As the Communist guns that ring Quemoy fell silent, the shell-pocked island exploded into industrious activity. Farmers worked round the clock getting in a belated harvest; housewives, blinking happily at the unfamiliar sun, pounded away at the backlog of laundry that had built up during Communist barrages. Off Liao-lo Beach an endless parade of vessels, ranging from huge, wallowing LSDs down to motorized junks, disgorged the sinews of war—food, oil, ammunition, spanking-new U.S. -made 155-mm. howitzers and replacement tanks.
Busy bracing themselves for another siege, the soldiers and civilians of Quemoy...
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