Time: Tue May 27 12:57:26 1997
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Date: Tue, 27 May 1997 12:57:03 -0700
To: Primenet Abuse Response Team <abuse@primenet.com>, <kelseyn@primenet.com>,
Nathan Raciborski <nathan@primenet.com>
From: Paul Andrew Mitchell [address in tool bar]
Subject: SLS: "We Took That Mountain," Memorial Day, 1997
Dear Primenet,
FYI: I wrote this in honor of my father's
experience on Iwo Jima, on his birthday,
in 1945. It is a true story. I still cannot
even READ it without weeping. We lost over
6,000 men in that one assault. Every one
of those men deserves our honor, and respect.
Evidently, the American press do not want to
hear these stories any more. They must be
drinking yellow paint.
Go figure!
/s/ Paul Mitchell
http://www.supremelaw.com
p.s. I will delete the "offended" press
contacts when I get to them. I have
more important things to do at the moment,
however. John E. Trumane is a pen name
(John, Everyman a True Man).
>[This text is formatted in Courier 11, non-proportional spacing.]
>
>
> "We Took That Mountain"
>
> by
>
> John E. Trumane
>
>
> I often wonder what it was like. You have trained hard at
>Parris Island, slogged through mud on your belly, 50 calibers
>whizzing two feet overhead. Some guys just lost it, went crazy,
>sent home. I often wonder.
> What would be going through your mind as you see Mt.
>Surabachi approaching in the smokey distance, a narrow slit on
>the horizon framed by your helmet and the lip of the landing
>craft.
> Your eyes turn left, just as a shell takes a direct hit on
>the next craft over, bodies and body parts go flying in every
>which direction. You close your eyes and ask yourself: they
>were no different from us.
> The Navy behind you is pouring in 12-inch guns at a
>ferocious pace; they scream through the air near the speed of
>sound, and echo back delayed destruction. You trust those
>gunners; their aim is awesome, always near the mark.
> The waves are changing shape, the water is getting shallow.
>More fifty calibers are whizzing by, this time getting closer.
>Some ping off the craft, a metal wash tub with twin diesels.
> You reach the crest of a wave, and then surf into hell, as
>the ramp falls and it's the moment of truth.
> You don't have time to ask, what am I doing here, because
>you are running for dear life. You recognize the sound of your
>captain yelling, hit the sand and crawl in, men. Dig in beyond
>the water line.
> The Japs are ferocious too. This is their last air base
>before the mainland. Two runways, actually. One at each end.
>These fascists will stop at nothing to defend their Emperor.
> We huddle in our makeshift sand castles, trying to keep our
>powder dry. My job: get the machine gun close in, take out all
>buildings, and secure the first runway.
> We sit while the Navy pours it on, big guns now, every 5
>seconds. The roar is deafening. Men are dying, screaming,
>bleeding. What am I doing here?
> The captain over there loses it, goes crazy. A GI yanks him
>in
>
>
========================================================================
Paul Andrew, Mitchell, B.A., M.S. : Counselor at Law, federal witness
email: [address in tool bar] : Eudora Pro 3.0.1 on Intel 586 CPU
web site: http://www.supremelaw.com : library & law school registration
ship to: c/o 2509 N. Campbell, #1776 : this is free speech, at its best
Tucson, Arizona state : state zone, not the federal zone
Postal Zone 85719/tdc : USPS delays first class w/o this
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