It took me a while to read his letter; he'd poured his soul onto the page. It also took time to fully understand the implications behind them. When my clamouring brain finally connected, I ran so fast I thought my lungs would burst. But by the time I reached the station he was gone.
I never saw him again. He sent more letters of course, much to my father's disgust. Dad wanted me to have nothing to do with a conscientious objector. But I continued to write to Stan anyway.
And then the letters stopped. It wasn't until many many years later I learned the full story. He'd died on Sword beach, with nothing to protect him but his beliefs and a small white arm band with a red cross on it. Difficult to see when you're a German gunner several hundred yards away.
So Stan, here I am, seventy years older while you're still a man of twenty-one. I brought you some flowers, I know you liked flowers. You always had the soul of a poet, but you were one of the bravest men I ever knew.
Good bye Stan. It's nice to be able to finally say that.
~~~
200 words that had to include the phrase "But by the time I reached the station he was gone."
Dedicated to the brave men and women who set ashore as part of the Normandy landings, both those who fought and those who had the conviction in their own beliefs not to fight but served as stretcher bearers. Rest in Peace.
Inspired in part by the wonderful old man in a BBC news item (see external link).
Conchie is WW2 slang for a Conscientious Objector.
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Short StoryREAD my SHORTS! ('cos eating them isn't very tasty) - A collection of very short stories, micro-fiction, one-shots, drabbles, flash-fiction and other random stuff. Call 'em what you will, they're bite size little morsels from the brain of me. Crossi...
