1918
MARCH; TOM IS SITTING BY the French windows with the doors open; It is still cold, the winter being a bad one. Some birds are starting to come out even though there are few leaves on the tress and bushes. He listens to the birds quite intently; these are sounds he hadn’t heard for a while. In fact, he has never paid attention to bird song before and he realises how beautiful the noise is. He thinks it rotten that this is something positive to come out of the war, which he thinks, is still going on and those men are suffering. He wants to be angry inside but he can’t as the bird song soothes him, he loves the twitter of whatever it was in the bush. Perhaps now he has time on his hands he can learn the types of birds.
A nurse comes over.
“Mister Lane, aren’t you cold by the window? Here let me close the door”
Tom put up an arm “no, I’m all right, really I am”
“Well, if you want to catch your death of cold…”
“No, I’m fine. It’s soothing to be by the window”
A doctor comes over with a clipboard
“Ah, Mister Lane. Diagnosis shows that you are well enough to go home”
“Really?”
“Yes. But you must be careful. Your lungs are still in a poor state, you need to keep in touch with your doctor but you’re all clear to go home”
“When do I leave?”
“Tomorrow”
Tom gets dressed in a suit provided for him although it’s not quite the perfect fit but it will do. Or is it that his body has changed? He was always thin but now he seems different, he looks at himself in the full length mirror. He smoothes the creases in the jacket, then steps closer to have a look at his face. He seems older. Much older than the nearly twenty eight he is, looks more like thirty eight. He steps back and runs his hands down the lapels of his jacket but stops when he gets to his breast pocket. He puts his hand there and tries to feel for something then realises that neither the watch nor the picture of Ellen are there.
He picks up his small suitcase also provided for him although he doesn’t have much to take home. He walks into the ward and says his goodbyes to everyone.
“Goodbye Tom” they say
Tom replies back with a goodbye.
Fred says “you keep in touch like. I’ll hobble your way soon”
“Yes, you look after your self Fred”
“And you make sure that little Ivy grows up fine”
“Yes I will thank you”
He walks out the door with a cough or two. Walking away from the hospital front, he turns and looks at the old building.
“I hope you all get better” he says to himself, then turns and walks.
Ellen is waiting on the platform of Waterloo station while the engine slowly pulls in and stops with a squeal. Steam fills the air but she can see the doors opening and people getting out of the carriages. She holds up the letter she received from Tom telling her that he will be coming home today. A guard walks along closing doors that are left open then blows his whistle, the train starts puffing and slowly pulls out of the station. More steam stills fills the air even though the platform has been cleared of passengers, she hangs her head. Suddenly from somewhere in the steam cloud, she hears a cough, then some wheezing, she looks up and a shadowy figure is standing there. The steam has started to clear a bit and figure becomes more recognisable. It’s Tom! She runs towards him and throws her arms around his neck at which point he starts wheezing and coughing.
“Tom, are you alright?”
He calms down then says “yes, I’m fine. Couldn’t be better”
She looks at him and says nothing
“Come on then, I’m dying for a cup of tea” he says
He picks up his suitcase and they walk off together to catch the train to Queens Park.
Off the train at Queens Park both walk out of the station but further down the road Tom has to stop and put his suitcase down on the floor.
“What’s up love?”
He wheezes “The suitcase gets a bit heavy after a while. I’ll be alright in a bit”
Ellen picks up the suitcase and carries it “come on soldier”
An older man walks in the opposite direction and turns to Tom and says “you heartless beast, letting a woman carry heavy items. You should be carrying it for her”
Before Tom can speak Ellen quickly butt in “do you mind? My Tom is the victim of a gas attack. He’s a war hero”
The chap gave a cough and a mumbled “sorry” before moving on.
They walk past the butchers which was empty. The window has been boarded up.
“Oh, so the butchers have moved out” notices Tom
“Yes, they moved away” replies Ellen. They both walk slowly on.
Tom sits at the kitchen table while Ellen is cooking the dinner.
“Hey, it’s nice to be home again” he says, he is still a bit wheezy.
“Are you sure you’re alright? I mean you still have that chesty cough” she replies. As she draws the roast out of the oven, she put two house bricks in.
“Oh I’m fine” he says although he is sure Ellen isn’t convinced. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be right as rain soon, you see”
They sit down to eat.
“Ooh, you don’t know how good this tastes to me. Months of bully beef and jam, then hospital food….” he inserts a mouthful of food “…mmm!”
They carry on eating in silence, Ellen wants to ask what happened at the Front but daren’t.
Tom eventually says “they want me to go for a medical next week to see if I’m fit to return”
Ellen put her cutlery down quickly “what, the army?”
“Yes, they’ll put me back on duty”
“They’re going to send you back to France?”
He wants to correct her. It isn’t France, it’s Belgium. But he thinks never mind, most people refer to the entire Front as France.
“No, I won’t be going back to the Front. I won’t be fit enough; they’ll just put me on some light duties. I signed up and it was for four years”
Disheartened, Ellen picks up her cutlery and carries on eating.
After dinner the bricks are brought out of the oven and wrapped in cloth. Each brick is put in each side of the bed to warm it up, because although it is March, the cold winter is still here. The two sit in chairs opposite each other.
“Where’s Ivy then?” asks Tom
“She’s with my mother. She’ll be round tomorrow morning”
“You know, I could do with a swift half”
“Tom! You are not going down the pub! Not in your condition”
“I know, I won’t go down. But there are certain things I have missed”
“Yes, like beer. I think you should stay home more often, help me with Ivy”
“I’d like to see my friends though; I should imagine there’s not many of them left”
“You should see your parents; I think they’ve missed you”
“What, me sour old mother!”
“Tom! She’s your mother!”
“I know, I only jest. I certainly have to see how my father’s doing”
“Oh yes, he’s doing well. You’d never have thought he was gassed looking at him”
“And to think, I got it worse…”
Tom stops.
“Yes, it would be nice to see the family”
It isn’t long before he does go down the pub to see what few friends are left.
“Those Germans should be made to pay” says Patrick
“What they did makes me sick” continues Arthur
“Yeah, too right. Bayonetting babies and all that” says Fred
Tom cut in “excuse me, but they are people just like us”
“What, are you mad? They took us to war” replies a near angry Arthur
“Yes, and they destroyed lives. They’re monsters!” says Patrick
Tom replies to their accusations “I saw Germans out there in Flanders. Of course the people at the top started the war, but the average soldiers were just like us. They were shot at like us, they had families like us, they were blown to bits like us and they certainly didn’t bayonet babies. They had no control over the war. We were just puppets for the leaders to play with. I’m sure those soldiers will be suffering in the same way as the soldiers over here. They are just people”.
“You’re not on their side are you?” demands Arthur
“Yes, you sticking up for the enemy?” continues Patrick
“Nooo! I’m just saying that those soldiers had to fight in the same way we did. I’m proud I fought for my country, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I went over there…..but the carnage. So many people were slaughtered on both sides, needlessly”
“Ye-es” urges Fred
“Look, if you looked into the eyes of a dead man, I’m sure you would be affected by it, whoever they were. I saw those Germans and they were scared like us. They just wanted to go home like us. And like us, they saw their comrades blown to smithereens”
“Sorry Tom”
“Many more men will die before the guns fall silent, and at this rate it’ll probably go on for another few years, it’s totally pointless”
The group sit thoughtful for a moment. Fred pipes up “I’ll be glad when this war is over”
“Amen to that” and they all raises their glasses and take a gulp of their beer.
“Here, can you still play the piano?” asks Fred
“Of course” Tom replies. And with that he goes over to the piano, lifts up the lid, sits down and plays. Within a few bars, people crowd round and start to sing.
The next month, Tom has returned to army duties but is now down at Regents Park. The area has been converted to a depot with large military tents on the grass. He walks around with his clipboard checking supplies; a lot of the men here are from the Front with minor injuries including Bill with his missing finger. With injuries just like himself although, he thinks, there’s nothing minor about being gassed or shot. Still, these are injuries that aren’t life threatening but the men with them would not be fit enough to fight, and would even be a danger to their comrades. Tom can hear the birds in the aviary at London Zoo, it was pleasant. He feels good at being home but at the same time, feels a twinge of guilt of not being there to help out his mates. Still, as the officer in the hospital said, he is still helping the war effort.
It is a fine sunny morning but a little chilly. He gets the usual bus to work and picks up his clipboard and stops when he notices the headline in the newspaper that is lying on a table. All he sees is the word ‘Passchendaele’. He picks up the newspaper and can’t believe his eyes. He goes to say something but just slumps into the nearby chair. He is gasping and wheezing, other soldiers rush to him.
“Tom, what’s the matter?” asks Bill
“Slow down, ease your breathing…that’s it… slowly now”
The soldiers eventually calm him down although he looks close to tears but doesn’t cry.
“Now…what’s up” asks Bill
Tom points to the newspaper; the soldier picks it up and reads the headline. He turns the newspaper round for all to see.
“Germans take Passchendaele” Bill reads out the headline
“What was it all for?” Tom eventually speaks “I mean, why did we get our injuries if it was all for nothing?”
“Easy Tom” reassures Bill
“I got gassed at Passchendaele, for what? And they let the Germans take it back?”
He grabs the newspaper and throws it on the floor. The soldiers mill around until an officer comes in “come on you lot, back to work”
The soldiers saunter off and Tom slowly gets up and picks up his clipboard, with a heavy weight on his shoulders. The officer can sympathize with him but everyone has a job to do.
November the eleventh, Armistice Day and the news spread that the war has ended. The streets are filled with joyous people. Someone knocks at the door, “are you coming out then Tom?”
“No” he replies “I’d rather stay in”
He closes the door and walks back in. “what’s the matter Tom?” asks Ellen “don’t you want to celebrate?”
“No” he says
“But the war’s ended; I thought you would be pleased?”
“No I’m not”
“But..?”
He looks at his wife and says “how many people have died? Too many that’s what. If you had seen the things I have seen, then you wouldn’t be celebrating either”.