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416 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 2, 2018
In the midst of this action, a Chinese attacker, armed with a Thompson submachine gun, moved in close and squeezed a burst into Yancey’s face. One of the bullets entered Yancey’s cheek just below his eye and angled down through his sinus cavities, coming to rest in the back of his neck, near the base of his skull. Luckily, it had missed his spine, but along the way the projectile had fractured his cheekbone, jarred loose numerous teeth, and dislocated his jaw. Worst of all, the bullet pried Yancey’s right eye from the socket. The ball, dangling by a cord of nerves and fibers, rested high on his cheekbone. Yet, somehow, Yancey was still functioning. He picked himself up from the snow and, with his good eye, spied his assailant reloading his Thompson. Reflexively, Yancey snatched his .45 pistol from its holster…and fired two rounds into the enemy soldier’s abdomen, killing him. Then Yancey, horrified but not knowing what else to do, cradled his eyeball and gently mashed it back into its ragged hole.
MacArthur played down Truman’s concerns. His own intelligence indicated that the Chinese wouldn’t dare enter the conflict – and if they did, he was sure his forces would destroy them. He did not think much of Mao’s troops. [He believed] they were nothing more than a band of serfs – subsisting on rice ball and yams, relying on little burp guns and fizzly explosives that usually failed to detonate, an army held together with hemp string and bamboo.