Compelling Real-Life Dama with Chilling Predictions for the Future
Barnes & Noble.com
Perth (February 2007) – Former New Zealand police sergeant and Australian Protective Service Inspector Alan Greenhalgh has chronicled the amazing life story of concentration camp survivor Mike Josic, who as a young migrant struggled with his family to carve a new life in post war Perth. The Glass Half Full is an amazing account of one man’s life, his origins and his future. Written with all the excitement and suspense of a work of fiction, this book will undoubtedly find its way into the science fiction shelf of most bookstores, although it could equally fit into the genres of biographical works, metaphysics and spiritualism. Whether you choose or not to believe Mikes amazing revelations as to his true origins and his predictions for our planet’s future, there can be no doubt that he has led an incredible life packed with more than its share of adventure, pain, heartache, betrayal and triumph. His account of the horrific privations he suffered as a child prisoner in the vicious Nazi Jasenovac death camp and his family’s incredible escape and tortuous life journey as “new Australians” make compelling reading. His chilling incites into our planet’s future under the spectre of Global Warming, whether or not they are 100% accurate may not fall short of the mark and should be sufficient to motivate the most apathetic worshippers of the God of Consumerism into taking immediate action.
On 13 April 1941, the German army marched unopposed
across the Yugoslav border. The country’s hopelessly outnumbered
army immediately capitulated. Sensing the futility of further
bloodshed, the High Command surrendered although tens of
thousands refused to lay down their arms and went into hiding. The
King and his government fled the country leaving the populace to
glare angrily at the tanks and divisions of helmeted Nazi, Italian,
Hungarian and Bulgarian troops flooding the streets. The enemy
took over key buildings and installations and arrogantly seized any
dwelling that seemed suitable for their occupation.
During September the same year, after living a desperate life
in hiding, Filip slipped home through the enemy occupied streets,
desperate to see his loved ones. Although the visit was fleeting,
Svetlana discovered soon after that she was again pregnant.
Deprivation and suffering had ensured Metod and Tersja
were mature beyond their tender years. Tiny Metod already sensed
his importance as the only male in his father’s absence and
performed feats well beyond other children of his age.
It was just as well, for on 6th May 1942, the Sunichs had left
Svetlana and her children alone while they visited relatives. Caught
by the nightly curfew, they were unable to return before dark. It was
then that baby Felix with his curly, golden, hair and huge blue eyes,
could wait no longer to make his entry into the tumultuous world.
Svetlana’s labour began in the early hours of the morning. With
contractions occurring every few minutes, there was no time to call
for the midwife. Svetlana knew she needed help.
“Honey. Metod. Tersja Help me!” she screamed between
the agonising contractions. Spectacularly, her waters broke, flooding
the bed. The baby’s head was well down the birth canal as the three
children ran to their mother’s aid.
Fortunately, they were no stranger to the birthing process,
having witnessed the arrival of calves, lambs and goats on their
grandparent’s farm. Nevertheless, tiny Metod stared wide-eyed until
his sister began issuing instructions, calling for clean linen and
entreating him to fetch the large tub they used for bathing.
With a sudden, sloppy rush from between Svetlana’s legs, a
slippery bundle of humanity arrived. Honey quickly gathered it in
her arms. With maturity beyond her years, she tied and cut her new
brother’s umbilical cord. She cleaned the squalling, red-faced infant
carefully, wrapped him in a clean towel and laid him on her
Somewhat traumatised by the violent, bloody and obviously
painful arrival of little Felix, Metod, himself not much more than a
baby, aided his sister in cleaning away the mess. When Svetlana
began groaning again, Honey ushered him from the room, sparing
the little boy the grisly sight of the afterbirth.
Although Honey administered to her mother’s immediate
needs, Svetlana rose groggily from her bed later that morning to
resume her parental responsibilities. Her mother and father arrived
home a short time later to find the newly-born baby sleeping
peacefully in his cot.
Papa Sunich shook his head sadly, “How can they bring
children into this terrible world?” he asked his wife.
Before the war was over they would to ask that question
once more, for Hetna, the youngest Josic child was born in the
midst of the war on 9th November 1943.