Battle Cry
Leon Uris
Language: English
Pages: 694
ISBN: 006075186X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Battle Cry is the riveting Marine epic by the bestselling author of such classics as Trinity and Exodus.
Originally published in 1953, Leon Uris's Battle Cry is the raw and exciting story of men at war from a legendary American author.
This is the story of enlisted men – Marines – at the beginning of World War II. They are a rough–and–ready tangle of guys from America's cities and farms and reservations. Led by a tough veteran sergeant, these soldiers band together to emerge as part of one of the most elite fighting forces in the world. With staggering realism and detail, we follow them into intense battles – Guadalcanal and Tarawa – and through exceptional moments of camaraderie and bravery. Battle Cry does not extol the glories of war, but proves itself to be one of the greatest war stories of all time.
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“Nothing in this ruddy town, chappies,” the cabbie answered. “Shay, you seen Burnside?” “The Marine sergeant with the fancy ribbon about his shoulder and the girl, just left the reception?” “Did he look like a billygoat?” “Wot?” “Did he…where you take him?” “Really, lads. I wouldn’t butt in.” “What I tell you, L.Q. He’ll go like our old pal Andy.” “Speak up, man. This is a dire emergency.” “Well, if you insist. They went over the city line. Only pub and hotel about.” “Be off to the city.
Japs might pull a retreat to Bairiki. Besides, we’ll need every piece of artillery we can get into operation.” “I hope opposition on Bairiki is light. Whose outfit is Lincoln White?” “Huxley’s…Sam Huxley’s.” “Oh, the hiking fool.” “Right. Contact Lincoln Red. Move to Green Beach at once. Get Huxley and tell him to clean out Bairiki and stop any further retreat. As soon as he clears the island have all remaining artillery move in and set up to blast. Don, this is it…the blue chips are down.
Meal of Jap meat tonight!” “Show your faces, you yellow-bellied bastards!” “Hey, maggot bait!” “Have a drink, Jap.” A coconut was hurled into the brush, followed by a barrage of them. “Take a shot, Tojo.” A Marine stuck his head from behind a rock. A shot whistled by. “Hey Tojo, three for a quarter.” Huxley watched anxiously as the barrage of words was hurled out. Then, it became very silent. Only the drifting smoke of a cigarette could be seen. A wind rippled through the camp. For ten.
L.Q. moaned. “I’ve had to take a piss for an hour, but I’ll be damned if I can get up enough guts to get out of the sack.” “Will you shut your mouth? You’ll have me thinking about it now.” “How do you like that Whitlock? He gave me the detail again; emptying piss buckets. Third time.” Jones scratched. “I think they got all the crabs, but one. The bastard is driving me crazy.” Silence. “Danny,” Ski said. “Yeah.” “Know something?” “What?” “I’m sure lucky I got lashed up with you and L.Q.”.
Number them from one to seven. Low numbers are in. Numbers one and two will leave this Saturday.” I dropped the folded papers into my canteen cup and shook it up. I didn’t like it—someone was going to be left out. They tensely reached in and sat almost afraid to unroll their slips. Lighttower’s face lit up. “I’m going back to the reservation,” he sighed. “Number one,” L.Q. said. “Iowa, here I come,” announced Seabags. “I’m in,” Speedy Gray said. “Number eight.” Spanish Joe said and shrugged.