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Shepperson Memorial


                         To make them give him information
                         On concepts, cults and copulation,
                         He does not like his fellow man,
                         And does the very best he can
                         To leave the awful folk at home
                         And in some far-off land to roam
                         Where he may find the noble savage
                         Ignobled by the white man’s ravage
                         Of gewgaws, guns and gonorrhoea.
                         And when he catches diarrhoea
                         Finds that he’s lots of time to sit
                         And ponder on the point of it.
                         And so this closely-closeted Crusoe
                         Parts company with Jean-Jacques Rousseau
                         In finding that the social contract
                         Has been replaced by culture contact.
















                  Lt. Shepperson in Burma with rifle in                                     George Shepperson attending a
                  hand guarding a ‘captured’ coconut, 1944.                             Burma Star Association VJ Day
                                                                                                   parade at Peterborough Cathedral.

                            During late August and early September 1944, at the age of twenty-two while
                                                                      th
                  serving in Burma as a platoon commander with the 13  (Nyasaland) Battalion of the
                  King’s African Rifles, George wrote two most prescient poems: The Japanese Dead at
                  Tamu, Burma, 1944 and The Buddhas at Tamu.
                         The latter and shorter of the two poems reads:

                  “O Burmese Buddha brooding still, though Time has proved
                         The Great Tormentor with his scourge of war:
                  Weep not, though ruins rise where you have ruminated.
                         So goes the world. The patient plan and purify;
                         Destroyers come and all things putrefy.
                  Your kind must conquer. You must heal their wounds and salve
                         Their sores; must prove the purger of the age-old pain.
                         Brood on, and breed and build, to bring forth bounty
                         Of power, and Time become a liberator
                  Of life and love, hope build on more than hope, and men
                  Reshape their world and ways and life bring forth its beauty.”

                         These poems were undoubtedly stimulated by the horror of bearing witness to
                  hundreds of dead Japanese soldiers at Tamu, some sprawled around the bases of the
                  aforementioned stone Buddhas, as if frozen in some final grotesque act of supplication.
                  In  a  note  accompanying  copies  of  these  poems,  which  George  distributed  to  a  few
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