#ii

The Japanese fought to win - it was a savage, brutal, inhumane, exhausting and dirty business. Our commanders knew that if we were to win and survive, we must be trained realistically for it whether we liked it or not. In the post-war years, the U.S. Marine Corps came in for a great deal of undeserved criticism in my opinion, from well-meaning persons who did not comprehend the magnitude of stress and horror that combat can be. The technology that developed the rifle barrel, the machine gun and high explosive shells has turned war into prolonged, subhuman slaughter. Men must be trained realistically if they are to survive it without breaking, mentally and physically. ↗

— Eugene B. Sledge

#military #okinawa #peleliu #war #wwii

The only bone in my body he ever loved was his. ↗

— Vicki Pettersson

#kat-craig #paul-riiggio #love

I'm not talking about YOUR book now, but look at how many books have already been written about the Holocaust. What's the point? People haven't changed... Maybe they need a newer, bigger Holocaust. ↗

— Art Spiegelman

#holocaust #jews #ww-ii #art

As the Nobel laureate Elie Wiesel warned years ago, to forget a holocaust is to kill twice. ↗

— Iris Chang

#nanking #world-war-ii #change

And Meredith and Bonnie, who's going to bend some spoons for us next. I'm going to throw you down a rope… that is, unless Bonnie can levitate you out. ↗

— L.J. Smith

#elena #estefan #matt #romance #vampire

Why do we choose sadness over happiness, when we are hurting? answer is simple, because every other emotion just feels wrong, depending upon how well you can lie to yourself and convince yourself to feel happy again. But if you want to heal your wounds, Let sadness take its course. It helps you recognize your faults and make peace with your inner self, let it take its time and when the time is right you shall feel happy again, most importantly in control and satisfied. ↗

— Sneha Agarwal

#hurting #inner-peace

After the Second World War, San Francisco was the main point of re-entry for sailors returning from the Pacific. Out at sea, many of these sailors had picked up amatory habits that were frowned upon back on dry land. So these sailors stayed in San Francisco . . . ↗

— Jeffrey Eugenides

#san-francisco #united-states-navy #world-war-ii #world-war-ii

Writers of fiction embellish reality almost without knowing it. ↗

— Aljean Harmetz

#lies #lying #writers #writing #world-war-ii

ALL HE COULD SEE, IN EVERY DIRECTION, WAS WATER. It was June 23, 1943. Somewhere on the endless expanse of the Pacific Ocean, Army Air Forces bombardier and Olympic runner Louie Zamperini lay across a small raft, drifting westward. Slumped alongside him was a sergeant, one of his plane’s gunners. On a separate raft, tethered to the first, lay another crewman, a gash zigzagging across his forehead. Their bodies, burned by the sun and stained yellow from the raft dye, had winnowed down to skeletons. Sharks glided in lazy loops around them, dragging their backs along the rafts, waiting. ↗

— Laura Hillenbrand

#world-war-ii

The line between him and the enemy had simultaneously blurred and solidified. Somehow, while perhaps it shouldn't have, this thought provided a strange sense of peace. ↗

— Kristina McMorris

#peace #philosophy #war #wisdom #world-war-ii