My neck feels every gong as a chill. The traffic halts and the radio news has a wartime, childhood voice. Bong, An honourable war and simple politics. We sit in the car and absorb the rhetoric of peace. And I remember VE day, jiving with friendly Yanks, or sitting in the cinema applauding Russian tanks.
Dead bodies fill our telly screen.
For God was not the Commandant who set up Uncle Jo's Gulag or sent Emma Lazarus' children off to napalm gooks across Vietnam. We did it. The human ape, inheritor of planet earth, and from our power there's no escape.