A Longer War 52

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CHAPTER 52
He took his leave, Susie still trembling as she sat open-mouthed. It was Charles who broke the silence.

“What have I been telling you, my dear? You must have faith. People are in the main decent”

Ernie called back “Aye, but arseholes, pardon my French, stick in the memory longer. Pete. Where we off to now?”

“Short trips, lads, Susie. Pegasus Bridge museum and a cuppa at the café”

Memories were rousing themselves as we drove: smashed gliders in a field, a small child staring blankly into space as lads tried to tempt her with chocolate or boiled sweets. We parked up, Pete in full tourist guide flow.

“After the war, they replaced the bridge, but the old one was preserved. The new one’s bigger, but they made it to look just about the same, and the café—what the fucking hell?”

I couldn’t see what he was staring at, just an old Centaur on a little ramp, and then it came into view as we walked back over the new bridge. The old building I remembered, with a huge Pegasus and rider painted over the door, was now matched by a newer building across the road, the Three Planers or something. Rodney muttered “Three Gliders” but that wasn’t the issue. Larger than life was some sort of plastic statue of a soldier, but it was a bloody Yank. Ernie tried to collar one of the waiters, but he just shrugged and walked away.

“What’s up, Gerald?”

“Statue, Susie. There were no Yanks over this way. Too many folk seem to want to write us out of war, gets a little annoying at times”

Ernie muttered something very rude before turning his back on the stupid toy soldier.

“See that tank, Susie?”

“Aye?”

“That’s not what we had. That’s a Centaur, different build. Liberty engine, not as quick, and that’s a CS gun”

“CS?”

“Close support. Ours were 75s, quick-firing. Shoot straight at things, especially with Ginge here in hot seat, but we could mix shot or shell. Er, armour-piercing for enemy tanks, like, or just HE, high explosive. That one could just lob shells”

He was fumbling at his waist for some reason, and suddenly bent forward, dropping his trousers and underpants to flash his naked backside at the Three Gliders. Calm as anything, he pulled them back up and as he fastened his belt said with a smile “Shall we see what their tea is like in the other place? Susie, close your gob, you’ll catch flies”

I pushed a giggling Maurice over the little crossing as bicycles crossed with us, and an elderly woman who seemed to be something more than a waitress just grinned as she served us what turned out to be a very decent pot of tea. I looked over at Ernie, still poker-faced, and quietly said “I’ve still got those photos of lads in wagon in Germany”

That finally cracked him up, and of course I had to explain to the others, especially about hiding from Mam the picture of a row of bare bums hanging over the side of a lorry that had caused so much amusement down the pub with Dad and Cyril and all the other old comrades, the boys who had also gone to see the elephant. Madame was back in a minute or two, and set out a tray of little glasses.

“Calvados, my friends. Our compliments and thanks”

Matthew picked up his glass, looking round our company.

“Gentlemen, and lady. To absent friends”

Maurice spoke up. “And to those yet present. Cheers!”

We drank, all except Ashley. I caught Pete’s eye, and he winked. “Managerial privilege, mate!”

We didn’t really go into the Big City, as we had thought of it in ’44, but bypassed Caen on a modern road. I began to recognise more and more of the terrain, especially a rise in the ground to the South East of the city.

“Pete?”

“Yes, Gerald?”

“How much time have you put into research on trip?”

“Er, did a bit of reading”

“Got a local map?”

“Yeah, hang on… Here you go”

It was from some French company called IGN, and it was more than detailed enough. He sat back with me as I worked out what was what, and then began calling out directions to his lad. We found a little lane, and left Ashley with the bus as Pete wheeled Maurice in his chair, and then we were there. It was a strange feeling, so little having really changed. The land was the same, of course, and the gate was new, but…

Susie was at my shoulder, Ernie beside her.

“I didn’t see much of this, Ginge, you know that”

“Aye, pal. Lucky so and so that you are”

I couldn’t ’speak for nearly five minutes, Susie taking my hand in as simple an act of love as I could ever have imagined. It was young Ashley who broke the mood.

“What’s this place, then?”

Rodney tried to soften his words, but it was clearly hard for him as well.

“Operation Goodwood, young man. See those fields down there? Imagine them ripe with wheat, the heat of summer, and rather a lot of our armour attacking through them”

“Like a charge sort of thing?”

“Like a charge sort of thing, yes. Where were they, Gerald?”

A slap on the back of my head, an instruction to do my fucking job, the sound of shot hitting glacis. Burning men. Pull it together, lad.

“Aye, Ashley, like a charge. Ernie and me, we were recon troop. Scouts, aye? Harry got us parked up not far from that gate. See trees? Germans were in there, and other side of gate as well. Tanks went in, Germans had a line of anti-tank guns. It were… It weren’t a good day”

He looked as if he had something more to say, but Ernie closed him down. “Tanks burn, son, and they’re hard to get out of”

I could see the realisation slowly hit him. “And you were up here…?”

“Aye, son. We got to watch”

“Shit. Not like the films, is it?”

Rodney sighed. “Never a truer word, young man. Gerald, perhaps, yes? Pastures new? Peter, where are we bound?”

“Well, we’re going back up towards the bridge, pay some respects, then I have a bit of a drive out to Rouen. Got a Formula One booked up. Cheap as chips, those places, but no frills”

Matthew roared. “We have all slept in far worse, dear boy! Mount, chaps! Start engines!”
Rodney peered at him. “Did you perchance acquire more of the local distillation, dear boy? Manners!”

Well, he had indeed found some Calvados, and sampled it, and I wasn’t that steady on my feet when we laid the wreaths Rodney had packed in yet another of his hampers. It took a little while to find the boys from the other troop who had been wiped out in that little action with 21st Panzer, but we found them, and Pete helped Maurice to his feet as Matthew set the poppies in place. Three steps back into our line, heads bowed as one until Maurice’s voice rang out as strongly as he could manage.

“Party! Ten-SHUN!”

Arms swung up as one, all save Rodney’s, and we held the salute for three seconds, our civilian friends standing quietly by.

Pete finished the driving for the day, and found us a simple place to eat that had a vegetable buffet that went well with the little bit of steak they cooked to our order, even if that cooking was a bit underdone, and I don’t remember much of the rest of the evening as we seemed to have disposed of a lot of bottles by the time I fell asleep. I think Susie put me to bed.

She was really chirpy the next morning, while in my turn I was glad that the breakfast was so Spartan. I really couldn’t have faced a fry-up, and the others weren’t much better. I raised a hand for attention as we supped rubbish tea or shudderingly strong coffee, and called for hush.

“Right, you lot. I think that should be it for a while. Yesterday were hard, but it’s not fair on young’uns here to get smashed every night. We’ve paid us respects. Time to show respect for friends”

Matthew looked a little ashamed, while Maurice was just green. Both doctors simply nodded, while Ernie tried as cheeky a grin as he could manage with his hangover.

“Aye! Happen better a clear head in bus, what with young Ashley’s driving! Where to, Pete?”

“Well, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover up to Denmark, and from what I gathered the krauts went backwards a bit quick after Falaise, so this morning we’re going to have a little bit of a tourist trip, a proper one, and then head past Paris. You don’t want to go there, do you?”

Susie perked up at that, but then shook her head. “We’ll save that one for another trip, like. This is pilgrimage, in way, not really a pleasure trip”

Pete nodded. “Aye, you’re right there. OK, this bit is a tourist bit, but let’s think of it as a mood lightener”

He drove us this time, perhaps in deference to our hangovers, and it was rather smoother than Ashley’s style, but I was still a little fragile. We headed SE from Rouen, and I had to stifle my own laughter as we passed through miles of wide-open and level fields. Julian looked across at me as I snorted.

“Penny for them, Gerald?”

“Oh, nowt really, just looking at this countryside and thinking how good it would be for tanks, and then catching myself and remembering how good it actually were!”

“Yes, but I rather believe I prefer its current mood, old boy”

I could find no argument with that. Pete turned off at last, and Susie gave an audible gasp before breaking into a wide grin.

“Pete, thank you!”

I frowned at her, puzzled.

“Oh Gerald! You’ll see!”

A place called Giverny it was, and of course I recognised the pictures that were reproduced all over the place, and Pete had it spot on yet again. We took our stroll in the water gardens that had so obsessed Monet, and it was the contrast that struck me as Susie went mad with her camera taking shots to mail to her mother, or maybe just for herself, and we stood in little groups just absorbing the peace, even with the crowds that seemed to be on a mission to walk every inch of the paths. I ended up beside Pete, and he nodded to me as I smiled my gratitude.

“Gerald, there are ways of coping with crap, and having a skin-full is sort of traditional”

“Aye. Been that way more than once”

Been that way for months was what I meant to say, those months lost after my love was taken away, but he understood my meaning without the need for more words and deeper pain.

“Pete… What this is, like, what this is is an idea of how the world can be, how it should be, aye? Without idiots”

He started to grin. “Yup, that’s the point, and I just thought that I should show you what a real painter can give the world, as opposed to a failed one!”

I actually hugged him. Susie was getting to me, it seemed.

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Comments

"Susie was getting to me, it seemed."

this chapter was full of feels. I'm glad you ended it on a higher note to bring a smile back to my face.

DogSig.png

"I just thought I would show you what a real painter......"

D. Eden's picture

"can give the world, as opposed to a failed one." A nice reference to Hitler's early aspirations to be a painter.

I too have seen the ugly side of the world, the seething anger and hatred, the violence that seems to be bred into many of the people of this world.

But I also have seen beauty amongst that ugliness. Sometimes it was in the smile of a young child, or the joy and laughter of a group of children when I joined them in an impromptu game of soccer amongst the bombed out and burned buildings of some small town in Iraq. And once it was a lone rose bush growing on the side of a road amongst burned out cars and military equipment.

I remember stopping to admire the roses, one of my security team complaining...my NCOIC telling him to keep his trap shut and "Let her look at the flowers. Don't you know that girls like pretty flowers?" He even cut one for me and hooked the stem into my LBE. I remember being upset later that day when it wilted from the heat.

Sometimes it's hard to remember that there is goodness everywhere - you must have to look a little harder.

It was things like that which kept me sane.

Dallas

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

I Think It's Hollywood

joannebarbarella's picture

Most of the movies about D-Day and after have been made by Americans, so that people forget (if they ever knew) that there were five beach-heads of which two were made by US forces(Omaha and Utah) and three were British or Canadian/British (Sword, Juno and Gold). It's understandable that non-Americans might get slightly pissed off by feeling that they are being overlooked when revisiting those towns and villages that they recaptured during the campaign.

Older French people do not forget.