That which gave me most uneasiness among these Maids of Honour, when my nurse carried me to visit them, was to see them use me without any manner of ceremony, like a creature who had no sort of consequence. For they would strip themselves to the skin, and put on their smocks in my presence, while I was placed on their toilet directly before their naked bodies; which I am sure to me was very far from being a tempting sight, or from giving me any emotions other than horror and disgust. Their skins appeared so course and uneven, so variously coloured, when I saw them near, with a mole here and there as broad as a trencher, and hairs hanging from it thicker than pack-threads, to say nothing concerning the rest of their persons. Neither did they at all scruple, while I was by, to discharge what they had drunk, to the quantity of at least two hogsheads, in a vessel that held three tuns. The handsomest among these Maids of Honour, a pleasant frolicsome girl of sixteen, would sometimes set me astride upon one of her nipples; with many other tricks, wherein the reader will excuse me for not being over particular.
I was aghast! What on earth was such filth doing in a school book? My sexual awareness at the time was miniscule, if not non-existent, but I sure knew what was and wasn’t disgusting.
Of course, only the first journey of Gulliver’s Travels—his voyage to Lilliput—is ever given to children. On the second voyage (to Brobdingnag), for instance, our hero is not giant but miniaturised and, amongst other dubious adventures while being carried about in a matchbox, he falls into the hands of the Maids of Honour who make him crawl naked over them and explore every part of their bare flesh. The young librarian plainly didn’t know that, and obtained the full version, complete with illustrations that gave the boys plenty to consider on days too wet for cricket or footy. As soon as Mrs Tully arrived, the volume disappeared immediately.
Next came a brief historical background which basically stated Vietnam had, for 600 years, been striving to conquer and dominate its neighbours. More than once, fine Cambodian civilisations had been overrun and destroyed by these war-hungry barbarians. There was a detailing of kings, cities and battles and a photograph of the devastated Anchor Wat. A good full-page photograph, which allowed me to again turn my page when Mr Demetre did.
For many years, in more recent times, the French had colonised the Indo-China region, helping these countries to develop and protecting them from each other and foreign invaders. There was much praise of the good works of the French in this regard—supplying the people with architecture, language, food, religion and generally saving them from their former barbaric ways. But in the Second World War the Japanese swept down and the French were forced to withdraw. At first, the Japanese received little resistance.
Then there arose in the north of the country a hero called Ho Chi Minh, who organised the population to fight the Japanese. His fighting force, called Viet Minh, achieved great success against the Japanese before the global war came to an end. The Japanese left in defeat, and the French returned. But by then, Ho Chi Minh had gained great power amongst his followers and greedily sought more. Taking the line of the evil Communist cause, Ho roused the people to strike out against the French benevolence and his forces, more familiar with and suited to the terrain than the French, struck from their northern strongholds using the cowardly hit-and-run tactics devised by the wicked Chinese dictator Mao. In 1954, the French suffered a massive defeat at a place called Dein Bein Phu, and their government decided to withdraw rather than risk further loss of life.
