A raging tide

In 1968 a raging tide of youth, a raging tide of hot blood, a raging tide of innocence surged towards the countryside, the mountains, and the vast wildernesses. Not an eastward crusade, yet history was about to be written; not a mass migration, yet ten of thousands of households would taste the bitter fruit of parting; not a battlefield incursion, yet a volunteer arm, solemn and purposeful, was on the march.

Blood Red Sunset, Ma Bo



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