Bugles and a Tiger : My Life in the Gurkhas

The Whydah: A Pirate Ship Feared, Wrecked, and Found

From School Library Journal Gr 6 Up—Sandler dispels many popular pirate-related myths and offers a more realistic and factual view of the era of piracy in the New World. Instead of living in abject poverty at the mercy of kings and nobles, many men embraced piracy as a means to support their families and live a comfortable life, though one often filled with barbarous acts. The author weaves a fascinating story about piracy and the legendary 18th-century pirate ship Whydah, which sunk off the coast of Cape Cod on April 24, 1717, during a perfect storm. He delves into the fates of the few survivors, early salvage attempts by poor locals and wealthy governors alike, and the long-term work of explorer Barry Clifford to find the sunken ship. In 1985, Clifford and his crew discovered the inscribed galley bell of the Whydah, and for 30 years, divers, marine historians, and archaeologists have continued to retrieve artifacts from the ocean depths. Occasional sidebars on specific topics, such as the mythic origins of the Jolly Roger flag and artifact restoration, break up the narrative flow but do contain valuable information. Sandler's approach to the Whydah and other submerged ships as "sunken time capsules" is an interesting angle that is sure to resonate with aspiring archaeologists. VERDICT A captivating read on pirates, with insights into contemporary underwater research techniques. Considering the popularity of the subject, this volume will likely not sit on shelves long.—Anne Jung-Mathews, Plymouth State University, NH Review Sandler’s approach to the Whydah and other submerged ships as “sunken time capsules” is an interesting angle that is sure to resonate with aspiring archaeologists. A captivating read on pirates, with insights into contemporary underwater research techniques. Considering the popularity of the subject, this volume will likely not sit on shelves long.—School Library Journal (starred review)Sandler offers an insightful look at how different the realities of pirate life were compared to how it has been mythologized in popular culture...A fascinating, vivid look at what one shipwreck reveals about the realities of the "Golden Age of Piracy."—Kirkus ReviewsThis book brings to life...The account of the challenges Clifford and his crew had to face to find the Whydah is very thorough.—School Library ConnectionSandler’s broad research and his evident fascination with the subject result in a multifaceted story that many readers will find rewarding.—BooklistSandler keeps the multiple threads of Whydah’s story running smoothly, even integrating legends about Bellamy and the haunted wreckage seamlessly into the factual information...Weighing in well under two hundred pages, this quick high interest read is an ideal recommendation for kids who “have to read a nonfiction book,” and pirate and archaeology enthusiasts will certainly be thrilled.—Bulletin of the Center for Children's BooksSandler enlivens the historical narrative by fleshing out the biographical details of the cast of characters, sharing (and occasionally debunking) various myths and legends, providing an overview of the relevant social and economic factors of the day, and spotlighting the work of excavating the shipwreck site. Useful photographs, maps, and sidebars are interspersed throughout, while source notes, bibliography, and index are appended.—The Horn BookFast-paced, thorough, and fascinating, this choice is certain to especially hold the interest of any pirate lover and treasure hunter.—Reading Eagle (from Kendal Rautzhan's "Books to Borrow") About the Author Martin W. Sandler has written more than seventy books for children and adults, including Iron Rails, Iron Men, and the Race to Link the Nation: The Story of the Transcontinental Railroad and The Impossible Rescue: The True Story of an Amazing Arctic Adventure. Martin W. Sandler lives with his wife on Cape Cod. Read more

Old School: Life in the Sane Lane

About the Author BILL O'REILLY is a trailblazing TV journalist who has experienced unprecedented success on cable news and in writing eighteen national number-one bestselling nonfiction books. There are more than eighteen million books in the Killing series in print. He lives on Long Island. Bruce Feirstein is a screenwriter of the James Bond films GoldenEye , Tomorrow Never Dies , and The World Is Not Enough and the New York Times bestselling author of Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche . He has written for The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal and has been a contributing editor at Vanity Fair since 1994.

Things That Matter: Three Decades of Passions, Pastimes and Politics [Deckled Edge]

Amazon.com Review Author One-on-One: Charles Krauthammer and Dana Perino In this Amazon One-to-One, Charles Krauthammer and Dana Perino discuss Dr. Krauthammer’s new book Things That Matter: Three Decades of Passions, Pastimes, and Politics . Charles Krauthammer is a Pulitzer Prize-winning syndicated columnist, political commentator and physician. Dana Perino is a Former White House Press Secretary who worked with President George W. Bush, contributor and co-host of The Five on FOX News. She is a long-time friend and fan of Charles Krauthammer. Dana Perino: Your new book covers three decades of your writings, divided into 16 chapters, and grouped into categories of the things that have mattered to you in your life. As you reviewed your body of work, were you surprised by anything that you had written? Did you ever think, “I can’t believe I ever thought that”? Charles Krauthammer: No real surprises—I find that I agree with myself a lot—except for my enthusiastic review of Independence Day . Though I might've been unduly swayed by seeing the premiere with my son, then ten, who announced after the showing that he would see the movie every week for the rest of his life. DP: The thing that has mattered most to you is your family. Your book opens with a column that could be called “a two-hankie job.” How hard is it to write about the people that you love, to give people a glimpse into your personal life? CK: I didn’t become a writer to write about myself. In fact, I don't even like using the word "I" in writing an opinion column, let alone a personal one. The only times I really have written about my own life is when it had a purpose outside myself, such as honoring a person, perhaps a friend or mentor, of extraordinary character. DP: As a long-time fan of yours, there are some of your columns that I remember reading, and where I was when I read it, and how I said to my husband, “That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Do you know when a column is going to be a hit? CK: Quite the opposite. I'm always amazed how wrong I am. A column that I think will sink like a stone might catch on like wildfire. Others that I'm proud and smug about as I submit for publication, leave no trace. Which is why I'm a writer, not a publisher. I wasn't made for marketing. DP: The original essay you penned for Things That Matter is like an award-winning exhibit of your heart and mind. What will readers learn about you that they may not have known? CK: How improbable my life story is. I still wake up simply amazed how I've ended up where I am, mostly by serendipity and sheer blind luck. I started out as a doctor. I ended as a writer. And that's the least of the stunning twists and turns that have defined my life—which I write about, for the first time, in the introductory essay to Things That Matter . DP: You have become a must-read and a must-see on television news programs. Parents shush their children when you’re about to speak. On the rare Friday when you don’t have a column or when you’re not on Special Report with Bret Baier , your mom gets calls of “Where is Charles?” Disappointment hangs heavy over your fans. But who are your weekly must-reads? CK: George Will. David Brooks. Mickey Kaus. And for that happy half of every year—April through October—the (daily) box score of the Washington Nationals. DP: Do you think that your training as a psychiatrist has given you an advantage when observing people in politics? CK: Actually, no. Psychiatry has everything to say about mental illness, very little to say about ordinary life. It offers no magical formulas for understanding human behavior beyond what any lay person can see. Although I do like to joke that there's not much difference in what I do today as a political analyst in Washington from what I used to do as a psychiatrist in Boston—in both lines of work, I deal every day with people who suffer from paranoia and delusions of grandeur. The only difference is that the paranoids in Washington have access to nuclear weapons. DP: You wrote a column on September 12, 2001 that is included in Things That Matter . How difficult was that to write under the time pressure of the day, and to keep your commentary to standard column length? CK: Like the whole country, I was on fire with fury. I felt I simply had to write. The difficulty was less time pressure than emotional pressure—trying to suppress my feelings so I could be as analytical as possible. Sometimes that kind of writing can be disastrous. I think this one came out right. DP: Given the mention in your essay, and because I have a gut feeling that we’re on the same page, what is your preferred style on serial commas? CK: With commas the rule should always be: the fewer the better. They are a scourge, a pestilence upon the land. They must be given no quarter. When you list three things, it should be written: a, b and c. If you see a comma after the "b"—call 911 immediately. DP: Many readers may not realize that you once were a Democrat? Was it a gradual or a spectacular breakup? CK: Like most breakups, gradual. Like few breakups, however, without regret. DP: You have covered politics and government since the Carter administration. Do you believe that America’s politics are too strained, too partisan, and too deranged to make meaningful progress? CK: Not at all. What we need is not a new politics but a new president. DP: What do you think will be the things that matter 20–30 years from now? CK: The things that really matter, as I try to explain in the introductory essay—the cosmic questions of origins and meaning, the great achievements of science and art, the great mysteries of creation and consciousness—shall always be with us. Thirty years from now, 300 years from now. I hope that one contribution of this book will be to provide some illumination on these wondrous mysteries and achievements. DP: If you had a magic wand and could get the U.S. federal government to do three things, what would be your top priorities? CK: Abolish the income tax code with its staggeringly intrusive and impenetrable provisions and replace it with a clean consumption tax. Get out of the race business and return the country to the colorblind vision of Martin Luther King. Kill the penny. Review “Required reading…Krauthammer is among the very best—and this is the best of the best, selected by him, with an engaging and fascinating introduction…Amazingly fresh, and full of thought-provoking formulations and arguments.” –The Weekly Standard “A fantastic read, a cerebral read, a fun read.” –Guy Benson, Townhall “It’s going to be a big hit.” –Bill O’Reilly, The O’Reilly Factor (October 21, 2013) “Krauthammer’s assets include steel-trap logic, an epée wit, a profound sense of history, and a withering contempt for journalists who would rather cringe in the dark than bring the truth to light.” –City Journal America, you’ve got to read this for your own great pleasure and relief.” – Hugh Hewitt (October 31, 2013) "The best American columnists make their British counterparts look like bumbling amateurs,but none of them writes with more sense,sensibility and sanity than the Washington Post's Charles Krauthammer. Things That Matter , selected from a lifetime of writing, bears comparison with the greatest of American prose." -Daniel Johnson, Standpoint "Usually thought of as a conserva-tive, this syndicated columnist has won both the left-wing People for the American Way’s First Amendment Award and the right-wing Bradley Foundation’s first $250,000 Bradley Prize. Readers of all political persuasions will find plenty here that’s thought-provoking and worthwhile." -Pittsburg Tribune-Review “Krauthammer’s first collection in more than 20 years is a priceless introduction to the columnist’s writing. And for those who have thrilled at the sight of a Krauthammer byline for decades, Things That Matter is a window into the master polemicist’s habits of mind, heart, and technique.” -Matthew Continetti, Commentary “For three decades, Charles Krauthammer has enriched American political discourse with his sharply-honed analysis, humane values, and questing mind.  From personal meditations to learned examinations of history and policy, Things That Matter stands as a record of a transformative period in the American experience, and a remarkable intellect at work.” -Henry A. Kissinger "Charles Krauthammer is not only the most influential conservative commentator in America, his writing transcends the crush of daily events and can be read, with profit, always." –David Brooks, New York Times columnist and bestselling author of The Social Animal “Amid today's clutter of print and cacophony of broadcast commentary, Charles Krauthammer's lapidary judgments stand out, and stand the test of time. Literature has been called news that lasts. Krauthammer's columns take journalism to the level of literature.” –George F. Will, Washington Post columnist “Blending high-mindedness with strong conservative values, he has commanded respect on both the extreme and moderate sides of the spectrum, becoming the closest thing the factionalized GOP could have to a spokesperson, a de facto opposition leader for the thinking right.” - POLITICO About the Author Charles Krauthammer, winner of the Pulitzer Prize, was a syndicated columnist, political commentator and physician. His column was syndicated to 400 newspapers worldwide. He was a nightly panelist on Fox News’s Special Report with Bret Baier . He’s a former member of the President’s Council on Bioethics and of Chess Journalists of America. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. introductionI. THE BOOK What matters? Lives of the good and the great, the innocence of dogs, the cunning of cats, the elegance of nature, the wonders of space, the perfectly thrown outfield assist, the difference between historical guilt and historical responsibility, homage and sacrilege in monumental architecture, fashions and follies and the finer uses of the F-word.What matters? Manners and habits, curiosities and conundrums social and ethical: Is a doctor ever permitted to kill a patient wishing to die? Why in the age of feminism do we still use the phrase “women and children”? How many lies is one allowed to tell to advance stem cell research?What matters? Occam’s razor, Fermat’s last theorem, the Fermi paradox in which the great man asks: With so many habitable planets out there, why in God’s name have we never heard a word from a single one of them?These are the things that most engage me. They fill my days, some trouble my nights. They give me pause, pleasure, wonder. They make me grateful for the gift of consciousness. And for three decades they have occupied my mind and commanded my pen.I don’t claim these things matter to everyone. Nor should they. I have my eccentricities. I’ve driven from Washington to New York to watch a chess match. Twice. I’ve read Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time . Also twice, though here as a public service—to reassure my readers that this most unread bestseller is indeed as inscrutable as they thought. And perhaps most eccentric of all, I left a life in medicine for a life in journalism devoted mostly to politics, while firmly believing that what really matters, what moves the spirit, what elevates the mind, what fires the imagination, what makes us fully human are all of these endeavors, disciplines, confusions and amusements that lie outside politics.Accordingly, this book was originally going to be a collection of my writings about everything but politics. Things beautiful, mysterious, profound or just odd. Working title: There’s More to Life than Politics. But in the end I couldn’t. For a simple reason, the same reason I left psychiatry for journalism. While science, medicine, art, poetry, architecture, chess, space, sports, number theory and all things hard and beautiful promise purity, elegance and sometimes even transcendence, they are fundamentally subordinate. In the end, they must bow to the sovereignty of politics.Politics, the crooked timber of our communal lives, dominates everything because, in the end, everything—high and low and, most especially, high—lives or dies by politics. You can have the most advanced and efflorescent of cultures. Get your politics wrong, however, and everything stands to be swept away. This is not ancient history. This is Germany 1933.“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know,” every schoolchild is fed. But even Keats— poet, romantic, early 19th-century man oblivious to the horrors of the century to come—kept quotational distance from such blissful innocence. Turns out we need to know one more thing on earth: politics— because of its capacity, when benign, to allow all around it to flourish, and its capacity, when malign, to make all around it wither.This is no abstraction. We see it in North Korea, whose deranged Stalinist politics has created a land of stunning desolation and ugliness, both spiritual and material. We saw it in China’s Cultural Revolution, a sustained act of national self-immolation, designed to dethrone, debase and destroy the highest achievements of five millennia of Chinese culture. We saw it in Taliban Afghanistan, which, just months before 9/11, marched its cadres into the Bamiyan Valley and with tanks, artillery and dynamite destroyed its magnificent cliff-carved 1,700-year-old Buddhas lest they—like kite flying and music and other things lovely—disturb the scorched-earth purity of their nihilism. Politics is the moat, the walls, beyond which lie the barbarians. Fail to keep them at bay, and everything burns. The entire 20th century with its mass political enthusiasms is a lesson in the supreme power of politics to produce ever-expanding circles of ruin. World War I not only killed more people than any previous war. The psychological shock of Europe’s senseless self-inflicted devastation forever changed Western sensibilities, practically overthrowing the classical arts, virtues and modes of thought. The Russian Revolution and its imitators (Chinese, Cuban, Vietnamese, Cambodian) tried to atomize society so thoroughly—to war against the mediating structures that stand between the individual and the state—that the most basic bonds of family, faith, fellowship and conscience came to near dissolution. Of course, the greatest demonstration of the finality of politics is the Holocaust, which in less than a decade destroyed a millennium-old civilization, sweeping away not only 6 million souls but the institutions, the culture, the very tongue of the now-vanished world of European Jewry.The only power comparably destructive belongs to God. Or nature. Or, if like Jefferson you cannot quite decide, Nature’s God. Santorini was a thriving island civilization in the Mediterranean until, one morning 3,500 years ago, it simply fell into the sea. An earthquake. A volcanic eruption. The end.And yet even God cannot match the cruelty of his creation. For every Santorini, there are a hundred massacres of innocents. And that is the work of man—more particularly, the work of politics, of groups of men organized to gain and exercise power.Which in its day-to-day conduct tends not to be the most elevated of human enterprises. Machiavelli gave it an air of grandeur and glory, but Disraeli’s mordant exultation “I have climbed to the top of the greasy pole,” best captured its quotidian essence—grubby, grasping, manipulative, demagogic, cynical.The most considered and balanced statement of politics’ place in the hierarchy of human disciplines came, naturally, from an American. “I must study politics and war,” wrote John Adams, “that my sons may have the liberty to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, and naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture, in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry and porcelain.”Adams saw clearly that politics is the indispensable foundation for things elegant and beautiful. First and above all else, you must secure life, liberty and the right to pursue your own happiness. That’s politics done right, hard-earned, often by war. And yet the glories yielded by such a successful politics lie outside itself. Its deepest purpose is to create the conditions for the cultivation of the finer things, beginning with philosophy and science, and ascending to the ever more delicate and refined arts. Note Adams’ double reference to architecture: The second generation must study naval architecture—a hybrid discipline of war, commerce and science—before the third can freely and securely study architecture for its own sake.The most optimistic implication of Adams’ dictum is that once the first generation gets the political essentials right, they remain intact to nurture the future. Yet he himself once said that “there never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide.” Jefferson was even less sanguine about the durability of liberty. He wrote that a constitutional revolution might be needed every 20 years. Indeed, the lesson of our history is that the task of merely maintaining strong and sturdy the structures of a constitutional order is unending, the continuing and ceaseless work of every generation.To which I have devoted much of my life. And which I do not disdain by any means. Indeed, I intend to write a book on foreign policy and, if nature (or God or Nature’s God) gives me leave, to write yet one more on domestic policy. But this book is intended at least as much for other things. Things that for me, as for Adams, shine most brightly. Read more

FranklinCovey - Everyday Greatness: Inspiration for a Meaningful Life - Hardcover

Killing Patton: The Strange Death of World War II's Most Audacious General (Bill O'Reilly's Killing Series)

Amazon.com Review Amazon Exclusive: Senator John McCain Reviews Killing Patton In Killing Patton: The Strange Death of World War II’s Most Audacious General , Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard have written a lively, provocative account of the death of General George S. Patton and the important events in the final year of the Allied victory in Europe, which Patton’s brilliant generalship of the American Third Army did so much to secure. The fourth book in the bestselling Killing series is rich in fascinating details, and riveting battle scenes. The authors have written vivid descriptions of a compelling cast of characters, major historical figures such as Eisenhower, Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin, Hitler, and others, as well as more obscure players in the great drama of the Second World War and the life and death of Patton. O’Reilly and Dugard express doubts about the official explanation for Patton’s demise from injuries he suffered in an automobile accident. They surmise that the General’s outspokenness about his controversial views on postwar security, particularly his animosity toward the Soviets, our erstwhile allies, might have made him a target for assassination. They cast a suspicious eye toward various potential culprits from Josef Stalin to wartime espionage czar “Wild Bill” Donovan and a colorful OSS operative, Douglas Bazata, who claimed later in life to have murdered Patton. Certainly, there are a number of curious circumstances that invite doubt and speculation, Bazata’s admission for one. Or that the drunken sergeant who drove a likely stolen truck into Patton’s car inexplicably was never prosecuted or even reprimanded. But whether you share their suspicions or not this is popular history at its most engrossing. From accounts of the terribly costly battle for Fort Driant in the hills near Metz to the Third Army’s crowning achievement, its race to relieve the siege of Bastogne in the Battle of the Bulge, the reader experiences all the drama of the “great crusade” in its final, thrilling months. The authors’ profiles of world leaders and Patton’s contemporaries are economic but manage to offer fresh insights into the personalities of well-known men. Just as compelling are the finely wrought sketches of people of less renown but who played important parts in the events. There is PFC Robert Holmund, who fought and died heroically at Fort Driant having done all he could and then some to take his impossible objective. PFC Horace Woodring, Patton’s driver, who revered the general, went to his grave mystified by the cause and result of the accident that killed his boss. German Field Marshall Erwin Rommel’s young son, Manfred, exchanged a formal farewell handshake with him after learning his father would be dead in a quarter hour, having been made to commit suicide to prevent the death and dishonor of his family. These and many other captivating accounts of the personal and profound make Killing Patton a pleasure to read. I enjoyed it immensely and highly recommend it to anyone with an interest in World War II history and the extraordinary man who claimed Napoleon’s motto, “audacity, audacity, always audacity,” as his own. About the Author BILL O'REILLY is a trailblazing TV journalist who has experienced unprecedented success on cable news and in writing eighteen national number-one bestselling nonfiction books. There are more than eighteen million books in the Killing series in print. He lives on Long Island.MARTIN DUGARD is the New York Times bestselling author of several books of history, among them the Killing series, Into Africa , and Taking Paris. He and his wife live in Southern California. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Killing Patton The Strange Death of World War II's Most Audacious General By Bill O'Reilly, Martin Dugard Henry Holt and Company Copyright © 2014 Bill O'Reilly and Martin DugardAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-0-8050-9668-2 CHAPTER 1 The Hills above Metz, France October 3, 1944 12:02 P.M. Private First Class Robert W. Holmlund is scared. He believes his life may be over at age twenty-one. The American assault is just two minutes old—two minutes that feel like twenty. The private serves as an explosives expert in the Third Army, Company B, Eleventh Infantry Regiment, Fifth Infantry Division. Holmlund is a student from the American heartland who left trade school to join the war. His senior commander is the most ferocious general on the Allied side, George S. Patton Jr. But unlike Patton, who now oversees his vast army from the safety of his headquarters twenty-five miles behind the front, Holmlund and the men of Baker Company are in grave danger as they sprint toward the heavily defended German fort known as Driant. German machine-gun bullets whiz past Holmlund's helmet at twice the speed of sound. Heads and torsos shatter all around him. U.S. artillery thunders in the distance behind them, laying down cover fire. The forest air smells of gunpowder, rain, and the sharp tang of cordite. The ground is nothing but mud and a thick carpet of wet leaves. Here and there a bramble vine reaches out to snag his uniform and trip his feet. Over his broad shoulders, Holmlund wears a block of TNT known as a satchel charge. Grenades dangle from his cartridge belt like grapes on a vine. And in his arms, rather than carrying it by the wooden handle atop the stock, Holmlund cradles his fifteen-pound, four-foot-long Browning Automatic Rifle, or BAR, as he would an infant. Only, this baby is a killing machine, capable of firing 650 three-inch bullets per minute. Though he doesn't show it, Robert W. Holmlund is scared, despite all that firepower, just like every single man in this lethal forest. But there is no time to indulge his fear right now. No time for homesickness or doubt. Fort Driant looms four hundred yards distant. Everything about the fortress is a mystery, from the location of its big 150 mm howitzers to the maze of tunnels deep underground where its Wehrmacht inhabitants eat, sleep, pray, clean their rifles, plan their battles, and then suddenly poke their heads out of secret openings to kill. Patton has ordered Baker Company to get inside Driant. The best way to do that is to climb on the roof, which is concealed by mounds of earth. From there, it's a matter of finding a doorway or some other hidden opening that will allow Baker to descend and wage war in the tunnels. Baker is part of a two-pronged assault. On the opposite side of the fort, the men of Easy Company are also on the attack. But they do so warily, for Driant has already bloodied them once. It happened six days ago. Skies were clear. P-47 fighter-bombers screamed in low on the morning of the assault, dropping napalm and thousand-pound bombs. American artillery then pounded Driant, shelling the Germans with deadly accuracy. Easy Company launched their attack alongside the men of George Company at 1415 hours under a heavy smoke screen. They had no way of knowing that the aerial bombing and ground artillery had no effect on the Wehrmacht fighters, nor that the enemy was snug and secure within Driant's fifteen-foot-thick walls and in hidden forest pillboxes. Step by step, thinking themselves unseen, the U.S. soldiers advanced. Fingers were on triggers as the men scanned the forest, waiting for the muzzle flashes that would expose the enemy. But the Germans did not shoot. Not yet. So Easy and George crept closer to Driant. With each passing moment, they became more convinced that the smoke screen had completely concealed them. They marched closer and closer, and still no German gunshots. Soon a thick tangle of barbwire loomed before the Americans, marking the outer perimeter of Driant's defenses. There was no way through the razor-sharp coils. The advance ground to a halt. The Germans opened fire. The autumn afternoon was rent by a terrifying sound the Americans knew all too well. Their slang for the high-speed ripping sound of a German MG-42 machine gun is "Hitler's Zipper." To the Wehrmacht, this killing tone is simply the "Bone Saw." MG-42s opened up from every direction. Bullets tore through the woods at twelve hundred rounds per minute, capable of killing a man from more than a half mile away. But the machine guns were just the beginning. Soon mortars, rifles, and even heavy artillery pounded the Americans from every direction. And just like that, the American attack was over. Soldiers hugged the ground for four long hours as German gunners pinpointed their positions and took slow, deliberate aim. It was only after darkness fell that the men of Company E and Company G crawled back to the safety of the American lines. September 27 was a bad day for the men of Easy. By the end of the fight, eighteen soldiers had been either killed or wounded. Today will be even worse. * * * Private Holmlund can go no farther. Nor can the rest of Baker Company. The mountain of barbwire surrounding Driant blocks their path. Thirty feet tall and just as thick, the impenetrable tangle waits to trap any man unlucky enough to snag his uniform or his body within its tendrils. Clipping at it with hand cutters will take days—which is why Holmlund's company commander, Capt. Harry Anderson, has given the order: blow the wire to hell. Behind him, Holmlund hears the low rumble of a Continental R-975 air-cooled engine. The telltale crunch of steel treads soon follows, announcing the arrival of an M-4 Sherman tank. Even as the German machine gunners continue to fire on Baker, the Sherman weaves through the trees and takes aim. Its 75 mm gun belches smoke as it fires a round of M-48 high explosive into the wire. A direct hit is soon followed by another, and then another. Within moments, the barbwire parts just enough for Baker Company to sprint through. Captain Anderson splits the soldiers into three groups. Holmlund's squad continues toward Driant in a straight line, while the other two squads flank to the right. The landscape is pocked with shell craters, like a man-made lunar surface. Trees and shrubs grow randomly, offering just the slightest bit of camouflage from the German defenders. The private is in the first wave of American attackers. He dives into a shell crater, presses himself flat against the lip, then pokes his head over the top and fires his BAR at the enemy. Holmlund then sprints forward to a row of small elm trees, where he once again takes cover and seeks out a target. The ground is cool and damp, moisture seeping through his uniform. He fires and moves forward, always forward, never taking his focus off the flat roof of Driant. Despite the cool October temperature, Holmlund is now drenched in sweat. His face and hands are flecked with mud. He hurls himself into another shell crater and hugs the earth. This close to the ground, he is eye level with the fungus and bright green mold sprouting up through the fallen leaves. Bullets whiz low over his head. He reloads and listens, waiting for the chance to fire. The sounds of the battlefield are familiar: the chatter of machine guns, the screams of the mortally wounded, the concussive thud of hand grenades, orders barked in short, terse sentences. Screams for "Medic" fill the air. Holmlund fires a burst from his rifle and then runs forward. He races past fallen comrades. He knows them all. They did push-ups side by side during basic training in Alabama. They sailed together for Europe in the hold of a troopship. They sat in an English pasture just hours before D-day, listening to General Patton deliver the greatest speech any of them had ever heard. And then, after D-day, Holmlund and Baker fought their way across France, rejoicing as they captured one small village after another, following Patton's order that they kill Germans in brutal and relentless fashion—lest they themselves be killed first. Now many of Holmlund's buddies lie dead or dying. And so ends the sound of their laughter, their rage, their boasts, their tales about that special girl back home, and all that talk about what they're going to do with their lives once the war ends. Holmlund doesn't even give them a second glance. And he doesn't stop moving forward. To stop is to become a target. Holmlund's fighting squad dwindles from twelve men down to six. The squad leader is hit, and Holmlund takes command without thinking twice about it. Slowly, in a form of progress that is measured in feet and inches instead of yards, Baker Company moves closer and closer to the German fortress. Two hours into the battle, PFC Robert W. Holmlund of Delavan City, Wisconsin, finds himself standing atop Fort Driant. * * * "The real hero," Holmlund heard George S. Patton say just four months ago, "is the man who fights even though he's scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overwhelm his honor, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood." As Holmlund watched, General Patton drew himself up to his full six-foot-two-inch height. His shoulders were broad and his face ruddy, with a strong chin and an aquiline nose. His uniform was a marvel, with four rows of ribbons, four shiny brass buttons, a polished helmet bearing his three general's stars, tan riding pants, and knee-high cavalry boots. Most vividly, a Colt .45-caliber pistol with an ivory grip was holstered on his hip, sending a strong signal that Patton is no bureaucrat. He's a warrior, and everybody had better know it. Patton continued: "Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best, and it removes all that is base. Americans pride themselves on being He Men—and they are He Men. Remember that the enemy is just as frightened as you are, and that they are not supermen." George Patton delivered "the Speech" in the British countryside, to the men of his Third Army, on June 5, 1944. Some of the soldiers watching were combat veterans. Most, like Holmlund, were brand new to the war. They found hope in Patton's words. They found a belief in their own courage. And most of all, each man sitting in that pasture under a glorious blue English sky found strength in the knowledge that he was being commanded by the most audacious, forthright, and brilliant general on either side of the war. Until that day, Holmlund had never seen Patton in the flesh, and had only heard stories about the legendary general—the man who'd never lost a battle, hero of North Africa and Sicily, but who was temporarily relieved of his command for slapping two privates convalescing in a military hospital whom he considered cowardly. Neither Holmlund nor any of the thousands of other soldiers seated in this pasture had any idea that their feelings for the general would come to vacillate between love and hate. In fact, Patton's nickname is "Old Blood and Guts," with the understanding that the guts of Patton rode on the blood of his soldiers. "You are not all going to die," Patton reassured the men whom he would soon lead into combat. His voice was high instead of gruff, which came as a surprise to Holmlund. "Only two percent of you right here today will die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Death, in time, comes to all men." * * * One half mile north of where Private Holmlund and the men of Company B are making their stand atop Fort Driant, death, as predicted, is coming to their fellow soldiers in Easy Company. The hope of Patton's speech is long forgotten. Unlike their first attack on Driant six days ago, Company E made it through the barbwire this time. But the Germans turned that into a fatal accomplishment, for once inside Easy was pinned down with precision mortar fire. Going forward has become impossible. Even worse, enemy shells are exploding to their rear, meaning that retreating back through the wire is also out of the question. Easy Company tries to solve the problem by calling in an artillery strike on their position, but this "Danger Close" barrage does nothing to stop the dug-in German gunners. Instead, friendly fire kills one of their own in a most gruesome fashion: the soldier's head is sliced cleanly from his body by a piece of flying explosive. Easy Company digs in. They have no choice. Two-foot-long portable shovels scrape troughs in the earth as German machine gunners continue to rake Easy's position. It is every man for himself. The terror continues. The Germans of Kampfgruppe Petersen take aim with 8 cm Granatwerfer 34 mortar fire and MG-42 machine guns. The Americans are defenseless. Killing them is as easy as finding the target and patiently squeezing the trigger. The Germans are in no hurry. The Americans are going nowhere. One after another, the young men who comprise Easy Company are cut down in the prime of their life. The company medics race from foxhole to foxhole to tend the wounded. But soon, one after another, they die, too. Hours pass. Rain drizzles down. The nightmare chatter of the Maschinengewehr accompanies the sounds of Company E digging their trenches deeper and deeper. Each man squats as low as possible, careful not to lift his head above ground level. Doing so would be an act of suicide. Easy's foxholes become filled with water, mud, blood, and each man's personal filth. Trench foot, from prolonged exposure to cold and wet, has become so common since the autumn rains arrived that it makes standing in yet another puddle a time of agony. But the men are beyond caring about the stench and squalor of their fighting holes. All they want to do is stay alive. * * * "Americans despise cowards," Patton continued all those months ago, putting his own spin on U.S. history. "Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost nor will ever lose a war; for the very idea of losing is hateful to an American. "All through your Army careers, you men have bitched about what you call 'chickenshit drilling.' That, like everything else in this Army, has a definite purpose. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be bred into every soldier. I don't give a f-ck for a man who's not always on his toes. You men are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready for what's to come. A man must be alert at all times if he expects to stay alive. If you're not alert, sometime, a German son-of-an-asshole-bitch is going to sneak up behind you and beat you to death with a sock full of shit!" A handful of the senior officers listening to the speech disapproved of Patton's coarse language. Patton could not care less. He believes that profanity is the language of the soldier, and that to speak to soldiers one must use words that will have the most impact. Few can deny that George Patton is entitled to this belief, nor that he is the consummate soldier. He is descended from a Civil War Confederate colonel, and has himself been in the military since graduating from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point in 1909. Soon after, he fought in Mexico against Pancho Villa. He then fought in the First World War at Saint-Mihiel, the legendary battlefield west of Metz where he walks now. Patton was the very first officer ever assigned to the U.S. Army tank corps, and is renowned for his tactical brilliance on the battlefield. He lives by the words of the great French general Napoléon, "L'audace, l'audace, toujours l'audace"—"Audacity, audacity, always audacity"—a motto that works well on the field of battle, but not so well in diplomatic situations. Patton has damaged his career again and again by saying and doing the sort of impulsive things that would see a lesser man relieved of his command for good. "An Army is a team," he continues; "it lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is pure horse shit. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don't know anything more about real fighting under fire than they know about f-cking!" Patton was forced to pause, as he knew he would be. The waves of laughter rolling toward the stage were deafening. (Continues...) Excerpted from Killing Patton by Bill O'Reilly, Martin Dugard . Copyright © 2014 Bill O'Reilly and Martin Dugard. Excerpted by permission of Henry Holt and Company. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. Read more

By Honor Bound: Two Navy SEALs, the Medal of Honor, and a Story of Extraordinary Courage

Review "A compelling and highly readable excursion into the actions of valorous men facing improbable odds." -Admiral Eric T. Olson, USN (Ret), Former Commander, US Special Operations Command "An exciting read and an All-American story that reflects their devotion to duty and to their brothers in arms." -Rick Perry, former Governor of Texas "Tommy and Mike’s valorous heroics remind us all of the exceptional men and women who serve our country, both then and now.” ―Admiral Mike Mullen, USN (ret.) Vietnam Veteran and 17th Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff About the Author TOM NORRIS received the Medal of Honor for his behind-enemy-lines rescue of two downed airmen in Vietnam in April 1972. He was born in Maryland and now lives in Northern Idaho.MIKE THORNTON, a native of South Carolina, was awarded the Medal for saving the life of his SEAL officer, Lieutenant Tom Norris. He lives in Texas.DICK COUCH is a graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy who has served as a Navy SEAL and as a CIA case officer. His nonfiction works include By Honor Bound , Down Range , The Finishing School , and The Warrior Elite .

Fantastic Story

The Gentleman's Guide to Life: What Every Guy Should Know About Living Large, Loving Well, Feeling Strong, and Looking Good

From the Inside Flap re a sensitive, bookish type or a beer-guzzling Cyber-jock--or just an average guy--The Gentleman's Guide to Life is a perfect and indispensable primer on looking, living, and feeling good, answering all your questions about clothes, career, fitness, love, and lust.How do I move up without selling out?How do I help my friends (and crush my enemies)?How do I feed and care for my boss?What kind of suit should I wear?What kind of shoes do I wear with the suit? Socks?Do I really need to take my vitamins?Is this impotence or lack of interest?How much sleep do I need?How can I bluff my way through a wine list?What is Cubism? How much should I tip?What CDs should I have to relax? To seduce?Do I like her? Do I really, really like her?What does she mean I don't listen?How do I propose (or ask for the ring back)?Am I the best man I can possibly be? From the Back Cover "I know what men want. If they read this book, they're much more likely to get it."--Frederique, Supermodel About the Author Steve Friedman is a writer living in New York City. He has written for GQ, Esquire, Details, and Mirabella among other publications. Read more

Killing the Rising Sun: How America Vanquished World War II Japan (Bill O'Reilly's Killing Series)

Review “An enthralling, gripping account of the bloody battles, huge decisions, and historic personalities that culminated in the decision to drop the atomic bomb and brought the war in the Pacific to its climactic end. A masterful, meticulously researched work that captures the barbarity of the war waged by those who swore allegiance to the Japanese Emperor – and by those who crushed the military might of the Rising Sun.” – General David H. Petraeus , commander of the surge in Iraq (2007-8) and coalition forces in Afghanistan (2010-2011) About the Author BILL O'REILLY is a trailblazing TV journalist who has experienced unprecedented success on cable news and in writing eighteen national number-one bestselling nonfiction books. There are more than eighteen million books in the Killing series in print. He lives on Long Island.MARTIN DUGARD is the New York Times bestselling author of several books of history, among them the Killing series, Into Africa , and Taking Paris. He and his wife live in Southern California. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Killing the Rising Sun How America Vanquished World War II Japan By Bill O'Reilly, Martin Dugard Henry Holt and Company Copyright © 2016 Henry HoltAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-62779-062-8 CHAPTER 1 Peleliu, Caroline Islands Pacific Ocean September 15, 1944 0832 Hours Destruction is near for the empire. The morning heat is so unbearable that Corporal Lewis Kenneth Bausell, USMC, has trouble breathing. He is huddled inside an amphibious landing vehicle with a dozen other marines of the First Battalion, headed for the section of Japanese-held beach code-named Orange One. Even this early in the morning, the temperature hovers at 100 degrees. The Americans are sweating profusely as their armored craft brings them ever closer to the sand. But heat is not the only factor — some of the perspiration is from nerves. These marines understand that they may soon die or be maimed for life and few will ever know what happened to them. Unlike in the much more publicized war in Europe, where reporters like Ernie Pyle and Edward R. Murrow are making names for themselves by covering every aspect of the fighting, there are few journalists or photographers hitting this remote beach today. The crucial upcoming battle against the Japanese will be waged in near anonymity. Peleliu is important because of its airstrip, a hard-surfaced field capable of launching long-range fighter-bombers. The island is just six miles long and two miles wide, but the terrain is exceptionally rugged, a film of thin soil laid atop coral and limestone. A thousand yards off the beach rise the jungle-covered Umurbrogol ridges, a series of low, jagged peaks forming the island's spine. The Japanese have long coveted tiny, remote Peleliu, first taking possession of the empty island in 1914. For two decades it remained basically unused, but with the war came renewed awareness of its tactical importance. Since this past summer, knowing that the Americans would soon attack, the Japanese have labored to transform Peleliu into a fortress. Most American marines could not care less about the history of Peleliu. Each man approaches the coming battle in his own way. Some smoke to calm their fears, some vomit onto the steel deck, and others worry about wetting their pants. But there is one belief that every man shares: no matter what happens when they hit the beach, surrendering to the enemy will not be an option. Lewis Bausell has been through this before. Only twenty years old, the apprentice bookbinder from Washington, DC, has an easy smile and a wide boxer's nose. His hair is cropped close to his skull. Bausell had a semester left at McKinley Technical High School when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in December 1941. He immediately dropped out of school and tried to enlist in the navy but was rejected. So instead, he enlisted in the Marine Corps. During his more than two years serving his country, Bausell has earned the respect of his peers, and although his rank is not yet official, just one month ago Bausell was selected for promotion to the rank of sergeant because of his heroic performance and leadership during invasions on Tulagi, Gavutu, Guadalcanal, and Cape Gloucester. Now, as the amtrac churns forward through the flat surf toward Peleliu, Bausell buckles the chin strap of his steel helmet. The landing craft stalls momentarily on the coral reef one hundred yards offshore, then continues churning toward the landing zone. Bausell is tempted to peer up and over the side to glimpse the battlefield, but he keeps his head down. Japanese snipers are known to target the curious. All at once, geysers of water erupt around the landing craft. Incoming Japanese 141-mm mortar rounds fill the air. Many find their mark, killing Bausell's fellow marines on other landing craft. The explosions and the roar of artillery are so loud that Bausell and his squadmates cannot hear one another without yelling. The smoke of battle has turned the blue morning sky black. On any other day, Peleliu is a tropical island paradise. Today it is a living hell. "Hit the beach," yells a sergeant as the amtrac's steel treads reach the shore. Bausell vaults up and over the side, landing hard on the bone-white sand and coral. The staccato chatter of hidden Japanese machine guns forces Bausell to press his body flat against the earth. All around him, explosions bring flashes of light. The palm trees lining the beach are in flames. Crimson pools of American blood mingle with the yellow phosphorus of Japanese incendiary devices. "All any man could do was sweat it out and pray for survival," one marine will later write of his first moments on Peleliu. "It would have been sure suicide to stand up during that firestorm." Everything Bausell sees and hears gives the lie to what he and his fellow marines had been told about this tactically vital Japanese stronghold. In preparation for Operation Stalemate, the United States Navy bombarded Peleliu with ten days of aerial raids and two more days of naval shelling. It seemed impossible that anyone could have lived through such an intense barrage of napalm and artillery; "we have run out of targets," a top naval officer complained. American intelligence supported this notion, suggesting that the enemy response would be minimal. The Marine Corps officer commanding the invasion, Major General William Rupertus, predicted a quick and easy battle — "a hard fought 'quickie' that will last for four days, five days at most." But as Corporal Lewis Bausell and his squad can now attest, Peleliu will not be taken easily. Its defenders have had months to prepare. Mortar launchers and artillery are concealed behind the 2,200-yard beachfront, targeted to strike the precise spots at which the Americans now race ashore. In addition, the Japanese have constructed antitank barriers, laid hundreds of mines, and lined the beach with every coil of barbed wire in the Caroline Islands. "Spider traps" — machine-gun nests made of coconut-tree logs — are camouflaged so well that they are almost invisible in the swampy landscape where jungle meets the sand. Yet Japanese commander Colonel Kunio Nakagawa is a realist. He knows the Americans will eventually work their way ashore. The US force is huge. So the wily colonel is employing a strategy tried just once before in the war. Despite the horrific welcome the Americans are now receiving, it is not his goal to win this battle on the beaches. Just a fraction of his army now fights the marines, but thousands of other elite troops wait inland, in a network of five hundred hidden caves in the nearby Umurbrogol highlands. These fukkaku defenses will allow Nakagawa and his men to counter the Americans, "bleeding them white" by coming out of hiding to attack when the marines least expect it. The attacking Japanese soldiers' ability to swarm out of nowhere led top British general William Slim to refer to them as "the most formidable fighting insect in history." The men of Nakagawa's Fourteenth Imperial Division embody that sentiment. Almost all are veteran warriors, hardened by years of battle. They have been living five stories underground, subsisting on a simple diet of rice and fish and enduring the beatings and harsh discipline from their officers that are typical of the Japanese army. "You could be beaten for anything," one Japanese soldier later remembered. "Being too short or being too tall, even because somebody didn't like the way you drank coffee. This was done to make each man respond instantly to orders, and it produced results. If you want soldiers who fight hard, they must train hard." These soldiers have been taught another crucial lesson: that the Japanese race is superior to all others, and that triumph over the inferior Americans is inevitable. That is a lie. But to soldiers of the Imperial Japanese Army, it doesn't matter. Their strongest belief of all is in the samurai code of Bushido, which stipulates that surrender is a form of dishonor. "The man who would not disgrace himself must be strong," reads a line from the Japanese army's Senjinkun, a pocket-size code of behavior issued to all servicemen. "Do not survive in shame as a prisoner. Die, to ensure that you do not leave ignominy behind you." Therein lies the basis for Colonel Nakagawa's trap. There is no escape route for the Japanese, no evacuation plan. The forty-six-year-old Nakagawa, who was decorated nine times for his heroism during Japan's earlier war with China, has already informed his wife that he will never see her again. Soon, very soon, he will lure the unsuspecting Americans into the Umurbrogol highlands and slaughter them. But in turn, he and his men will also be slaughtered. Surrender is not an option. * * * Corporal Lewis Bausell rises up off the sand and sprints in a low crouch. His goal is the protective shelter of a small coral ridge a hundred yards inland. All around him as he runs, shouts of "Get the hell off the beach!" mingle with desperate pleas of "Corpsman!" Bausell has never seen such destruction. Two hundred marines will die today; hundreds more will be wounded. Terrified corporals and privates now watch the bodies of their brother marines torn apart as fire from Japanese heavy artillery crashes down. "One figure seemed to fly to pieces," a marine will recall of a particularly grisly death. "With terrible clarity I saw the head and one leg fly into the air." "I saw a wounded Marine near me staggering," another American will remember. "His face was half bloody pulp and the mangled shreds of what was left of an arm hung down like a stick ... he fell behind me, in a red puddle on the white sand." Every man here knows what the Japanese army does to prisoners of war. Rather than hold men captive, the Japanese murder them in the most heinous fashion. Veterans of previous battles with this enemy have seen the corpses of marines unlucky enough to be taken alive. Some had their bodies roped to a tree and used for live bayonet practice. Some had their heads, arms, and legs chopped off; scores of US Marines were emasculated with bayonets as they lay dying on the ground. "It was kill or be killed," Marine Corps private Dan Lawler will later remember. "The Japs didn't take prisoners so we didn't take prisoners either." Or, as Marine Corps colonel Lewis "Chesty" Puller ordered his men before the Peleliu invasion: "You will take no prisoners. You will kill every yellow son-of-a-bitch, and that's it." * * * It seems an eternity, but it is only an hour before Corporal Bausell and a few of his fellow marines manage to get off the sand. Bausell's smile has been replaced by a tight-lipped glare. His instincts sharpened by his many previous landings, Bausell searches the tree line for signs of hidden enemy machine-gun emplacements targeting the invasion force. Suddenly, a burst of light gets Corporal Bausell's attention. The Japanese machine guns fire tracer bullets to help them zero in on a target, but these illuminated rounds can also help the marines pinpoint the shooter's precise location. Bausell sees a stream of tracers emerging from a small cave with a commanding view of the beach. The entrance is concealed by scrub plants and thick brush. Taking charge of the squad, he motions for his men to follow him toward the cave's location. Reaching the cave first, he fires into a small opening. Lieutenant Jack Kimble of Greenville, Mississippi, arrives with a two-man flamethrower team; a stream of fire is launched into the Japanese position in the hope of forcing the enemy to come out. Corporal Bausell, meanwhile, stands ready to shoot them as they emerge. The first Japanese to run screaming from the cave is carrying a grenade. He pulls the pin before Bausell can fire his M1 carbine. Not only does the explosion kill the Japanese soldier but shrapnel slices into several nearby marines. More flame is shot into the cave. Another Japanese soldier emerges. This time, Bausell shoots him dead. Yet another Japanese soldier runs out of the cave, choosing the sure death by rifle fire to being roasted alive. He too carries a grenade, hurling it at the Americans as Bausell raises his weapon. The grenade is launched before Bausell shoots; it lands near him and several other marines. The blast may kill them all. Without hesitation, Corporal Bausell throws his body onto the grenade. His torso rises off the ground as it explodes, smothering the blast. None of his fellow marines is hurt. "Get that Jap," Bausell shouts. Somehow, he is still alive. The flamethrower team shoots off a burst of flame, turning the Japanese soldier into a human torch. Less than two hours after landing on Peleliu, Corporal Lewis Bausell is put on a stretcher and carried back down the beach. He is loaded aboard an amtrac, then ferried out to the hospital ship Bountiful, where he is immediately taken into surgery. But doctors cannot stop the bleeding. The Japanese grenade has sent deadly shards of metal deep into Bausell's internal organs. On September 18, 1944, three days after the invasion of Peleliu, Corporal Lewis Bausell dies. Unlike those of soldiers fighting on World War II's European front, his body will not be lowered into the ground and marked with a monument so that his family might someday visit. Instead, his corpse is wrapped in sailcloth, tethered to a spent artillery shell, and dropped at sea. Corporal Lewis Bausell is the first United States Marine at the Battle of Peleliu whose death will see him awarded America's highest award for valor, the Medal of Honor, for actions above and beyond the call of duty in combat. He is not the last. CHAPTER 2 Leyte, Visayas Islands Philippines October 20, 1944 1300 Hours General Douglas MacArthur is grinning. "As Ripley says, believe it or not, we're here," he boasts to his chief of staff. Seven hundred miles west of Peleliu, where marines are now mired in their fifth bloody week of combat, the sixty-four-year-old commander of American forces in the Pacific leans over the rail of the USS Nashville. He gazes into the distance at his beloved Philippines, which were invaded by more than a hundred thousand US Army troops under his command less than four hours ago. His counterpart in Europe, General Dwight Eisenhower, became famous for the D-Day invasion of France this past June. So MacArthur, well known for his ego, has chosen to call the date of this invasion "A-Day," for "Attack Day." As on Peleliu, intelligence reports predicting minimal enemy resistance have proven very wrong. The Japanese are putting up a fierce fight for the Philippines. Even miles out to sea, MacArthur can hear the chatter of automatic-weapons fire coming from groves of palm trees and see the billowing plumes of black smoke from the jungle. Just overhead, American fighter-bombers buzz toward entrenched enemy positions, keeping a sharp eye out for Japanese Zero fighter planes. Two years ago, after the fall of the Philippines to the Japanese, the most humiliating defeat of MacArthur's storied career, the general promised the world that he would one day come back in glory to retake the islands. Now, he is setting out to make good on that vow. Douglas MacArthur, who likes to refer to himself in the third person as simply "MacArthur," is a shade over six feet tall, the son of a Medal of Honor–winning general through whom he has a lifelong connection to the Philippines. Arthur MacArthur Jr. fought in the American Civil War as a teenager and, after the Spanish-American War, served as military governor of the Philippines. Douglas graduated at the top of his class at West Point, and to this day is as narrow-waisted and fit as on his commissioning day in 1903. MacArthur clambers down a ladder hanging over the Nashville 's side and into a waiting landing craft. As he does every day, the general wears a freshly pressed khaki uniform that bears no insignia or ribbons. He fastidiously maintains the creases on his shirtsleeves and trousers by changing clothes frequently, and has just donned a fresh uniform for the landing. In case the landing goes horribly wrong and MacArthur is at risk of being taken prisoner, a loaded derringer that once belonged to his father rests in his hip pocket. Sweat stains seep into the gold braid encircling MacArthur's weathered field marshal's cap; his dark brown eyes are shielded from the ocean's glare by wire-rimmed Ray-Ban sunglasses. Completing these trademark aspects of his appearance, all of which have made the general an iconic figure worldwide, is the unlit corncob pipe clenched firmly between his teeth. (Continues...) Excerpted from Killing the Rising Sun by Bill O'Reilly, Martin Dugard . Copyright © 2016 Henry Holt. Excerpted by permission of Henry Holt and Company. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. Read more

Amazon.com Review Product Description In celebration of the centennial of Roger Tory Peterson's birth comes a historic collaboration among renowned birding experts and artists to preserve and enhance the Peterson legacy. This new book combines the Peterson Field Guide to Eastern Birds and Peterson Field Guide to Western Birds into one volume, filled with accessible, concise information and including almost three hours of video podcasts to make bird watching even easier. • 40 new paintings • Digital updates to Peterson's original paintings, reflecting the latest knowledge of bird identification • All new maps for the most up-to-date range information available • Text rewritten to cover the U.S. and Canada in one guide • Larger trim size accommodates range maps on every spread • Contributors include: Michael DiGiorgio, Jeff Gordon, Paul Lehman, Michael O'Brien, Larry Rosche, and Bill Thompson III • Includes URL to register for access to video podcasts Excerpts from Peterson Field Guide to Birds of North America Click on each image below to see a larger view Colorful songbirds with heavy, seed-crushing bills, cardinals and grosbeaks are popular at feeders. In North America, the Orchard and Baltimore Orioles are fairly widespread in the East; Bullock's is widespread in the West; and the Spot-breasted Oriole is limited to South Florida. Peterson sometimes painted over figures on a plate and sometimes even cut them out. Canyon Wren was missing from the original art. Michael O'Brien painted a new Canyon Wren for inclusion in the new field guide. The Orange Bishop is native to Africa but has been introduced in California. Peterson had not painted this bird for his field guides, so Michael O’Brien painted this one. Thumbnail maps help you determine at a glance if a bird is likely to be in your region. Large maps in back give detailed range information. From Booklist As new or revised field guides are published, they are getting too big to carry in a pocket. This one is no exception. It is larger and heavier than earlier Peterson Field Guides and combines the Peterson Field Guide to Eastern Birds (1992) and the Peterson Field Guide to Western Birds (1992) in a single volume. The new features include a more conversational text, online access to video podcasts, and small range maps with the plates as well as the usual range-maps section at the end. The text covers both Canada and the U.S., so it is more inclusive than many guides. When his first edition was published some 75 years ago, Peterson’s system for identifying field marks became the gold standard for birders worldwide. This updated edition has corrections to the taxonomy (name changes and specie identifications). Every effort has been made to present the most current information. Peterson’s paintings have been digitized, and 40 new paintings in his style are included where needed. The contributors who worked on this guide are well-known and respected birders, illustrators, and writers and have maintained the high standards that Peterson set. Birding field-trip leaders will want to make room in their backpacks for this guide because the large illustrations will be very useful in teaching while birding. Libraries of all types will also want this volume marking the 100th anniversary of Peterson’s birth because of its concise, accurate information and large illustrations. --Linda Scarth Review "I'm happy to report, the Peterson guide is back, and in a big way." - Birders World"This new field guide should solidify Peterson's already monumental place in the history of birding." Cleveland Plain Dealer"This book is a classic with updated information." - Birding Business About the Author Lee Allen Peterson grew up in Old Lyme, Connecticut, and is the younger son of Roger Tory Peterson. After graduating from Johns Hopkins University, Lee wrote the Peterson Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants and spent years photographing plants and giving natural history lectures at colleges and nature centers. He and his wife, Courtney, live in southeastern Pennsylvania.

Roger Tory Peterson, one of the world's greatest naturalists, received every major award for ornithology, natural science, and conservation, as well as numerous honorary degrees, medals, and citations, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom. The Peterson Identification System has been called the greatest invention since binoculars, and the Peterson Field Guides® are credited with helping to set the stage for the environmental movement. Read more

Gone, But Not Forgotten

About the Author Phillip Margolin is the author of fifteen New York Times bestsellers. Each novel displays a unique, compelling insider’s view of criminal behavior which comes from his long background as a criminal defense attorney who has handled thirty murder cases. He lives in Portland, Oregon. --This text refers to the audioCD edition. From the Inside Flap me Russ went into the bedroom, he  missed the rose and the note. His back was to the bed  when he stripped off his clothes and hung them in  the closet. When fifteen more minutes passed  without Vicky, Russ went back into the bedroom to phone  her best friend. That was when he saw the note on  the pillow on the immaculately made bed. There was  a black rose lying across the plain, white paper.  Written in a careful hand were the  words "Gone, But Not Forgotten." --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From the Publisher "The first time Russ went into the bedroom, he missed the rose and the note. His back was to the bed when he stripped off his clothes and hung them in the closet. When fifteen more minutes passed without Vicky, Russ went back into the bedroom to phone her best friend. That was when he saw the note on the pillow on the immaculately made bed. There was a black rose lying across the plain, white paper. Written in a careful hand were the words "Gone, But Not Forgotten." "Best fiction book of the year? Easy. Gone , But Not Forgotten keeps the twists and turns coming a breakneck speed." -- Larry King "One scary story... it takes a really crafty storyteller to put people on the edge of their seats and keep them there. But Phillip Margolin does just that." -- Chicago Tribune "This gripping, page-turning crime thriller is engrossing, intelligent and well-crafted... Gone , But Not Forgotten is the book you will want to tel your friends about." -- Jean M. Auel "Absolutely mesmerizing." -- Cosmopolitan --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Review "Best  fiction book of the year?  Easy. Gone , But Not Forgotten keeps the  twists and turns coming a breakneck speed." --  Larry King "One scary story... it  takes a really crafty storyteller to put people on  the edge of their seats and keep them there. But  Phillip Margolin does just that." -- Chicago  Tribune"This gripping, page-turning  crime thriller is engrossing, intelligent and  well-crafted... Gone , But  Not Forgotten is the book you will want to  tell your friends about." -- Jean M. Auel  "Absolutely mesmerizing." -- Cosmopolitan --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From AudioFile Whitton's reading of this gripping story of a clever serial killer is as brilliant as Margolin's writing. J.A.H. (c)AudioFile, Portland, Maine --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From the Back Cover "Best fiction book of the year? Easy. Gone , But Not Forgotten keeps the twists and turns coming a breakneck speed." -- Larry King "One scary story... it takes a really crafty storyteller to put people on the edge of their seats and keep them there. But Phillip Margolin does just that." -- Chicago Tribune< "This gripping, page-turning crime thriller is engrossing, intelligent and well-crafted... Gone , But Not Forgotten is the book you will want to tell your friends about." -- Jean M. Auel "Absolutely mesmerizing." -- Cosmopolitan --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From Publishers Weekly Margolin's gripping, gruesome whodunit about vanishing Portland housewives was a PW bestseller. Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. From Kirkus Reviews A rash of grisly torture/murders of upscale Portland, Oregon, housewives--each kidnapped by someone who leaves behind a black rose and a note saying ``Gone, but not forgotten''--turns out to have unholy roots in an identical series of killings across the country a decade earlier. Martin Darius, the megalomaniac developer accused of the crimes, swears he's innocent. But Nancy Gordon, an ex-detective from Hunter's Point (New York) homicide, tells his lawyer, Betsy Tannenbaum, that he's Peter Lake, whom she's convinced was behind the Hunter's Point killings--including those of Lake's wife and young daughter. Betsy's own investigation points to a coverup nine years ago: Lake was pardoned by police and a governor desperate to find starving kidnap victims that Nancy Gordon never mentioned to Betsy. Now that that governor's nomination to the Supreme Court could be jeopardized by any whiff of the pardon, Darius admits to Betsy that, yes, he's Lake and that he did indeed kill those women back then--but not the current victims, whom he insists obsessive Gordon has murdered in order to frame him. Gordon, meanwhile, has disappeared, and a third suspect has surfaced: Samantha Reardon, a surviving Hunter's Point victim whose graphically detailed captivity may be fueling a psychotic thirst for revenge. ``Can you imagine a case you wouldn't take?'' a reporter asks Betsy about her repulsive client--but in fact Betsy's ethical dilemma is only the beginning of her troubles. Margolin's writing won't win any prizes (``Darius was in Betsy's soul''; he's ``not just a bad person, but pure evil'')--but this slick, pulpish first novel will keep an awful lot of people up until dawn. -- Copyright ©1993, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. From Library Journal Four women disappear from Hunter's Point, New York, before the murdered bodies of Sandra Lake and her six-year-old daughter are found. Next to Mrs. Lake are a black rose and a note that reads, "Gone, but not forgotten." Ten years later women are vanishing from Portland, Oregon. In each of their homes is a black rose and a note identical to that found in Hunter's Point. After hearing about the New York case and its possible connection to his, Portland's district attorney, Alan Page, arrests wealthy Martin Darius for the torture and murder of the people whose bodies are found on his property. Meanwhile, Betsy Tannenbaum, a rising star in the legal profession and Darius's lawyer, discovers incriminating evidence against him. Margolin combines the riveting suspense of the traditional thriller with the current legal thriller to create a first-rate novel containing all the best elements of a mystery as well. The pat denouement is the only negative in this thoroughly enticing book. Essential for all fiction collections. Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 6/1/93. - Jo Ann Vicarel, Cleveland Heights-University Heights P.L., Ohio Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. Read more

The Tales of Beedle the Bard: The Illustrated Edition (Harry Potter)

About the Author J.K. ROWLING is the author of the enduringly popular, era-defining Harry Potter seven-book series, which have sold over 600 million copies in 85 languages, been listened to as audiobooks for over one billion hours and made into eight smash hit movies. To accompany the series, she wrote three short companion volumes for charity, including Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them , which went on to inspire a new series of films featuring Magizoologist Newt Scamander. Harry’s story as a grown-up was continued in a stage play, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child , which J.K. Rowling wrote with playwright Jack Thorne and director John Tiffany. In 2020, she returned to publishing for younger children with the fairy tale The Ickabog , the royalties for which she donated to her charitable trust, Volant, to help charities working to alleviate the social effects of the Covid 19 pandemic. Her latest children’s novel, The Christmas Pig , was published in 2021. J.K. Rowling has received many awards and honours for her writing, including for her detective series written under the name Robert Galbraith. She supports a wide number of humanitarian causes through Volant, and is the founder of the international children’s care reform charity Lumos. J.K. Rowling lives in Scotland with her family.

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A Killer's Wife (Desert Plains Book 1)

Review An Amazon Best Book of the Month: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense “ A Killer’s Wife is a high-stakes legal thriller loaded with intense courtroom drama, compelling characters, and surprising twists that will keep you turning the pages at breakneck speed.” —T.R. Ragan, New York Times bestselling author “Exquisitely paced and skillfully crafted, A Killer’s Wife delivers a wicked psychological suspense wrapped around a hypnotic legal thriller. One cleverly designed twist after another kept me saying—I did not see that coming.” —Steven Konkoly, Wall Street Journal bestselling author “A gripping thriller that doesn’t let up for a single page. Surprising twists with a hero you care about. I read the whole book in one sitting!” —Chad Zunker, bestselling author of An Equal Justice From the Publisher We all have an ex we regret—but Jessica Yardley’s ex-husband, Eddie, is everyone’s nightmare. Finding out your husband is a murderer isn’t something you ever get over. As an attorney, Jessica has spent years fighting injustice for others and making sure she and her daughter still have the safest and best life possible. But when a copycat killer mimicking Eddie’s MO enters the scene, Jessica knows law enforcement may not be able to catch him. Forced to confront her fears and the only source who truly understands the murderer, she visits her ex-husband. But doing so puts her and her daughter’s lives at risk...Eddie has his own agenda for the family he claims he never stopped loving. Sometimes to find the answer, you need the help of your worst enemy. Now not only must Jessica stop a serial killer on the loose, she must also protect her daughter and herself from one behind bars. A Killer’s Wife is a chilling tale with twists and turns I didn’t see coming. It’s a thriller that stays with you long after the last page. - Megha Parekh, Editor About the Author At the age of thirteen, when his best friend was interrogated by the police for over eight hours and confessed to a crime he didn’t commit, Victor Methos knew he would one day become a lawyer. After graduating from the University of Utah School of Law, Methos sharpened his teeth as a prosecutor for Salt Lake City before founding what would become the most successful criminal defense firm in Utah. In ten years Methos conducted more than one hundred trials. One particular case stuck with him, and it eventually became the basis for his first major bestseller, The Neon Lawyer . Since that time, Methos has focused his work on legal thrillers and mysteries, earning a Best Novel Edgar nomination for his title A Gambler’s Jury . He currently splits his time between Southern Utah and Las Vegas. Read more

A Merciful Silence (Mercy Kilpatrick Book 4)

Review “Kendra Elliot goes from strength to strength in her Mercy Kilpatrick stories, and this fourth installment is a gripping, twisty, and complex narrative that will have fans rapt…Easily the most daring and successful book in this impressive series.” —RT Book Reviews About the Author Kendra Elliot has landed on the Wall Street Journal bestseller list multiple times and is the award-winning author of the Bone Secrets and Callahan & McLane series, as well as the Mercy Kilpatrick novels: A Merciful Death , A Merciful Truth , and A Merciful Secret . Kendra is a three-time winner of the Daphne du Maurier Award, an International Thriller Writers finalist, and an RT Award finalist. She has always been a voracious reader, cutting her teeth on classic female heroines such as Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and Laura Ingalls. She was born, raised, and still lives in the rainy Pacific Northwest with her husband and three daughters, but she looks forward to the day she can live in flip-flops. Visit her at www.kendraelliot.com.

Malice: A Heart Stopping Thriller (An Agent Jade Monroe FBI Thriller Book 5)

About the Author C.M. Sutter is a crime fiction writer who resides in Florida, although she is originally from California. She is a member of numerous writers' organizations, including Fiction for All, Fiction Factor, and Writers etc. In addition to writing, she enjoys spending time with her friends and family. She is an art enthusiast and loves to create gourd birdhouses, pebble art, and handmade soaps. Hiking, bicycling, fishing, and traveling are a few of her favorite pastimes. Be the first to be notified of new releases and promotions at http: //cmsutter.com. --This text refers to the paperback edition.

The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America

Review “Engrossing . . . exceedingly well documented . . . utterly fascinating.” — Chicago Tribune “A dynamic, enveloping book. . . . Relentlessly fuses history and entertainment to give this nonfiction book the dramatic effect of a novel. . . . It doesn’t hurt that this truth is stranger than fiction.” — The New York Times "So good, you find yourself asking how you could not know this already." — Esquire “Another successful exploration of American history. . . . Larson skillfully balances the grisly details with the far-reaching implications of the World’s Fair.” — USA Today “As absorbing a piece of popular history as one will ever hope to find.” — San Francisco Chronicle “Paints a dazzling picture of the Gilded Age and prefigure the American century to come.” — Entertainment Weekly “A wonderfully unexpected book. . . Larson is a historian . . . with a novelist’s soul.” — Chicago Sun-Times From the Inside Flap Bringing Chicago circa 1893 to vivid life, Erik Larson's spellbinding bestseller intertwines the true tale of two men--the brilliant architect behind the legendary 1893 World's Fair, striving to secure America?s place in the world; and the cunning serial killer who used the fair to lure his victims to their death. Combining meticulous research with nail-biting storytelling, Erik Larson has crafted a narrative with all the wonder of newly discovered history and the thrills of the best fiction. From the Back Cover Bringing Chicago circa 1893 to vivid life, Erik Larson's spellbinding bestseller intertwines the true tale of two men--the brilliant architect behind the legendary 1893 World's Fair, striving to secure America's place in the world; and the cunning serial killer who used the fair to lure his victims to their death. Combining meticulous research with nail-biting storytelling, Erik Larson has crafted a narrative with all the wonder of newly discovered history and the thrills of the best fiction. About the Author ERIK LARSON is the author of four national bestsellers: In the Garden of Beasts , Thunderstruck , The Devil in the White City , and Isaac's Storm , which have collectively sold more than 5.5 million copies. His magazine stories have appeared in The New Yorker , The Atlantic Monthly , Harper's and other publications and his books have been published in fourteen countries. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The Black City How easy it was to disappear:A thousand trains a day entered or left Chicago. Many of these trains brought single young women who had never even seen a city but now hoped to make one of the biggest and toughest their home. Jane Addams, the urban reformer who founded Chicago's Hull House, wrote, "Never before in civilization have such numbers of young girls been suddenly released from the protection of the home and permitted to walk unattended upon the city streets and to work under alien roofs." The women sought work as typewriters, stenographers, seamstresses, and weavers. The men who hired them were for the most part moral citizens intent on efficiency and profit. But not always. On March 30, 1890, an officer of the First National Bank placed a warning in the help-wanted section of the Chicago Tribune, to inform female stenographers of "our growing conviction that no thoroughly honorable business-man who is this side of dotage ever advertises for a lady stenographer who is a blonde, is good-looking, is quite alone in the city, or will transmit her photograph. All such advertisements upon their face bear the marks of vulgarity, nor do we regard it safe for any lady to answer such unseemly utterances."The women walked to work on streets that angled past bars, gambling houses, and bordellos. Vice thrived, with official indulgence. "The parlors and bedrooms in which honest folk lived were (as now) rather dull places," wrote Ben Hecht, late in his life, trying to explain this persistent trait of old Chicago. "It was pleasant, in a way, to know that outside their windows, the devil was still capering in a flare of brimstone." In an analogy that would prove all too apt, Max Weber likened the city to "a human being with his skin removed."Anonymous death came early and often. Each of the thousand trains that entered and left the city did so at grade level. You could step from a curb and be killed by the Chicago Limited. Every day on average two people were destroyed at the city's rail crossings. Their injuries were grotesque. Pedestrians retrieved severed heads. There were other hazards. Streetcars fell from drawbridges. Horses bolted and dragged carriages into crowds. Fires took a dozen lives a day. In describing the fire dead, the term the newspapers most liked to use was "roasted." There was diphtheria, typhus, cholera, influenza. And there was murder. In the time of the fair the rate at which men and women killed each other rose sharply throughout the nation but especially in Chicago, where police found themselves without the manpower or expertise to manage the volume. In the first six months of 1892 the city experienced nearly eight hundred homicides. Four a day. Most were prosaic, arising from robbery, argument, or sexual jealousy. Men shot women, women shot men, and children shot each other by accident. But all this could be understood. Nothing like the Whitechapel killings had occurred. Jack the Ripper's five-murder spree in 1888 had defied explanation and captivated readers throughout America, who believed such a thing could not happen in their own hometowns.But things were changing. Everywhere one looked the boundary between the moral and the wicked seemed to be degrading. Elizabeth Cady Stanton argued in favor of divorce. Clarence Darrow advocated free love. A young woman named Borden killed her parents.And in Chicago a young handsome doctor stepped from a train, his surgical valise in hand. He entered a world of clamor, smoke, and steam, refulgent with the scents of murdered cattle and pigs. He found it to his liking.The letters came later, from the Cigrands, Williamses, Smythes, and untold others, addressed to that strange gloomy castle at Sixty-third and Wallace, pleading for the whereabouts of daughters and daughters' children.It was so easy to disappear, so easy to deny knowledge, so very easy in the smoke and din to mask that something dark had taken root.This was Chicago, on the eve of the greatest fair in history. Read more

The Arts: A Visual Encyclopedia (DK Children's Visual Encyclopedias)

About the Author DK was founded in London in 1974 and is now the world's leading illustrated reference publisher and part of Penguin Random House, formed on July 1, 2013. DK publishes highly visual, photographic nonfiction for adults and children. DK produces content for consumers in over 87 countries and in 62 languages, with offices in Delhi, London, Melbourne, Munich, New York, and Toronto. DK's aim is to inform, enrich, and entertain readers of all ages, and everything DK publishes, whether print or digital, embodies the unique DK design approach. DK brings unrivalled clarity to a wide range of topics with a unique combination of words and pictures, put together to spectacular effect. We have a reputation for innovation in design for both print and digital products.   Our adult range spans travel, including the award-winning DK Eyewitness Travel Guides, history, science, nature, sport, gardening, cookery, and parenting. DK’s extensive children’s list showcases a fantastic store of information for children, toddlers, and babies. DK covers everything from animals and the human body, to homework help and craft activities, together with an impressive list of licensing titles, including the bestselling LEGO® books. DK acts as the parent company for Alpha Books, publisher of the Idiot's Guides series and Prima Games, video gaming publishers, as well as the award-winning travel publisher, Rough Guides.

World of Reading: Avengers The New Team: Level 1

About the Author