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Travelled through the Kabaw Valley, nicknamed Death Valley, and stopped in sight of a small river. Filled the water truck.

Darkness was falling. A water truck -pulled up.
There were two men. West Africans. They were desperate for water for their Regiment. It was too dark to fill up at the river.

Water is life, especially when scarce.
They were fellow soldiers.
And they had a charming and endearing way of chopping off the heads of the Japs and throwing them into the jungle, so that they would not go to their heaven.

Within a short time, in pitch darkness, there was a line of men emptying our wagon and filling theirs,

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