By Robert Conroy
The Civil warfare comes alive in all its ardour and fury–only now the Brits are struggling with . . . along the Confederacy
Outraged while the U.S. military seizes 3 Confederates aboard an English crusing send, Britain retaliates via getting into the fray in aid of the Rebels–and unexpectedly it’s a complete new war.
Once back, cotton is king because the North’s blockade crumbles ahead of the may possibly of the Royal military. whereas Lincoln confronts the enormous problem of vanquishing potent Britannia, the Redcoats revive their 1812 penchant for burning down American towns, and Union troops see Canada as ripe for the settling on. From the Mississippi bayou to the Pennsylvania farmlands to the woods of Maine, the good armies of Generals provide and Lee face off within the nation’s deadliest clash. And to the victor is going historical past
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Reprint. initially released: ny ; Braziller, 1959
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The classical texts? Exactly! They are now the rags of betrayal. I tear them to pieces: with these plucked pages I could cover my shame. They no longer nourish my militant decision, because my decision is now different: it’s a fury of clarity, a hatred of betrayal, a passion for common action. man: Ideology is a toad that spits venom: if it strikes your eyes, you will go blind. A legend, yes, for the toad, but not for ideology. Ideology: a transmitted knowledge, a vanguard knowledge, a knowledge only for the few, that claims to contain everything in itself and to bring the passion of the great many to fruition in its totality.
We speak of unity among the classes. The price of liberation is death . . A communist too, but another history begins. Of course, they still die—the whole history of my communist family is a litany of the dead. The discipline of the totality dissolves into the adherence to a cause in which freedom itself is its own light. Communism is not out there, in the promise of a radiant future, but here and now: it’s a construction that proclaims itself. chorus: (dreaming once again): There you have it, the new generation of those who don’t believe that communism is a utopia placed before them, but on the contrary a desire for themselves at its most profound.
You live within the contradiction. You tell me to act, but you ceaselessly insist on my solitude. Do you, you too, want to be my adversary? What must I do? You have not cleared it up for me. My friends, my comrades, you endure the same solitude as mine. Despair bends your knees, misery numbs the nerves of your brains. Your nakedness: you cover it like men and women who have sinned. But our misery does not deserve the sorrow of silence and shame, our nakedness is proud. I must do it. There, I put on my clothing, I cover my nakedness with explosives.