Joseph Barna

I was knocked down by a shell. As I found myself laying on my back, the half-full flamethrower tank pinning me to the ground, a North Korean soldier came at me with his bayonet. In his quilted suit, he seemed to come out of nowhere. I can still see his face and smell the garlic on his breath. As he lunged at me, I was able to turn, but he stabbed my upper left arm with his bayonet. I had a double-barrel shotgun taped on the arm of my flamethrower...