But first, I want to say that this endeavor to bring Appalachian creativity, talent, and history to the forefront would not be possible without all of you—contributors, submitters, subscribers, readers, perusers, accidental wanderers—walking this path with us. We have been delighted, or “tickled,” as my mamaw would have said, to stroll with you. And we are honored . . . Continue Reading
The attacks usually wouldn’t start until late, after midnight. There would be gunshots, the rhythmic thumping of mortar fire, and the whistling of heavy artillery. Either our base was under attack, or the air strip or some groups of men were getting fired upon. The sounds went on and on. Sometimes we saw red flares shoot up—a red alert—meaning the enemy had infiltrated our perimeter. Somewhere, close by, enemy soldiers were coming. The shelling . . . Continue Reading