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Up high on the Khyber Pass 1948 *extract


*Dust on My Shoes / The Khyber
By mid-morning we had climbed one thousand feet above the snowline of a cruel mountain peak. On the summit we sat amid jagged rocks and gazed about us; on such a pinnacle the Devil must have stood when he showed Jesus the kingdom of the world. To the north and south was an unending panorama of jumbled hills, the troubled tribal territory which is the north-west frontier. To the north the hills fused into the Himalayas, to the south was inviolate Afridi country where no white man is ever allowed to go. East was Peshawar, down on the plains by the flooded silver curves of the Indus, joined by the Kabul River which flowed through the northern hills in a great gorge. And west was Afghanistan; one could see the black mountains and spires of rock rising sheer from the plains and valleys...