Phobia-Iraq-Love Trilogy Tale

22. A Fleeting Glimpse

Nothing.

Then - explosions, expansion, radiation, swirling gases, ferocious winds, veils of pinpricks of light, catastrophic gravitational collapses, scorching heat, thermonuclear reactions, stellar alchemy, supernova explosions, freezing ice, contraction and spectacular collisions. A tiny planet hurtled past through the blackness. Blue - flecked with white - placid and tranquil - a hint of brown and green. Life!

A billion or so years later the early morning silence that hung in the dimly lit corridors of the maternity ward was shattered. A newborn baby boy sucked air into its tiny, delicate lungs and screamed. A nurse, reading in the soft glow from a lamp at the main desk, look down the corridor towards the source of the commotion and smiled. The miracle of new life never diminished in its wonder she thought, before returning to her book.

The room was brightly lit with white light. A woman lay on her back, on starched sheets, panting and drenched in sweat. Her gown was pulled up above her waist, and a bloodied and slimy bundle rested on her stomach as the final link to the warmth and safety of the womb was severed. Total exhaustion was replaced with overwhelming joy with the realisation that the ordeal was over and as the magnitude of the event became apparent. Her face radiated utter fulfillment through the damp hair that clung to her face and shoulders.

The midwife wrapped the wrinkled little body in warm cloth and then handed the precious gift back to the mother so a unique bond could form as the helpless baby boy drew strength from an offered breast. The midwife paused at the door, as she retreated from the room, to glance back at the overjoyed couple looking proudly down at their new possession. Utterly dependent, the newborn, contentedly, settled into its new world with its face screwed up and its black eyes blinking in the glare of the bright lights.

A nurse stood by the wall quietly watching the events unfold. She turned and looked, with vague interest, out through the venetian blinds. The street, outside the small hospital, was splashed in light from a nearby street lamp and was deserted. Her mind wandered, and she deliberated, briefly, on what she would cook for her breakfast - kippers perhaps.

She slipped quietly from the room. The family, huddled around the hospital bed, was unaware of her departure.

The "Dopplerfied" scream of a jet-fighter plane echoed between the barren, windswept hills as it hugged the contours of the shallow pass and sped down the tussocky slopes towards the bay.

A young man sat huddled in a muddy trench blowing warm air into his cupped, frozen hands. He replaced his gloves and slapped his arms in an attempt to restore the flow of warm blood through his cold, aching body.

He followed the flight of the plane in awe. It was sleek, swift and deadly - a creature of intimidating beauty - and he was not surprised when he saw a flash of light under its wings and a long, black, pencil-shaped object streaked towards the harbour leaving a thin trail of white smoke. The plane abruptly turned and rose while the missile, within seconds, had penetrated the watery surface and sent a plume of white water, exploding, upwards into the air. The young man waited, expectantly, for the sound of the explosion, and when it finally came he turned and searched the sky for the jet-fighter, but it had already disappeared, safely, over the ridge.

The young man shivered, so he slapped and hugged his body again. He watched a group of small, black objects on the water making their way slowly towards a rocky beach. One altered its course to avoid the turbulent patch of water where the missile had struck. He could see movement in each of the landing craft. They had been discharged from a large ship that lay at anchor several hundred metres from the shore. Its grey paint work blended, drably, with the cold, stark environment.

As the young man surveyed the activities, taking place on the bay below him, his mind was drawn back to his homeland. Warm summer afternoons, soft sunlight, the gentle chink of Wedgwood at garden tea parties, good friends, laughter and leisurely conversations; it all seemed another life away compared with the nightmare he was presently forced to endure. He thought of his fianc\u00e9 and her tearful face on the morning of his departure down at Southampton Dock. It had been a heart wrenching farewell, but now there were only a handful of long, miserable days remaining before she would be in his arms again.