By the roadside, a mile from Seoul, lay the frozen body of a barefooted little boy, face down in a tangled knot of abandoned telephone wire. Past his stiff, straight body moved a torrent of refugees, carrying whatever possessions they could balance on their heads or strap to their tired backs. Few glanced at the dead child; the sight was too common.
"They Just Don't Care." All week long before Seoul fell, the refugees poured day & night through the city, out across the Han River ice and south along frozen roads, railroad tracks and byways toward...
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