Philip M.

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I was drinking about a fifth and a half of whiskey every day. Sometimes homemade, sometimes what I could buy. It was the only way I could kill. I had friends who were Japanese and I kept thinking every time I pulled a trigger on a man or pushed a flamethrower down into a hole: What is this person’s family gonna say when he doesn’t come back? He’s got a wife, he’s got children, somebody.
The Good War: An Oral History of World War II
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