Tuesday, July 10, 2012

WAR HERO


There are always certain events in one’s life that stick in your mind, no matter what your age at the time they occur. It’s true that our most memorable moments are those attached to heightened emotion, whether positive or negative, and I’m sure those who look back at the most impressionable events in their lives would agree. As for me, growing up as a small child in World War II, such memories became all too commonplace.  
One such instance was the last time I saw my cousin, Lesley Wright. A member of the RAF, Lesley had eagerly joined in the war effort in 1941, much to the dismay of my mother’s sister, Edie. Having been very close growing up, and having grown even closer after the loss of four brothers in World War I, my mother and Edie shared everything—and as a result our families had become like one. Lesley oftentimes looked to my mother for advice, and whenever he had the opportunity he’d come over to visit his “Aunt Nina” and spend time with me. He was really more of a big brother than a cousin, and in my eyes he was larger than life, a true soldier who I looked up to like no other. Even so, he was barely 19 the last time I saw him, and I was not quite 4.
I remember the morning well because I had been awakened by the ring of the telephone. Even at my young age, I was old enough to know that when the phone rang back then it was usually bad news. I lay still for a moment waiting to hear my mother’s voice when suddenly I realized it might be my father, who’d been away on assignment for several weeks. I jumped out of bed and raced for the door, hoping for a chance to speak with him. Instead I found my mother engaged in a rather terse conversation that ended with, “you know darn well you never need an invitation,” before she abruptly hung up the phone.
I stood silently in the doorway, looking up at her.
“Who was that Mum?”
She gazed down at me, ignoring my question. “Your breakfast is on the table, dear. Start to eat—I’ve work to do.”
I knew immediately that whoever it had been had upset her, and this was further confirmed as I sat and ate my breakfast toast and dripping, alone. I watched from the corner of my eye as my mother pulled out the bucket and scrubbing brush and started to scrub the floor on her hands and knees. Yes, definitely troubled about something, I thought. The only time mum does that is when she’s mad at dad. With my curiosity now piqued, I asked once more.
“Who was that on the phone, Mum?”
“Finish your breakfast, Ian.  Lesley’s going to be here in a moment.”
Well that was all I needed to hear! I scoffed my toast down and followed it up with a large swill of milky tea, all the while being ever so careful not to spill on the table. No sooner had I drained my cup when there was a knock at the front door. I leapt from my chair and ran to answer it, jumping as high as I could in my attempt to reach the door handle. Watching my gallant efforts, my mother pushed herself off her knees, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked over to pull open the door. Then, without expression, she turned and went back to the kitchen to return to her cleaning. I looked up to see my cousin Lesley standing in the doorway in full uniform. He looked down and smiled as he came inside and closed the door behind him. I immediately jumped on him, clinging to his legs as he attempted to step forward. He bent down and picked me up, threw me over his shoulder, and spun me around his neck before turning me over and placing me back on the ground.
His smile gradually faded as he looked toward the kitchen and called to my mother. “Aunt Nina.  I have only a few minutes.  Please, I have to report back soon…”
My mother slowly stood up, once more wiping her hands on her apron before walking toward us, her pace quickening as she got closer. She threw her arms around Lesley, burying her head in his chest as tears began streaming down the sides of her face. Moments later she stepped back, gently pushing him to arm’s length as she attempted to speak to him between broken sobs.
“Lesley, I’ll have no more of this nonsense talk. It’s not fair to me and it’s certainly not fair to your poor mother.”  Her hands were trembling and her voice quivered as she spoke. “You know what we’ve been through—our brothers taken from us—no God would take our children too!” She dabbed at her eyes with her apron and took a deep breath in an attempt to gain her composure. “Now, come. Sit with me a moment and let’s have a cup of tea.”
My stomach felt a bit queasy as I watched them make their way to the dining room table where they fell into deep conversation. My mother poured them both a cup of tea and Lesley called to me as I stood waiting. “Be with you in a moment, Ian—now go in the back room and play for a bit!”
I knew Lesley was true to his word, so I quickly went to my toy box and began lining up my soldiers in neat little rows whilst I waited for him. When it came time for him to leave he beckoned me to the hallway and bent down so we were face to face. He reached into his pocket and brought out a shiny silver tin; then he opened it up exposing a box of Chiclets and barley sugar candy neatly tucked inside.  He placed it in my hand. “I want you to have this. It’s from my escape pack.”
Now standing beside us, my mother snatched the tin from my hand and gave it directly back to him, her eyes once again welling with tears. “Don’t Lesley, you know you might need this.”
But Lesley would have none of it. He gently but firmly took the tin back from her, and bending down on one knee, handed it back to me.
“This is for you, Ian.” Lesley said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Now go and enjoy it and always remember this day. I want you to live your life as if I’m with you at all times.” He paused for a moment and glanced back at my mother, her trembling hand covering her mouth as she fought back tears. He turned back to me, his grip tightening. “Do these things for me and take care of your mum, okay?”
I nodded in agreement, but didn’t really know what to make of his words. He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “I love you, little chap,” he said quietly, before turning and making his way down the front steps. He stopped for a brief moment at the end of the walkway to wave back at us.
That was the last time I saw him. Two days later Lesley was killed during one of the Pathfinder raids over Germany. It was only years later that I learned he had come over to the house to say good-bye. He was the navigator on a Pathfinder conducting bombing raids over Germany, and although his crew had done more than the required number of runs, they had all volunteered for what was explained to them as a suicide mission. They had been instructed to say good-bye to their families and loved ones, all knowing they would not return.
I yearn to know Lesley now, as an adult—to talk to him man to man and to thank him for saving me, my family and countless others from the ravages of war. I will continue to live life as if he’s always with me, always giving me strength to go on no matter what the adversity. Lesley Wright will always be a part of me, and he will always be my true hero.

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