roars took the problem from their shoulders . . . tanks, those long-overdue tanks, growled up across the railroad tracks, into the plaza—and met the enemy fire head on. The tanks traded round for round with the heavily-armed, barricaded enemy— and chunks of armor and bits of barricade were blown high into the air. They were killing each other at point-blank range. Then thick smoke boiled up from this place too and the fight backed slowly along the street and away from the plaza in front of the station. For those Marines who occupied the station, and poked, always questioningly, through the wreckage and uncertainty of its ramps and surrounding yards the immediate battle for the city was finished—they had all the hours until nightfall to eat or sleep or do as they wished . . . until ordered in again to replace those Marines supporting the tanks, now far away—in the next block. Again, civilians appeared—civilians dragging other civilians tied hand and foot—followed by the children of either one or the other. Guards were posted over the bound men—as much to keep them alive, as to prevent their escape for it could only be assumed that they were considered traitors by the ones who had brought them in. More prisoners were brought in, but there was no question about them, for they were cropped of head, drab-uniformed soldiers . . . men of unknown thoughts who looked right into the eyes of their captors . . . men who still wore soft cloth caps with red stars on the peaks . . . the enemy. There was no uncertainty about what to do with them. Immediately searched for hidden weapons and papers that might be of value to headquarters, tagged as prisoners of war, they were placed under heavy guard while awaiting transfer to the rear. But for the Marines who now had nothing to do—but eat, or sleep, or simply do nothing—most of them did just that . . . they did nothing. Nothing but stand heavy-shouldered right where they were. Some may have been watching the captured enemy soldiers squatting on the ground nearby—or they really may not have seen them at all. They may have been feeling that it was time to lie down 이것이 전쟁이다! Ⅴ. The City l 131
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