“When I came to I was lying on a large raised platform together with several wounded Korean and Chinese soldiers. The bloke next to me was sitting up as if he was frozen into position, with his hands clasped about his knees. He was a blackish brown colour, the skin on his body so completely burned that only his eyes moved. Only napalm does that. It was only months ago that I’d held Bluey Walsh in my arms, ineffectually emptying a water bottle over his scorched body as he died. I recoiled inwardly at the horror of it happening to any human being. Despite my own condition, I felt deep sorrow for the poor bastard. I looked into his eyes but was forced to turn away-I could see the hatred for me in them. I felt ashamed and appalled that my side could do this to a fellow human being. He would have killed me, choked the life out of me, if he could have unclasped his blackened arms. Korea has left me with several recurring nightmares. Those accusing brown eyes watching me, never leaving me, is the one that still causes me to wake up sobbing.”
Bryce Courtenay, “Brother Fish”, 2004.
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