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So while their colleagues fell into daydreams of imminent victory, the few remaining rational men of the Axis bureaucracy grew just as convinced that surrender to the Allies on any terms was tantamount to suicide. And so, as the final catastrophe approached, strategists in both Berlin and Tokyo could be heard solemnly discussing the immense weight of paper that documented the latest round of imaginary victories, the long-overrun positions that they still claimed to hold, and the Allied armies and fleets that had just been conclusively destroyed — even though the real-world Allied equivalents had crashed through the lines and were advancing toward the homeland. Officers in the field, unable to face or admit the imminence of defeat, routinely submitted false reports up the chain of command. But another, even stronger pressure worked against those who understood how hopeless the situation really was: they knew that defeat meant accountability. This was particularly true in Germany; the Japanese people never learned much about the appalling behavior of their armies. The administrators and guards were told to begin treating the surviving prisoners decently, in the strange hope that this might buy their silence; then they were told to speed up the exterminations to obliterate the evidence. In one sense, of course, the Axis never had any real hope of winning, because their whole strategy depended on a hopelessly idealized assessment of their chances. On the road to Namur I saw the body of a woman lying in the road with a bayonet wound through the heart. Tens of thousands of people were directly involved in the administration of the camp system; countless others knew or had guessed the truth. Feyness might also explain the deepest mystery of the war: why the surrender everybody expected never came. Everyone knew; they had learned the reflex of sudden terror, followed by infinite relief, triggered by the sight of small black forms moving quickly against a bright sky. When they got up to the wheatstack one of them, who looked like an officer, looked round them and bandaged up the leg of one of the wounded men. In the later years of World War II the bureaucracies of the Axis — partially in Germany, almost wholly in Japan — gave up any pretense of realism about their situation. Not until the last days of the war did either government even begin to consider the possibility of a negotiated settlement — not until they had absolutely nothing left to negotiate with. They still had the economic and military strength to sustain their armies in the field indefinitely, no matter how grim the strategic situation became, but by any rational calculation of the odds, they should have begun hinting through backwater diplomatic channels that they were willing to negotiate a cease-fire. He did not see it because he was too badly wounded to move to look out of the pit, I do not know his name, he was a short fellow, and I know he went into the hospital in a village quite close. Behind the song was one of the last illusions of peace still left in the war: that it would be over and everything would go back to the way it was before. From the amount of blood on ground I consider it impossible that the wounded man could have got to the stack by himself. I heard the doctor say that the bullet wound in the leg would of itself have prevented his being able to walk or escape but that otherwise it would not have been serious. Their armies were fighting all over the world with desperate berserker fury, savagely contesting every inch of terrain, hurling countless suicide raids against Allied forces (kamikaze attacks on American ships at Okinawa came in waves of a hundred planes at a time) — while the bureaucrats behind the lines gradually retreated into a dreamy paper war where they were on the brink of a triumphant reversal of fortune. The Americans would surrender after Pearl Harbor, the Soviet Union would crumble as soon as German troops crossed the border — the whole world would bow down before their inherent racial superiority. Several were lifting their arms and legs and never attempted to get up, so I knew that they were wounded. I examined the wounds, and it seemed clear, from caked blood on margin of wound, that burning took place after the wounds had bled freely. Gilles and Termonde and saw two Belgian soldiers whose eyes had been gouged out with bayonet thrusts, and who had received seven bullet wounds in the back. Not everyone joined the stampede, but those who stayed to protect their homes learned that their worst fears had been wholly justified. trenched meaning a day in the trenches pacific ocean mariana trench the marina trench what happened in the trenches black mens coat brown wool trench coat brown jackets for women brown trench dkny trench coat brown leather trench coat women male trench coats mens red trench coat marianas trench 2014 trench life facts photos of mariana trench marriana trench trench define castiel trench coat maryana trench ww 1 trenches mariane trench mariana trench ocean trench services construction trench definition of a trench trench depth mens single breasted trench coat black leather trench coat men red trench coat men

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