Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 24, 2025
"Say, what sort of a crazy gyp are you to want to talk things over while we got this scrap on?" bellowed the helmeted man in the shot torn cabin of the amphibian. "That's our boat you're standin' on, and we need it in our business, see? Give you three minutes to clear out, for I'm comin' aboard. Get that, Kamarad?"
One who spoke English said in a quavering voice: "Gott in Himmel, Kamarad, how could one endure? These things are not human. They are not fair." That "fair" thing made a hit with me after going against tear gas and hearing about liquid fire and such things. The great number of the prisoners we took at High Wood were very scared looking at first and very surly.
Another clubs a recalcitrant foeman over the head with a knobkerry, and having thus reduced him to a more amenable frame of mind, hoists him over the parapet and drags him after his "kamarad." Other parties are told off to deal with the dug-outs.
"I have to, Tommy. You see, I'm all alone, mostly," Roscoe added as he fumbled in the dead officer's clothing. "There are no surgeons or nurses in reach. I don't have stretcher-bearers following me around and it isn't often that even a Hun will surrender, fair and square, to one man. I've seen too much of this 'kamarad' business. I can't afford to take chances, Tommy.
"Lenore, because there's hate does not prove there's nothing left.... Listen. The last fight I had was with a boy. I didn't know it when we met. I was rushing, head down, bayonet low. I saw only his body, his blade that clashed with mine. To me his weapon felt like a toy in the hands of a child. I swept it aside and lunged. He screamed 'Kamarad! before the blade reached him. Too late!
Off on the left, there was a flurry of small-arms fire, ending in yells of "Hey, Joe! Hey, Joe!" the World War IV version of "Kamarad"! His company was a non-T/O outfit; he came directly under Division command and didn't have to bother reporting to any regimental or brigade commanders.
"A feller told me," said Fuselli to Bill Grey, "that he'd talked to a girl like that who'd been to Turkey an' Egypt I bet that girl's seen some life." The woman jumped to her feet suddenly screaming with rage. The man with the red hair moved away sheepishly. Then he lifted his large dirty hands in the air. "Kamarad," he said. Nobody laughed.
Their one ambition in life appears to be to put as large a space as possible between themselves and their late comrades-in-arms, and, if possible, overtake their captors. Some of them find time to grin, and wave their hands to us. One addresses the scandalised M'Slattery as "Kamarad!" "No more dis war for me!" cries another, with unfeigned satisfaction. After this our progress is more rapid.
And then the Graybacks swarmed up out of shelters and dug-outs, literally in hundreds, and held up their hands, whining "Mercy, kamarad." We took prisoners by platoons. Blofeld grabbed me and turned over a gang of thirty to me. We searched them rapidly, cut their suspenders and belts, and I started to the rear with them. They seemed glad to go. So was I.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking