Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 50 — page 97: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION face. He had been blown up and then buried. The enemy had dug him out when they had been burying their own dead. “This one’s alive,’ the younger man had said when he came upon the crushed body. “One of them.” The ser- geant had spat onto the head of the living dead. ‘“‘Cover him up.” “Maybe if we take him out it will save us digging deeper,” the young man had replied. It was true; take the living enemy out and there would be room for the dead friend. The sergeant debated the point in his head. He was a heavy and slow man, beaten to stupidity by cruelty. They had dragged the Papa Jones from his grave and thrown him roughly to the side, Later, when they were finished with their task, they were tired and walked past him. The next day the young soldier had passed by and saw that Papa Jones had refused death. He lay on his side, unable to move, and only his eyes showed he still had feel- ing and breath. The soldier walked a little past and then came back. He looked down, wondering to himself that the body had not died. He stooped and picked him up, and that was how Papa Jones had been saved. ““TELL us a story,” one of the little girls asked. He nodded, — and lifting the lid of the desk he felt for the book. He took it out, fussed about polishing 96 his glasses, opened the pages and adjusted them very care- fully. He looked over his glasses at the attentive class of three. He wondered why he had stayed behind with them when he would rather have gone home and sat in his chair on the verandah. There was a bamboo table with worn edges upon which he stood his glass of lemon juice. When it was hot he liked to sit there on Sunday afternoons and sip his drink and not look at the book which lay on his knees. comicloooks.comn