One summer afternoon Jacko dropped by to loan me a book. What he told me explains why war veterans rarely talk about what they’ve seen. His memories haunted him and now they haunt me.
I felt touched and saddened by the look on his face, the movements of his hands and the appreciation for the Americans on that day back in the 1970s. Here is Jacko’s story, as told to me in my kitchen one sunny, summer’s afternoon in Melbourne, Australia.
Our friend, Jacko, came to visit at lunch time and he was holding a book: ‘The Battle of Long Tan’. He placed it on my bench top and leaned against the wall oven in our kitchen with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, while I put the groceries away.
I paused to look at the book; it was about 15 x 25cm with a war painting on the cover – yuk! A tangle of soaking wet men…
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