DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Imagination, v. 1, issue2, whole no. 2, November 1937

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Imagination, v. 1, issue2, whole no. 2, November 1937

Page 9

IMAGINATION! #2 Nov 37     9

chinegun volley against advancing infantry. There was something curious about those soldiers beside their nebulosity: They approacht so deliberately, halting at times for no apparent reason; actd in selections as it were, without a word of command or a bugle blowing--& all in such an automatic accord."
The dark-skinnd Sgt. was emfatic about this: How the foggy foe moved woodenly yet competently & every  movement was executed with the precision of men on parade. He was a college graduate; & befor joining the army had been a newspaperman in Harlem & a feature-article writer: Perhaps the tendency to dramatize odd events was inate in him. --Yet others too commentd on this unique characteristic of the "Invincible Army" in action.
The faces of the foe were pale, indistinct (he noted thru fieldglasses); & even at the time, he said, he wonderd about it because soldiers' faces, the faces of men much in the open, are bronzed by exposure to weather.
"Their countenances were lite" he told "with the whiteness of those who work in offices or factorys.
"They came on; we fired; & then Hell broke loose! There was no stopping those tiny one-man tanks with machineguns. One of them upset in a ditch, that was all; & another must've had its gas supply toucht off by a bullet or handgrenade for it blew up & swervd & went in circles for a moment like a pinwheel. But the other tanks--& there must've been 100 of them in that firstline plunge--smasht thru our defenses, swishing bullets to rite & left. After that it was steel to steel with the ghostly grays, & things happened like they do in a nitemare--horribly, kaleidoscopicly: A fantom figure lunged at me with bayonet; I parryd the thrust & ran it thru with a twist to riflestock. I just had the impression the man seemd slightly insubstantial when something spongy hit me on the shoulder, hi up. I spun 1/2 way round but didn't fall. but the rifle slipt from my hands. I drew my automatic.

"All around me men reeld & fought. The din was deafening.
"I think we beat off that first attack of infantry but the strangely translucent tanks turnd & came back. Some them plowed thru our ranks parallel with the front. Then from above the everpresent planes loosed their deluge of death. After that I don't know. Blackness blotted me out with the first roar or aerial bombardment & it must have been hours later that I came to & crawld from under a pile of corpses. Those dead undoubtedly saved my life, since I later learnt the semi-solid soldiers callously slew the wounded.
"Under cover of nite I crept from the battlefield, managed to reach a house on the outskirts of tow--don't ask me how. Some people took me in & did for me what they could. Fortunately there was a medical student there with a surgeon's kit. Tho there were 3 bullet wounds in my body none of them were vital punctures; & as for the rest, well, I was young & healthy & so I lived."
Such was the story of the sole survivor of what is now known as the "Tucson Massacre". Yet curiously enuf the Negro narrator didn't mention what one would suppose the first curiosity to have arrested his attention. But Grene speaks of it in his bk
"THE MIST-ERYOUS".
Chapt 4:

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IMAGINATION! #2 Nov 37 9 chinegun volley against advancing infantry. There was something curious about those soldiers beside their nebulosity: They approacht so deliberately, halting at times for no apparent reason; actd in selections as it were, without a word of command or a bugle blowing--& all in such an automatic accord." The dark-skinnd Sgt. was emfatic about this: How the foggy foe moved woodenly yet competently & every movement was executed with the precision of men on parade. He was a college graduate; & befor joining the army had been a newspaperman in Harlem & a feature-article writer: Perhaps the tendency to dramatize odd events was inate in him. --Yet others too commentd on this unique characteristic of the "Invincible Army" in action. The faces of the foe were pale, indistinct (he noted thru fieldglasses); & even at the time, he said, he wonderd about it because soldiers' faces, the faces of men much in the open, are bronzed by exposure to weather. "Their countenances were lite" he told "with the whiteness of those who work in offices or factorys. "They came on; we fired; & then Hell broke loose! There was no stopping those tiny one-man tanks with machineguns. One of them upset in a ditch, that was all; & another must've had its gas supply toucht off by a bullet or handgrenade for it blew up & swervd & went in circles for a moment like a pinwheel. But the other tanks--& there must've been 100 of them in that firstline plunge--smasht thru our defenses, swishing bullets to rite & left. After that it was steel to steel with the ghostly grays, & things happened like they do in a nitemare--horribly, kaleidoscopicly: A fantom figure lunged at me with bayonet; I parryd the thrust & ran it thru with a twist to riflestock. I just had the impression the man seemd slightly insubstantial when something spongy hit me on the shoulder, hi up. I spun 1/2 way round but didn't fall. but the rifle slipt from my hands. I drew my automatic. "All around me men reeld & fought. The din was deafening. "I think we beat off that first attack of infantry but the strangely translucent tanks turnd & came back. Some them plowed thru our ranks parallel with the front. Then from above the everpresent planes loosed their deluge of death. After that I don't know. Blackness blotted me out with the first roar or aerial bombardment & it must have been hours later that I came to & crawld from under a pile of corpses. Those dead undoubtedly saved my life, since I later learnt the semi-solid soldiers callously slew the wounded. "Under cover of nite I crept from the battlefield, managed to reach a house on the outskirts of tow--don't ask me how. Some people took me in & did for me what they could. Fortunately there was a medical student there with a surgeon's kit. Tho there were 3 bullet wounds in my body none of them were vital punctures; & as for the rest, well, I was young & healthy & so I lived." Such was the story of the sole survivor of what is now known as the "Tucson Massacre". Yet curiously enuf the Negro narrator didn't mention what one would suppose the first curiosity to have arrested his attention. But Grene speaks of it in his bk "THE MIST-ERYOUS". Chapt 4: