Once Upon a Time in War is a photographic retrospect of the Great War, World War II, the Cold War, and the War on Terror ++about

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They marched for the sake of the march. They plodded along slowly, dumbly, leaning forward against the heat, unthinking, all blood and bone, simple grunts, soldiering with their legs, toiling up the hills and down into paddies and across the rivers and up again and down, just humping, one step and then the next and then another, but no volition, no will, because it was automatic, it was anatomy, and the war was entirely a matter of posture and carriage, the hump was everything, a kind of inertia, a kind of emptiness, a dullness of desire and intellect and conscience and hope and human sensibility. Their principles were their feet. Their calculations were biological. They had no sense of strategy or mission. They searched the villages without knowing what to look for, not caring, kicking over jars of rice, frisking children and old men, blowing tunnels, sometimes setting fires and sometimes not, then forming up and moving on to the next village, then other villages, where it would always be the same. They carried their own lives. The pressures were enormous.
The Things They Carried, Tim O’Brien

They marched for the sake of the march. They plodded along slowly, dumbly, leaning forward against the heat, unthinking, all blood and bone, simple grunts, soldiering with their legs, toiling up the hills and down into paddies and across the rivers and up again and down, just humping, one step and then the next and then another, but no volition, no will, because it was automatic, it was anatomy, and the war was entirely a matter of posture and carriage, the hump was everything, a kind of inertia, a kind of emptiness, a dullness of desire and intellect and conscience and hope and human sensibility. Their principles were their feet. Their calculations were biological. They had no sense of strategy or mission. They searched the villages without knowing what to look for, not caring, kicking over jars of rice, frisking children and old men, blowing tunnels, sometimes setting fires and sometimes not, then forming up and moving on to the next village, then other villages, where it would always be the same.

They carried their own lives. The pressures were enormous.

The Things They Carried, Tim O’Brien

/ July 03, 2011 / 76

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ANZAC troops catching some rest

ANZAC troops catching some rest

/ June 30, 2011 / 28

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The bodies of North Vietnamese Army (NVA) troops who attempted to hold the rubber plantation village of Binh Ba, are laid out in an open area so they can be checked for documents by the Australians before burial

The bodies of North Vietnamese Army (NVA) troops who attempted to hold the rubber plantation village of Binh Ba, are laid out in an open area so they can be checked for documents by the Australians before burial

/ June 30, 2011 / 23

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/ June 30, 2011 / 39

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Catholic communion being given to Australian gunners and American troops, Bien Hoa, 1965

Catholic communion being given to Australian gunners and American troops, Bien Hoa, 1965

/ June 30, 2011 / 31

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/ June 30, 2011 / 11

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Chaplain Ray Stachurski, a New Zealand Army’s Roman Catholic padre, administering the last rites.

Chaplain Ray Stachurski, a New Zealand Army’s Roman Catholic padre, administering the last rites.

/ June 30, 2011 / 15

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Troops of 1RAR move through paddy fields as American helicopters fly overhead after landing them during a typical search and destroy operation.

Troops of 1RAR move through paddy fields as American helicopters fly overhead after landing them during a typical search and destroy operation.

/ June 30, 2011 / 31

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David Birnbaum

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