You Can't Print That! The Truth behind the News, 1918-1928

You Can't Print That! The Truth behind the News, 1918-1928

You Can't Print That! The Truth behind the News, 1918-1928

You Can't Print That! The Truth behind the News, 1918-1928

Excerpt

The Rainbow Division. Wallowing in the mud of the Luneville training sector. Learning to hate like men, the night the enemy threw a shell into our line which made a dugout the tomb for twelve. Raids and little encounters to take the godawful fear out of our bellies.

Standing up before a moving wall of flame and hot iron and blinding gas and whirling infernos of the sand of Champagne. The first two lines given up to the enemy. The artillery smashing hell out of them, foe and comrade alike, there in the first two lines, where irresistibly wave after wave, five inhuman times, the ugly gray surf had broken, subsided, and left only blood and broken bodies on the dazzling chalk of Champagne.

St. Mihiel!

Days of anxious preparations, days of building up courage, all numbed in one universal roar of barrage fire. Finally the zero silence. Finally release of all emotions. Finally the command, let's go, come on you, and over the top comes the unleashed bound of ten thousand men, and--nothing! Nothing. No enemy. No sound.

Victory!

And then the Argonne.

And now, marching back to the trenches again.

Where were the old men of the Rainbow, eager youths of six months ago? Scattered. In hospital. Dead. Over all the fields of France, from down there near the neutral border, to up . . .

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