Rudyard Kipling"
“When you're left wounded on Afganistan's plains and
the women come out to cut up what remains, Just roll to your rifle
and blow out your brains,
And go to your God like a soldier”
General Douglas MacArthur"
“We are not retreating. We are advancing in another direction.”
“It is fatal to enter any war without the will to win it.” “Old soldiers never die; they just fade away.
“The soldier, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and be the deepest wounds and scars of war.”
“May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't .” “The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his.
“Nobody ever defended, there is only attack and attack and attack some more.
“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.
The Soldier stood and faced God
Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining
Just as bright as his brass
"Step forward you Soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't
Because those of us who carry guns
Can't always be a saint."
I've had to work on Sundays
And at times my talk was tough,
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny
That wasn't mine to keep.
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep,
The Soldier squared his shoulders and said
And I never passed a cry for help
Though at times I shook with fear,
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here,
Lord, It needn't be so grand,
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was silence all around the throne
Where the saints had often trod
As the Soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
"Step forward now, you Soldier,
You've borne your burden well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."
For months the bush telegraph of Brunei had flashed the warning that deep inside the Delaware-size oil-rich British protectorate on the north coast of Borneo, a secret rebel army was rehearsing a revolt against the Sultan.Repeatedly, government officials dismissed the story as "another jungle rumor." But last week, in a brief, bloody rebellion, rumor materialized into fact, bringing the threat of a long, nasty guerrilla war in the steaming swamps and forests of the protectorate, and imperiling the prospects of the Malaysian Federation.
An unidentified Iban tracker attached to D Company, 3rd Battalion, The Royal Australian Regiment (3RAR), showing off his tattooed back at the old camp at Bau, Sarawak.
Major cause of the revolt, it seemed, was the federation plan itself. Brunei's dominant, fiercely independent People's Party was dead against the alignment of the state with Malaya, Singapore, and the neighboring British possessions of Sarawak and North Borneo. Instead, People's Party Leader A. M. Azahari. 34, a goateed veterinarian, was determined to weld Brunei, Sarawak and North Borneo into a single independent nation. But the British-backed Sultan of Brunei, Sir Omar Ali Saifuddin. wanted to join Malaysia, for Brunei's oil resources, which yield him $40 million annually, promised him influence in the federation disproportionate to his country's size and minuscule population (85,000). Stymied by the Sultan, Azahari's rebels finally attacked.
In the predawn darkness, the ragtag irregulars set up roadblocks, sabotaged communications lines, and overran police stations all over the country. In the town of Seria, Shell Oil's Brunei headquarters, the rebels rounded up 55 hostages, formed them into a human shield, and marched them to a nearby police barracks. But when the police fired on the shield, both prisoners and rebels broke and ran.
Message from Manila. Caught by surprise, colonial authorities flashed word of the emergency to British headquarters in Singapore, sent messengers canoeing up jungle streams with sticks bearing red feathers—a traditional appeal for armed assistance from loyal warriors of the interior. Eluding rebel kidnapers, and nervously fingering a Sterling submachine gun, the Sultan escaped to a police station.
The shooting had hardly begun when Rebel Chieftain Azahari turned up in Manila, of all places, to make sure the world press got the full story. Amid a blizzard of statements, he proclaimed himself Prime Minister of the "unitary state of North Borneo," and demanded support for his rebellion from world leaders. The only encouragement came from Indonesia's Sukarno, who has long coveted Brunei's oilfields and would like nothing more than to absorb the protectorate into Indonesian Borneo.
But the end was near for the rebels, for British troops began pouring into Brunei by air. Hawker Hunter jets of the R.A.F. buzzed low over rebel emplacements firing blank 20-mm. cannon shells; many rebel troops fled in terror because they had never before heard the shriek of a jet engine. Other rebels fought on, inflicted substantial casualties on Britain's tough little Gurkha troops. The Gurkhas retaliated by lopping off a few rebel heads. Finally British numbers began to tell and the rebels faded away into the jungle. Continued here....
