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Posted: reminds me of the time that me and my regiment got caught in the congo. it was a fierce, bitterly hot evening, and we'd been running from the local savages. suddenly, Darcy pulled free his bush knife and held it against his throat, screaming "i cant take it any more" in a crazed, maddened rage. the troops stopped. i had taken responsibilty for the boys for 2 weeks since our CO had been brutily mamed with a teaspoon in his own tent. i look him straight in the eyes. searching for the last glint of humanity that would be the last rope to pull the poor soul back to reality with. "i say, now just look here darcy, this is all rather un-English of you, so just you stop being so bally irritating, and get back in line with the rest of the lads."
as i finished the verbal beating that had boiled up inside me, i realised this wasn't going to be the last time i'd have to remind one of the chaps of the reality of it all.
with no way out
in this jungle
with no clean underwear
without the possability of the Times on Sunday crossword to keep one occupied