew, that this king can tell how to draw as much as is possible from this Estate, or that his officers make it for him, the proverbe of Italie saith, That the officer of Sicile doth gnaw, He of Naples doth eate, but He of Milan doth devour."

"The Hippopotame, or horse of the river, is tawnie, hath little haire, and leapes to land to feed, and in the day time returnes to the water. The Afrikans make some of them tame, and they are exceeding swift, but they must not passe over deepe rivers, for they will presently dive. There doe also ingender in those rivers certaine water oxen, which live for some dayes upon the land. The aboundance of water, together with the heat, by reason of the neerenesse of the Sun, makes the countrie exceeding fertile, and to abound in plants, fruit, hearbes, and graine, and it would yeeld much more, if the industrie of the inhabitants did helpe nature."

"There are divers sorts of serpents and vipers, whereof some are five and twentie foot long and five broad, having the bellie very large, and the throat so wide, as they will devoure a stag, or any other beast of the like bignesse. They live as well upon the land as in the water. When they are full they sleepe willingly, and then the inhabitants kill them, and feed upon their flesh, which they hold to be better than that of any foule. Finally, there are vipers whose poison is so strong, as when they have bitten any one, he dies within five and twentie houres. There are also to be seene certaine beasts as big as a ram, having wings like a dragon, they have a taile, a long beake, and many rankes of teeth. they live of raw flesh, and have but two legs: their skinne is red mixt with greene and blew."

"In the province of Bamba, there is a mountaine, where they find many mynes of silver, and other mettalls. They have also in this countrie many Elephants, by reason of the many forests, and rivers. These Elephants are exceeding great, for that they grow unto the middest of their age, and they live commonly unto the age of one hundred and fiftie yeares. Those which we have seene in Portugall, and elswhere in Europe, were lesse, for that they were brought away too young. The greatnesse of these beasts may be conceived by their teeth, which have beene gathered up, whereof some have beene two hundred weight. In the language of Congo, the Elephants tooth is called Mene Manzao. The young Elephants are called Moana Manzo. Their eares are not lesse than the greatest Turkish targets; the greatest are six foot long, fanshioned like an egge, and they are narrow towards the shoulder. With the motion of their eares and tayle, they drive away flies, and they kill them when they rest upon them, drawing together their skin. The haire of their tayle is verie thicke, and like to little blacke shining reeds, and those of the younger are the fairest and strongest, and of greater price. Without doubt the Auncients did not know the nature of the Elephant, whenas they said they could not bend their hammes, and therefore they did leane against some tree to sleepe, and by this meanes were easie to be taken: for the Portugals and Flemings have seene the contrarie, for they get up into trees drawing up their haunches to gather leaves or boughes, or stoope easily downe when they drinke in any place where the water is low, the which they could not doe if they had no joynts."

"The Suevians are much given to incontinencie, and the women are as tractable as men can desire, and both the one and the other begin this lewd life soone, and leave it late: and therefore there is a common proverbe, That the countrie of Suaube alone is able to furnish all Germanie with strumpets, Franconia with rogues and beggers, [Bohemia] with heretickes, Bavaria with theeves, Westphalia with perjurers and false witnesses, and the Marquisat of the Rhin with gluttons."

"[The inhabitants of Congo] steale willingly from strangers, but they use no theft among themselves. The women are all given to make love, especially with strangers, not caring for their reputations, so as they may satisfie their lustfull desires."

"In the province of Pemba, in which the towne of Congo stands, the inhabitants cut the branches of certaine trees called Ogegues, and make hedges, alleys, and arbours, to keepe them from the Sunne. They carrie Tamarinde in their mouthes, to prevent thirst. The houses of the inhabitants of Congo, are low, and verie narrow; not for want of materialls (as we have shewed discoursing of their quarries of stone and marble, besides the which, there is store of lyme and tymber) but by reason of the little industrie of the inha∣bitants, who know not how to build, nor have any carpenters, nor masons, for the erecting of houses. They of Congo use cockles instead of gold and coyne, and make their traffique therewith."

"[The Corsicanes] are so full of revenge, as the Italians have a common proverbe which saith, That they must never trust a Corsicane, neither alive nor dead, for that as soone as any one is slaine, presently all his kinsmen meet to kill him, if it be possible, that slew him: and notwithstanding that they make some accord, yet there is no great trust in it, for that he may be surprised when he dreames least of it; so as the best course is to looke well to himselfe, and not to make any strict league of amitie with reconciled enemies."

"In the time of Kaykozrrao, there were in Persia two famous Philosophers, the one called Horez, the other Lokmon: of this last there are some workers found among the Persians, which shew that he was of a great spirit: among others they haue a booke of comparisons and examples very like to those of Aesope; there is also great likelyhood that they spake of him, whenas reporting his life they say that being a great Philosopher, he had beene a slave, very faithfull, and gratious, and that he dyed condemned: one thing makes it doubtfull, for that they assure he was a Jew. They have a proverbe among them, which saith, It is not needfull to teach Lokmon, to shew the deepe knowledge of this man."

"The same province breeds another beast called Zebre by the inhabitants, the which is like unto a mule, but it ingenders. Finally, the disposition of the haire is very strange; for from the ridge of the backe to the bellie, there are lines or strikes of three colours, white, blacke, and yellow, all being ordered by a just proportion, and every strike being of the breadth of three fingers. These beasts multiplie greatly, for that they have young every yeare. They are wild, and exceeding swift; so as the Portugals among their proverbs, have that of the swiftnesse of the Zebre. This beast being made tame, might serve for a horse in the war, bearing and drawing men and burdens, to the end we may see how God hath provided for things necessarie. But for that this countrie wants horses, and the inhabitants have not the art to make the Zabre tame, nor know how to use oxen, notwithstanding they have many in these countries: the men do the office of beasts; for being set at the corners of streets or highwaies, they carrie litters or chaires: so as they that are to make a journey speedily, change the men often that carrie them, and by this meanes they soone dispatch the way they are to go."

"They do also find other beasts, whereof some are as big as an oxe, others are lesse, which they call Empalanges: then they have wild bugles or oxen, woolves which smell very farre off, and which doe exceedingly love a certaine oyle which they draw out of palme trees. Moreover, they have foxes, stags, goats, conies, and hares, in great aboundance, for that they pursue them not to death when they hunt, as they doe in Europe. They have great numbers of Civit Cats, the which they take and make tame, to the end they may get the good scent which comes from this beast, the which is wonderfull pleasing unto them."

"The inhabitants of Paros were sometimes accused of disloyaltie, and to be no men of their words, because Miltiades, Generall of the Athenians armie, having subdued them, and they, having faithfully promised to be their subjects, they observed not their promise; and therefore it was said as in a common proverbe: To doe as they of Paros did; which was: to falsifie their faith."

"I interviewed Erich Priebke. For me, he was always a human being, not a monster. And I still think he was created as the “Monster of the Ardeatine” and a “victim of a justice system driven by hatred”, as I have written many times. I also think that the scene of the crowd kicking his coffin – any coffin – is disgusting. I wanted to highlight the process of media transformation of a person into a monster, beyond his responsibilities. I mean that he was never seen as a defendant, but immediately as a monster. It was a caricature of him. That said, I have always believed that the Fosse Ardeatine massacre was a crime committed by both sides. Before the reprisal, there had been a terrorist act by the gappisti, ordered by the Italian Communist Party, which wanted to incite the Romans to rise up."

"You could say he's my friend. [...] I consider him a German citizen, a Catholic Christian, a loyal soldier. [...] And then he's the only person over 70 behind bars who is innocent. It's scandalous, scandalous how Priebke has been treated. That's the scandal in Italy, not the dignified way in which refugees are being taken in at Lampedusa. Shame on you."

"And if Priebke had refused to obey Kappler, he would have been a hero. But he was not Salvo D'Acquisto, he was not a hero. He was a man with the intellectual and moral depth of a servant dressed in a soldier's uniform. And I would really like to see who, among those journalists, opinion makers and television presenters who today act so tough and “beautiful souls”, would have dared in 1944 to resist an order that came directly from Adolf Hitler."

"I look at the prison where he is locked up awaiting a new trial [...]. One cannot help but admire the dignity with which he accepts, more than half a century after the crime of which he is accused, the entire solemn ritual of justice. [...] It was war. And war has nothing moral about it. Why hate? [...] Drop your sticks. And respect the wounded wolves of the world."

"National Socialism has disappeared and today it would have no chance of returning. There were no gas chambers in the concentration camps (...) only huge kitchens. Already during the war, the Allies began to fabricate false evidence of Nazi crimes. Even today, if we take the thousand richest and most powerful people in the world, we find that a significant proportion of them are Jews. The first laws, defined as Hitler's racial laws, did not restrict the rights of Jews any more than those of blacks in various US states. The British and French did not behave very differently towards their subjects in their colonies. Hitler encouraged them in every way to leave Germany."

"In the War of the Revolution when it was thought the cause was lost men became inspired at the very mention of the name of George Washington. In 1812 when we succeeded once more against the mother country men were looking for a hero, and there rose before them that rugged, grim, independent old hero, Andrew Jackson. In the last and greatest of all wars an independent and tender-hearted man was raised up by providence to guide the helm of state through that great crisis, and men confidingly placed the destinies of this great land in the hands of Abraham Lincoln. In the annals of our country we find no man whose training had been so peaceful, whose heart was so gentle, whose nature was so tender, and yet who was called upon to marshal the hosts of the masses of the people during four years of remorseless and bloody and unrelenting fratricidal war."

"Let England know our willingness, For that our work is good; We hope to plant a nation Where none before hath stood."

"Among the most decorated American soldiers of World War I- in all, he would receive six medals for bravery, each conferred by a different Allied nation- Barkley was also a talented storyteller. In 1930, with the help of a friend who served as an unacknowledged collaborator, and with the assistance of several professional wordsmiths at a New York publishing house, he recounted his wartime adventures, which reached their climax in the action for which he received the Congressional Medal of Honor, in a vivid memoir titled No Hard Feelings! (here reprinted as Scarlet Fields). With its matter-of-fact, even self-deprecating description of heroics no less impressive than those of Alvin York, the legendary Tennesseean later played on screen by Gary Cooper, or Charles Whittlesey, the leader of the famed Lost Battalion, Barkley's book should have been a hit. However, reviews of No Hard Feelings! were small in number and mixed in their appraisal, not because Barkley's memoir was poorly written or insincere, but because its vision of war experience perhaps reached the public too late, at the tail end of a wave of books such as Erich Maria Remarque's All Quiet on the Western Front (1928), Ernest Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms (1929), and Robert Graves' Good-Bye to All That (1929), that for a time set the tone for literature about the Great War."

"Unlike the authors of these now-familiar narratives, Barkley sometimes relished combat, and he made no apology for having dispatched scores of enemy soldiers. in short, his perspective did not line up with accepted wisdom (at least among artists and intellectuals) about how the soldiers of the Great War were supposed to remember their experience. Like Germany's Ernst Jünger, whose controversial memoir Storm of Steel (1921) shares many similarities with No Hard Feelings!, Barkley was something of a war lover- or, as the dust jacket for the first edition of his memoir put it, one of those "warriors... who fight and like it." Other literary commentators on the Great War- like Richard Aldington, Siegfried Sassoon, William March, and Thomas Boyd- emphasized the powerlessness of soldiers on the modern battlefield, as poison gas, high explosives, and machine guns reduced battle to a senseless lottery. In contrast, while acknowledging lost comrades, Barkley celebrated toughness and aggression. And based on his own experience, he remained convinced that individual effort had made a difference even in this most industrialized and seemingly impersonal of conflicts. His chronicle of battlefield endurance and will come as something of a surprise to readers today- a precursor to Audie Murphy's To Hell and Back (1949), set during a war that if we are to believe the canonical literature offered only impersonal carnage."

"A tall officer mounted a little platform that had been set up to our front. I'd never seen him before, but I knew him at once. It was "Black Jack"- General Pershing. I heard him say something about decorating as brave soldiers as the world has ever known- but that was all I could get. It wasn't that I couldn't hear. I had a ringside seat as far as hearing was concerned. But I couldn't get used to standing up there with a bunch of generals and colonels, while three divisions stood at attention behind me. I hoped they'd make it snappy."

"At last General Pershing finished his speech and climbed down from his platform. He came straight toward Lieutenant Hays. I kept my eyes glued to the front, but I knew what he was doing. He stopped before the lieutenant, plopped his heels, and did something with his hands. I heard him speak to the lieutenant. Then he was standing in front of me. He saluted, and I almost snapped my right arm off in answering. But I did it automatically. My head had about quit functioning. The general stepped up close to me, did something with the front of my blouse- and a pin went straight through the blouse into the flesh on my chest! He shook hands with me and congratulated me, and said something about a "fellow Missourian." Then he knocked his heels together, gave a low, snappy salute, sidestepped to the right, and began decorating the next fellow."

"Pfc. Barkley, who was stationed in an observation post half a kilometer from the German line, on his own initiative repaired a captured enemy machine gun and mounted it in a disabled French tank near his post. Shortly afterward, when the enemy launched a counterattack against our forces, Pfc. Barkley got into the tank, waited under the hostile barrage until the enemy line was abreast of him and then opened fire, completely breaking up the counterattack and killing and wounding a large number of the enemy. Five minutes later an enemy 77-millimeter gun opened fire on the tank point-blank. One shell struck the drive wheel of the tank, but this soldier nevertheless remained in the tank and after the barrage ceased broke up a second enemy counterattack, thereby enabling our forces to gain and hold Hill 25."

"Everybody around me was going crazy about the war. I was under age- eighteen- but with as bad a case of war fever as the next fellow. Worse, probably. Because when America went into the war I'd made up my mind that for once I was going to do the same thing everybody else was doing."

"On the afternoon of October 7, 1918, while serving as a reconnaissance observer far ahead of American lines near Cunel, France, Private John Lewis Barkley climbed into an abandoned French tank and single-handedly held off a German force of perhaps several hundred men as it advanced toward positions held by the American Third Division. Because the tank's crew had removed the vehicle's cannon, Barkley armed himself with a captured German light machine gun, which he pointed through a dangerously wide aperture in the turret. Deafened by the sound of his weapon, which he fired until the gun became super-heated, and surrounded by ricocheting bullets, some of which landed inside the tank, Barkley probably killed more than a hundred enemy soldiers and completely disrupted the Germans' advance. Even an enemy 77mm cannon, which targeted the tank from ust a few hundred yards away, could not drive Private Barkley from his personal fortress. He held off one wave of attackers, then another. Finally, after enemy bullets and stick grenades stopped striking the tank and a detachment of American troops appeared on the scene, he slipped away to rejoin his unit. He told no one what he had done."

"General Sladen told me then that I could stand at ease, and I was altogether more comfortable physically than I'd been before. But I was still upset in my mind. I kept thinking how awful it would be if there'd been some mistake, and they'd picked out the wrong fellow to decorate. I still didn't know what it was General Pershing had pinned on me, so as soon as I dared I squinted alng my nose. I couldn't see anything but a little blue ribbon with white stars. I knew that the medal beneath it was the Congressional Medal of Honor. There'd been two of those in our family before. The first one had been given to a major-general who was related to my mother's family."

"Early in April we drew extra equipment. At one o'clock the next morning we were waked up and ordered to pack. Then we stood around until nine when we were marched up the gangplanks, and they didn't let us up from below decks until two in the afternoon. It was a good thing for the Kaiser he couldn't hear what we had to say about him by that time. When at last we got up on deck the shoreline was just a low cloud on the horizon. It was lucky for us that we didn't know how many of that company would never see America again. As for me I wasn't very much bothered by what was ahead of me. I was only nineteen and I'd never really been away from home before. I couldn't think about anything but the distance was getting greater every minute between me and the people in Missouri."

"I didn't like those intervals between fighting. They gave me too much time to think. And my thoughts were getting pretty black."

"When the decorating part of the ceremony was over they marched us around and placed us on the reviewing line behind General Pershing. That review was the grandest sight I've ever seen. The First Division went by with its scarlet "One." The Second with its Indian Head. Jesse had been given the D.S.C. and was somewhere in the reviewing line, and i wondered what he thought of that head. Last came our own Third Division, with its blue and white bars. Infantry, line after line, poured past us, machine-guns, engineer and special troops- clicking like a machine. Caterpillar tractors kicking up the dirt. Seventy-fives traveling in a cloud of dust. I looked at General Pershing. It seemed to me he was growing taller and straighter all the time. He'd rare up on his shoes, as he watched, then come down on his heels again. He was a soldier from the ground up! And I didn't blame him for being proud of our outfits that day. When I looked back at the lines of men, marching and marching past us, at the flags and the artillery and the horses, I felt cold chills running over me. I felt stirred up and warlike inside. I was almost sorry the war was over."

"Sometime in May we began to have a feeling that our days of preparation were nearly over. We'd find officers standing around talking to each other in low voices, or looking at maps and papers. There was a feeling of strain in the air. And one day the orders came through. We were to be loaded at once onto trucks and sent back to our companies. It broke me up to say good-by to Jeanne. She was a good kid. And knowing her had meant a lot to me. She didn't make it any easier. She cried and clung to me. I couldn't do a thing to comfort her. She'd said good-by to five French boys, and they'd all been killed. "All!" she kept saying. "All gone!" I did the best I could. I kissed her; I tried to make her understand that I was promising to come back as soon as the war was over. She lifted her head from my shoulder when I said that, and looked back at me. The tears were still running down her cheeks. "Non... non... non! They nevair come back!" she cried. Then she was gone. I never saw her again."

"However, several American soldiers witnessed the exploit; one of them even counted (or at least estimated) the number of empty machine-gun cartridges piled up inside the tank- more than 4,000 expended rounds! Weeks later, as Barkley's unit settled into occupation duty in Germany, General John J. Pershing personally awarded the private the Medal of Honor. When summoned before the supreme commander of the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF), Barkley, a notorious troublemaker, was certain that he was about to be court-martialed and sent to Leavenworth. He had, after all, mastered the art of smuggling liquor into camp, going AWOL, illictly romancing mademoiselles as well as fräuleins, and engaging in just enough mischief to avoid being promoted to the rank of sergeant. No one was more surprised than this rowdy enlisted man from the Show-Me State when Pershing, a fellow Missourian, pinned the nation's highest medal for valor to his chest."

"That afternoon we took Le Charmel. There weren't many of us left."

"Ever since I'd learned to talk- or tried to learn- my stuttering had made a barrier between me and other people. It hit me harder, too, because that morning word had come that one of our neighbor boys had enlisted and I'd heard my father say he "guessed the Barkleys were petering out." From Revolutionary days on, whenever America got into trouble there'd always been a Barkley in on the fight."

"I don't think they have much in common, other than the medal. They're all from diverse backgrounds, and they had diverse services and jobs in the military. What they do have in common I would say is, they take charge in situations. They are people that felt something needed doing at a particular time and somebody had to do it. Words like bravery and courage are words that come after the fact; they're retroactive, retrospective type words. I think probably the biggest thing you find, particularly if you read the citations, is that there was a feeling that somebody had to do something."

"I make appearances, and I select what I do very carefully. I usually do active-duty situations, speaking at military reservations, posts or bases, and at high schools. I like to tell the schoolkids that the actions they take should be directed toward their benefit, meaning: Don't go out there and do something wrong. That's not to your benefit. Have goals, be disciplined, follow that discipline to that goal."

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Sp5c. Sasser distinguished himself while assigned to Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 3d Battalion. He was serving as a medical aidman with Company A, 3d Battalion, on a reconnaissance-in-force operation. His company was making an air assault when suddenly it was taken under heavy small-arms, recoilless-rifle, machine-gun, and rocket fire from well-fortified enemy positions on three sides of the landing zone. During the first few minutes, over 30 casualties were sustained. Without hesitation, Sp5c. Sasser ran across an open rice paddy through a hail of fire to assist the wounded. After helping one man to safety, he was painfully wounded in the left shoulder by fragments of an exploding rocket. Refusing medical attention, he ran through a barrage of rocket and automatic-weapons fire to aid casualties of the initial attack and, after giving them urgently needed treatment, continued to search for other wounded. Despite two additional wounds immobilizing his legs, he dragged himself through the mud toward another soldier 100 meters away. Although in agonizing pain and faint from loss of blood, Sp5c. Sasser reached the man, treated him, and proceeded on to encourage another group of soldiers to crawl 200 meters to relative safety. There he attended their wounds for five hours until they were evacuated. Sp5c. Sasser's extraordinary heroism is in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself, his unit, and the U.S. Army."

"Staff Sergeant Earl D. Plumlee distinguished himself by acts of gallantry above and beyond the call of duty on August 28th, 2013, while serving as a weapons sergeant, C Company, 4th Battalion, 1st Special Forces Group (Airborne) in support of Enduring Freedom. Sergeant Plumlee instantly responded to an enemy attack on Forward Operating Base Ghazni—Ghazni Province, Afghanistan —that began with an explosion that tore a 60-foot breach in the base’s perimeter wall. Ten insurgents wearing Afghan National Army uniforms and suicide vests poured through the breach. Sergeant Plumlee and five others mounted two vehicles and raced toward the explosion. When his vehicle was engaged by enemy fire, Sergeant Plumlee reacted instinctively, using his body to shield the driver prior to exiting the vehicle and engaging an enemy insurgent 15 meters to the vehicle’s right with his pistol. Without cover and in complete disregard for his own safety, he advanced on the enemy, engaging multiple insurgents with only his pistol. Upon reaching cover, he killed two insurgents —one with a grenade and the other by detonating the insurgent’s suicide vest using precision sniper fire. Again, disregarding his own safety, Sergeant Plumlee advanced alone against the enemy, engaging several insurgents at close range, including one whose suicide vest exploded a mere seven meters from his position. Under intense enemy fire, Sergeant Plumlee temporarily withdrew to cover, where he joined up with another soldier and, together, they mounted another counterattack. Under fierce enemy fire, Sergeant Plumlee again moved from cover and attacked the enemy forces, advancing within seven meters of a previously wounded insurgent who detonated his suicide vest, blowing Sergeant Plumlee back against a nearby wall. Sergeant Plumlee, ignoring his injuries, quickly regained his faculties and reengaged the enemy forces. Intense enemy fire once again forced the two soldiers to temporarily withdraw. Undeterred, Sergeant Plumlee joined a small group of American and Polish soldiers, who moved from cover to once again counterattack the infiltrators. As the force advanced, Sergeant Plumlee engaged an insurgent to his front left. He then swung around and engaged another insurgent who charged the group from the rear. The insurgent detonated his suicide vest, mortally wounding a U.S. soldier. Sergeant Plumlee, again, with complete disregard for his own safety, ran to the wounded soldier, carried him to safety, and rendered first aid. He then methodically cleared the area, remained in a security posture, and continued to scan for any remaining threats. Staff Sergeant Earl D. Plumlee’s extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty are in keeping with the finest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon himself, the Special Forces Regiment, and the United States Army."

"I think considerable progress has been made from the time of Mr. Truman's order to integrate the services in nineteen forty-seven. I think the color of your skin has very very little effect in the military today. The military usually lags behind society, but on this issue I think the military has transcended society. Now it's the best place to be, as evidenced by the number of black guys who rank in the upper echelons. Not only Colin Powell, who was head of the Joint Chiefs, but also J. Paul Reason, who is commander in chief of the Atlantic Fleet."

"When I think about the attack, I always go back to that moment when we got organized and decided to engage the enemy as one. The way we assembled into a synched stack and moved aggressively, right into the chaos. To be with those guys, at that time, on that day, is probably the proudest moment of my career. It's the epitome of soldierly virtue on the battlefield."

"In individual terms, I found being a guerrilla behind enemy lines considerably better than being a platoon leader in Merrill’s Marauders ... where I was told to lead my men straight into dug-in machine guns. Your only hope was that one or two men would still be on their feet when they got close enough to the pillbox to throw a grenade. In such circumstances, an infantry platoon leader could do almost nothing to influence the situation. His brains and skill were essentially irrelevant. The only thing that counted was his luck."

"A guerrilla leader, on the other hand, could match his wits against the enemy’s. If he was careful about gathering intelligence, perceptive in analyzing it, and knowledgeable about the tactics and strategy of guerrilla operations, he could do a great deal of damage to the enemy and at the same time minimize the risk to his own men."

"A guerrilla leader can be successful only in very special circumstances. For us, the circumstances had not been perfect, but they had certainly been good. First and foremost is terrain. Guerrillas need cover to operate effectively—mountains, forest, or jungle. ... On mountain and jungle trails, guerrillas on foot are as mobile as a motorized enemy. It was the terrain that made it possible for us to find safety in constant movement, rarely spending two nights in the same place."

"When it was observed that men were dying, Japanese non-commissioned officers entered the compound and ordered the Americans to drag out the bodies and bury them. We were told to put the delirious ones into a thatched shed a few hundred feet away. When this had been done the grave digging began. We thought we had seen every atrocity the Japs could offer, but we were wrong. The shallow trenches had been completed. The dead were being rolled into them. Just then an American soldier and two Filipinos were carried out of the compound. They had been delirious. Now they were in a coma. A Jap noncom stopped the bearers and tipped the unconscious men into the trench. The Japs then ordered the burial detail to fill it up. The Filipinos lay lifelessly in the hole. As the earth began falling about the American, he revived and tried to climb out. His fingers gripped the edge of the grave. He hoisted himself to a standing position. Two Jap guards placed bayonets at the throat of a Filipino on the burial detail. They gave him an order. When he hesitated they pressed the bayonet points hard against his neck. The Filipino raised a stricken face to the sky. Then he brought his shovel down upon the head of his American comrade, who fell backward to the bottom of the grave. The burial detail filled it up."

"We ran down the middle of the bridge, shouting as we went. I didn’t stop because I knew that if I kept moving they couldn’t hit me. My men were in squad column and not one of them was hit. We took cover in some bomb craters. Then we just sat and waited for others to come. That’s the way it was."

"Reluctantly, I sent for my platoon and gave the unwelcome order ... to carry the heavy weapons and equipment by hand. It would make the long trek through the wet and the dark even more arduous, but machine guns and mortars were vital and my platoon would be of no use in the attack without them. ... We hoisted the weapons and ammunition to our shoulders. Holding fast to the man ahead, we slowly, painfully made our way to where the rest of the company had assembled. ... Down the narrow trail of a road between towering trees ... we moved. The night seemed to get even blacker ... and the rain came in great wind-driven sheets. ... It was not easy to hold onto the belt of the man in front while slipping and slithering forward and under the weight of a machine gun tripod or a mortar tube. ... The only light to pierce the blackness came from artillery. ... After the sudden, brilliant burst of light, it was hard to adjust your vision again to the darkness. ... Far on the horizon [came] answering reports from the enemy’s big guns. ... The road was full of holes, and the holes were full of water and rocks, and it was almost impossible to keep your feet at times. ... For hours we fought for breath and struggled to maintain the exhausting pace. The knowledge that at the end of the march we faced the ticklish problem of relief in the face of the enemy, then attack, dragged at our feet at first; but as time passed we welcomed even this prospect as a way to end this nightmare walkathon. Suddenly the line halted. ... One man turned his head toward us. "This is as far as we go tonight. Pull off the road and get some sleep. Pass the word along.""

"Les anglais s’amusent tristement selon l’usage de leur pays."