“If one in six zombies will recover,” she said, now somewhat incredulous, “and is therefore now being killed unnecessarily by our forces, then that’s ...” “...a major war crime,” I completed her thought. “Yes, I think that was what I said the other day to anyone who cared to listen – before Dr Mengele had me silenced. Am I right?” Ingrid ignored my question – and the reference to ‘Dr Mengele’, her superior officer . “But this is simply appalling,” she continued. “If it’s true what you say, we are bombing, shooting and burning thousands of kids who would otherwise recover. Why didn’t you say anything about this at that first lecture, when you had the chance?” I raised my eyebrows at her in mild surprise. She had obviously stopped listening to me - both now and back then. I let it pass. “Cast your mind back to that lecture, doctor. Firstly, you may recall that I was rather rudely interrupted before I was able to finish my comments to the assembled troops ...” Ingrid cast her mind back – and nodded a sheepish concession to me. “ ... and, secondly, what exactly do you think our ‘military planners’ would do differently if they thought the ones who might survive were probably ‘just a bunch of poofters’ - or ‘faggots’, as the doughboys would call them. Ingrid nodded again – slowly this time. She understood what I was saying only too well. The armed forces of the 1970’s did not tolerate gays within their ranks – and the generals would have little care if some gays were ‘wasted’ as ‘collateral damage’. Official tolerance of gay personnel would have to wait until the 21st century. Maybe Ingrid herself was gay – I didn’t ask and was not told. (How ironic – in view of the US military policy which was to come, much later.) In any event, she fell silent for a time and we continued to sit opposite each other at that small wooden table in a stuffy interview room.
“Mars omwellha onan yntra hwegh an zombis,” yn-medh hi, nebes ankryjyk lemmyn, “hag ytho yma an rann na ow bos ledhys gans agan lu, henn yw ...” “...drog-ober breselyek meur.” My a worfennas hy thybyans. “Ya, henn o pyth esen ow leverel an jydh arall, dell grysav – dhe’n dus gans bern lowr a woslowes orthymm – kyns beuv gwrys tawesek gans Doktour Mengele. Ov vy ewn?” Ingrid a skonyas aswonn ow govynn – ha’m kampoellans a ‘Dhoktour Mengele’, hy ughella soedhek. “Mes hemm yw euthyk yn tien,” a besyas hi. “Mars yw gwir, an pyth re leversysta, yth eson ow thanbellenna, ow leski hag ow thenna war vilyow a yonkers a allsa omwellhe. Prag na leversysta neppyth a-dro dhe hemma dres an kynsa areth, pan esa chons dhiso jy?” My a sevis ow diwabrans, kynth o byghan ow marth. Yn apert, y hedhsa hi goslowes orthymm – y’n termyn hedhyw hag ena keffrys. My a erviras dh’y asa koedha. “Gwra dasvysytya an areth ma, ‘Dhoktour. Y’n kynsa le, gwra perthi kov ow bos goderrys, yn anhweg, kyns my dhe alloes gorfenna ow hampoellow dhe’n soudoryon ena omguntellys ...” Ingrid a dhasvysytas an areth yn hy brys – ha penndroppya, nebes methek, orthymm. “...hag, y’n nessa le, pyth a grysydh agan ‘towloryon vreselek’ dhe wul yn tihaval mar krysens an re a allsa treusvywya bos yn hwirhaval ‘bagas pouftas’ – po ‘faggots’ dell lavarsa an dowbois.” Ingrid a benndroppyas arta – yn lent an prys ma. Hi a gonvedhsa yn ta pyth esen ow leverel. Ny wodhevi luyow an blydhynnyow 1970 bos dus gethreythel y’ga mysk – ha na via bern vyth yn mysk an bennhembrynkysi mar pe ‘gwastyes’ nebes anedha dre ‘dhamaj keslinek’. Perthyans soedhek personnel kethreydhel, res bia gortos rag henna bys an kansblydhenn 21ves. Martesen Ingrid hy honan o kethreydhel – possybyl o. Ny wovynnis ha ny leveris hi yndella. (Ass o henna ironek – res polysi breselek governans an Statys Unys y’n termyn a dhothya, nebes diwettha.) Yn neb kas, hi a goedhas tawesek dres pols ha ni pesyes bos a’gan esedh dhe bub tu an voes vyghan ma yn stevell-geskows, meur hy kloster.langbot langbot