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Page 5

Pavle Radonic

Shy young British lads ill-at-ease under the eyes of the yellow people they were fighting in the jungle. (Like in Vietnam, identification of individuals was terribly difficult and resulted in numerous errors.) Weary lads here in the heat put off their tucker. There would have been drapes over the entry-ways to the cubicles at New Eastern, back in the day. 

One was reminded, too, of reports from other far-flung colonial outposts where the impressive, lordly newcomers in their smart uniforms and carrying glinting iron seemed some kind of superlative beings from the realms where the departed ancestors had journeyed. It was only when the men unzipped that the whisper went out of the shared humanity.

It was an insight that took some while longer on the other side.


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