One evening, a few years ago, I was sitting in an army tent, playing cards with some fellows who had just returned from a tour in Bosnia.
Their tours dated from the early days of intervention, when things were still very grim and dangerous.
They coped with dark humour.
One of the rules they lived by was that as neutral forces, they were not allowed to recover or deal with any bodies of locals that they encountered.
This was partly for safety (booby traps and such) but partly because it might be seen as favouritism (or offensive, depending on how one viewed it) to bury one side's dead.
As a result, for months as they walked to work, they passed two bodies whom they were not allowed to respect by burying.
One was a man in a green shirt, the other was a body in the river.
So, as they walked to work, they'd give their greetings to "Bob" (the man in the river) and "Mr. Green", ask them how they were etc etc.