I’ve recently been pestered by a couple of old and familiar ghosts which have wafted over here from Southeast Asia.  I thought that these spirits from the past were buried where I once left them, in the place where I served in the US Army as a young enlisted man, and ten years later as a humanitarian relief worker.  But it seems that I’m once again obliged to conjure up and scribble down the memories evoked from that patch of God’s green earth – a 30-kilometer swath of jungle and parched rice p...