By Jack Belden
Nature of battlefield, chinese language battlefields, hsuchow, yellow river, British battlefields, siege of malta, conflict of the Mareth line, American battlefields, touchdown at sicily
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Additional info for Still Time to Die
Behind them Japanese cannon spewed up shells on the land and Japanese tanks ploughed up the fields and the people fled. And the peasants, moving north and south with their chickens, pigs and children, could look at the May grain ripening in the fields and they could know that in a month, in two months, they would be dead-starved; for their food, their only money, lay ripening in the May sun with no one to gather it in at harvest time. They could know this and flee, for though they were afraid of starving, they were more afraid of what was behind them.
Tired, overworked bodies larded with the smell of stale amours, the sound of cotton blues swishing in the green muck of the community laundry pond, the dumpy, ugly, harassed forms that dashed in and out of their hives beneath a caterwauling of steam whistles, engine switchings and trucks rumbling back from the front. Around these board and mud shacks, the buzzing voices of the Japanese airships mounted, in unceasing fury, often from early in the morning till three in the afternoon, in their hateful roar of terror and death.
So quite understandably I think it is natural for me to want to publish a few battle experiences, no matter how crude the form of writing seems to me. Lastly, there is another reason for wishing to publish this material, and it is a more important reason with me than all the others. When I was in my twenties and going through my early years of war, I was satisfied to be ripped apart by one vivid, vital experience after another without bothering whether anything would remain after it was all over.
Still Time to Die by Jack Belden