C. K. Stead

Later, lying on the lawn of the big house someone asked could we remove our jackets. No one had taken charge we were young officers and I took mine off. And then (or earlier) we were in the battle zone taking cover behind parked cars postboxes, phone booths and in abandoned trams when my friend took one full in the chest and went down without a word. “Way to go,” I thought and imagined the sniper reporting “I got one” and being doubted but I could have attested to it the perfect shot. And then the shelling and the strafing began. Later I wrote a report (I was good at that) and I remembered lying out on the lawn of the big house that was called “Mandalay” in the hot sun and Barry asking about our jackets and I removing mine and Ian saying “In the enemy army you could be shot for that.” The battle zone wasn’t always a city sometimes it was jungle where our first foes were mosquitoes who took our blood and flew away with it like bees, Barry joked taking pollen from the full flower of our youth.