David Green: dgreen@csu.edu.au

NO TIME: NO SPACE: NOTHING.

I did not cry when my father died, it was only later that I thought what his absence may have meant to my mother, what hole of emptiness was created, but at least his death was in his own bed. What colour is death black, red, blue, yellow, white? War and crucifixion are violent lonely deaths, screaming terror. Is death marked by no time, no space, nothingness?

Society's perception of the victorious returning soldier may be generalised as being one of marching bands, waving flags and dancing in the street. The hidden realities are far darker. No arms, no legs, no face, no voice, no sight; a head and trunk incapable of touching, complete and total sensory deprivation but still a mind capable of thought. Consider for awhile the endless frustration in attempting to communicate, closing your eyes and pretending is not enough.

Think of the endless stream of damaged men and women who wars have left as thinking bundles in boxes, chairs, hammocks, hidden away from our gaze, their silent screams unheard. Who cries for them when they die? A reality poignantly expressed in three short sentences by Andrei Makine.

" The authorities finally grew tired of all of those cripples on the square, their shouting and their brawling. But above all, they were giving the Great Victory a bad image. You see, people like a soldier either to be gallant and smiling or else dead on the field of honour." 1

I did not cry for my father when he died. I am sorry about that but at least he died in his bed.

1 Andrei Makine. translated by G.Strachan, Le Testament Français: Hodder & Stoughton UK.1997.