The Sangro River November 1943: A mule train carrying ammunition passes a bogged down Sherman tank en route in the forward positions in the Sangro area.

As our jeep bounced over mountain trails, cratered, blown and generally savaged by the demolition experts of First Paratroop Division, we encountered what for me was a new and singularly ugly aspect of war… refugees making their painful way southward. Not before or since have I seen human beings who seemed so pitiable.

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