As a lawyer, Bill had spent his professional life ferreting out documents. He made some inquiries and dedicated eleven months to following where they led. Then one day, a boxed transcript arrived in the mail from Washington. The transcript contained the full proceedings of a trial establishing the fates of eight American airmen, Flyboys downed in water in the vicinity of Iwo Jima during World War II. Each was shot down during bombing runs against Chichi Jima, the next island north of Iwo Jima. Iwo Jima was coveted for its airstrips, Chichi Jima for its communications stations. Powerful short- and long wave receivers and transmitters atop Chichi's Mount Yoake and Mount Asahi were the critical communications links between Imperial Headquarters in Tokyo and Japanese troops in the Pacific. The radio stations had to be destroyed, the US military decided, and the Flyboys had been charged with doing so. A stack of papers my brother found in my dad's office closet after his death in 1994 had launched me on a quest to find my father's past. Now, on Bill's table, I was looking at the stack of papers that would become the first step in another journey. On the same day my father and his buddies raised that flag on Iwo lima, Flyboys were held prisoner just 150 miles away in Chichi Jima. But while everyone knows the famous Iwo Jima photo, no one knew the story of these eight Chichi Jima Flyboys. Nobody knew for a reason. For over two generations, the truth about their demise was kept secret. The US government decided the facts were so horrible that the families were never told. Over the decades, relatives of the airmen wrote letters and even traveled to Washington DC in search of the truth. Well-meaning bureaucrats turned them away with vague cover stories "All these years I had this nagging feeling these guys wanted their story told Bill said. Eight mothers had gone to their graves not knowing the fates of their lost sons. Sitting at Bill's table, I suddenly realized that now I know what the Flyboys mothers had never learned. I will be offering twice less the amount of points for this question. Please do not spam letters for points or you will be reported.​

Industrialization in europe changed the way people lived. the urban working class came into being, and with it came the drudgery of work. which two parts of this excerpt from franz kafka's the metamorphosis most closely reflect this impact of industrialization on people's lives? "what's happened to me? " he thought. it wasn't a dream. his room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. a collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table—samsa was a travelling salesman—and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. it showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer. gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad. "how about if i sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense," he thought, but that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state couldn't get into that position. however hard he threw himself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he was. he must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there that he had never felt before. "oh, no", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that i've chosen! travelling day in and day out. doing business like this takes much more effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of that there's the curse of travelling, worries about making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them. they can all go away! " he felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and saw that it was covered with lots of little white spots which he didn't know what to make of; and when he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold shudder. he slid back into his former position. "getting up early all the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. you've got to get enough sleep. other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. for instance, whenever i go back to the guest house during the morning to copy out the contract, these gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their breakfasts. i ought to just try that with my boss; i'd get kicked out on the spot. but who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me. if i didn't have my parents to think about i'd have given in my notice a long time ago, i'd have gone up to the boss and told him just what i think, tell him everything i would, let him know just what i feel."