More Australians died in the months of fighting in Papua, than in any other campaign of World War II. Now bestselling author Peter FitzSimons tells the Kokoda story in a gripping, and moving, style for all Australians. Kokoda was a defining battle for Australia, where a small force of young, ill-equipped Australians engaged a highly experienced and hitherto unstoppable Japanese force on a narrow, precarious jungle track. Again and again, the outnumbered Australians risked everything to stop the Japanese from advancing along the track towards mainland Australia. Conditions on the track were hellish - rain was constant, the terrain close to inhospitable, food and ammunition supplies were practically non-existent and the men constantly battled malaria and dysentery, as well as the Japanese. The Australian troops were wounded and exhausted beyond belief, but always found that extra bit of spirit to fight on, with the help of the local people. Kokoda is a superb blend of authority and gripping storytelling-history at its best.

    This is his extraordinary story. His vivid inside view of a ruthless war on the Eastern Front gives a rare insight into the reality of the fighting and into the tactics and mentality of the Red Army's soldiers. In his own words, and with a remarkable clarity of recall, he describes what combat was like on the ground, face to face with a skilled, deadly and increasingly desperate enemy. The terrifying moments of action, the discomfort of existence at the front, the humorous moments, the absurdities and cruelties of army organization, and the sheer physical and psychological harshness of the campaign - all these aspects of a Soviet soldier's experience during the Great Patriotic War are brought dramatically to life in Mansur Abdulin's memoirs. Of special interest is the insight he offers into ordinary operations and daily life in the lower ranks of the Soviet army. As he tells his story he reveals much about the thinking of the men, their attitude to the war and their loyalties. He also sheds light on the tense relationships between the disparate national groups that were thrown together to create a huge fighting force. But most memorable are his honest, horrifying descriptions of combat, of being bombed and shelled, of trench warfare, of enduring tank attacks and friendly fire, and of coping with the wounded and the dead. The Author Mansur Gizzatulovich Abdulin was born a Tatar in Anzhero-Sudzhensk, near Tomsk in central Siberia, in 1923. He worked as a miner before volunteering to fight for the Red Army in June 1942. After completing his course at the Tashkent infantry school, he fought on the Stalingrad front, during the encirclement of the German 6th Army, participated in the bitter, decisive battle at Kursk and harried the Germans as they retreated across the Steppes to the banks of the Dnieper river where he was seriously wounded. After the war he returned to his work as a miner and he now lives in retirement at Novotroitsk near Orenburg in the Urals.

    I Will Bear Witness is a work of literature as well as a revelation of the day-by-day horror of the Nazi years.                           A Dresden Jew, a veteran of World War I, a man of letters and historian of great sophistication, Klemperer recognized the danger of Hitler as early as 1933. His diaries, written in secrecy, provide a vivid account of everyday life in Hitler's Germany.                          What makes this book so remarkable, aside from its literary distinction, is Klemperer's preoccupation with the thoughts and actions of ordinary Germans: Berger the greengrocer, who was given Klemperer's house ("anti-Hitlerist, but of course pleased at the good exchange"), the fishmonger, the baker, the much-visited dentist. All offer their thoughts and theories on the progress of the war: Will England hold out? Who listens to Goebbels? How much longer will it last?                          This symphony of voices is ordered by the brilliant, grumbling Klemperer, struggling to complete his work on eighteenth-century France while documenting the ever- tightening Nazi grip. He loses first his professorship and then his car, his phone, his house, even his typewriter, and is forced to move into a Jews' House (the last step before the camps), put his cat to death (Jews may not own pets), and suffer countless other indignities.                           Despite the danger his diaries would pose if discovered, Klemperer sees it as his duty to record events. "I continue to write," he notes in 1941 after a terrifying run-in with the police. "This is my heroics. I want to bear witness, precise witness, until the very end."   When a neighbor remarks that, in his isolation, Klemperer will not be able to cover the main events of the war, he writes: "It's not the big things that are important, but the everyday life of  tyranny, which may be forgotten. A thousand mosquito bites are worse than a blow on the head. I observe, I note, the mosquito bites."