When the war ends, that part of what would eventually become Namibia (1990) and disputed parts of Southern Angola have been militarily ruled by South Africa for five years. The matter is brought to the attention of the League of Nations, and that body responds by issuing a Mandate Class C, not only giving South Africa permission to continue governing that part of Africa, but specifically ordering that country to do so.

A Class C Mandate from the League of Nations recognizes the governing body (South Africa) as a benevolent one, having improved conditions in German South-West Africa and declaring that the best course of action for the people of that region would be for South Africa to continue military rule for the foreseeable future.

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Dust settles onto the couch next to him. The dogs look up with wide eyes and tails tucked between their legs as one loud thump after another is felt more than heard through the thick concrete walls. The dead woman next to him slumps a little further over the armrest as a result of the trembling room around them.

He’s trying to grasp how it has come to this. In painful detail, he can recount every single blunder that has led up to this moment; decisions that he would never have otherwise made if he was not trying to fight enemies from within as well as those from without.

Another series of tremors shake the room and loosen more gray concrete dust that almost seems to twinkle as it floats lazily to the floor and furniture. The dogs are near panicked now. For them he feels a sudden burst of compassion, as though he does not want to prolong their emotional suffering. He takes the first one by the scruff of the neck and places the barrel of his pistol to the back of its head. The dog’s body jerks slightly and then goes limp, but the sudden crack of the weapon has frightened the other dog, and it retreats to a corner, whimpering. After a minute and a half of quiet beckoning in which the dog refuses to come to him, he raises his pistol and empties the cartridge into its wretched, yelping carcass.

Not to worry, he assures himself, for he has a spare cartridge in his pocket. He retrieves it and loads the pistol, then hesitates. All has gone quiet above. He lays the pistol on the cushion next to him and leans back, again contemplating the failures and rash decisions that have led to this moment. The bombs will begin falling again soon, followed by marching footsteps sometime after.

It is this particular aspect that fills him with rage. The bombs come from the west, but the marching feet will come from the east, and those attached to the marching feet would not have been kind to him. That is to say, they would not have allowed him to live but for a few days in which they would have gleefully tested his endurance for pain.

He does not intend to give them the satisfaction.