They Laughed At His 'Varmint Gun' — Until He Stopped A Banzai Charge With One Clip

Transcript

At 2:15 a.m. on the midnight of August 1st, 1943, Private First Class Harry McMillan crouched in the mud of a newly dug foxhole on New Georgia, watching the impenetrable black wall of the jungle just 50 yards away. The air was a thick, wet blanket, smelling of decay, mildew, and the faint metallic tang of unspent ammunition. He wasn't watching for ... Read More