Last month on the 21st of October my brother and I joined the British Royal military guard of George VI to suppress the Nazi Regime and to seek political and social justice. I was a young man of only seventeen and my approach to politics and religion at that time were scarcely practiced. In truth the spirit that inspired me had nothing to do with any noble factors whatsoever. There were no careful articulated reasoning that drove me to this conclusion nor was I a patriotic citizen that believed so strongly in the countries cause that I wanted to lay down my life for her. I was in fact a simple man of seventeen who only wanted his pockets worth from his society and granted the protection and service of her promises.
It did not surprise me then that after I have joined this particular cause as a result of ignorance and blind indifference that I had failed to meet her demanding expectations. Needless to say I share you this memory and I share it with you. My names is James Wyard and this my account of the incident in Cornwall.
The night was young and the church bells were screaming with laughter. The town of Cornwall was celebrating its annual festival with parades of bottled beer white lust and hard red liquor. The invitation was open to anyone and the teasing colors unbridled with her open arms was too good for the squad of 764.
“Come on lads. Hurry!”
What if we get caught? What if he finds out?”
Charlie’s trembling voice was humming through the air as David, Pascal and I were marching through the brown hazel thicket. Walking in agony, it was clear that Charlie’s expression radiated doubt.
Grabbing a nearby flower, David tossed a rose into Charlie’s arms. Pascal sniggered softly.
“What’s this for?” Charlie asked innocently.
“For someone special tonight.”
Laughing in our midst’s the four of us made our way across the hill and into the village. And as we entered the pub our mouths dropped. Beer. Endless amounts of creamy beer barreled in four corners making my head spin like a spinning top. There were all sorts and they came in different colors. Brown Ale, Lager, porter and stout and different kinds of wine that I had never tasted before. Without further a due the four of us leapt straight into line repeating three words simultaneously.
“A pint please.”
Grabbing a table a toast was made and our longing thirst was seeking to be satisfied in this very moment. As I toppled the empty glass I knew it was way too early to call it a night. To finish well was to finish drunk.
“Hey James, that girl in the red dress. She’s been looking at you all this time.”
Surprisingly but surely a young woman in her mid-twenties was staring at me with her eyebrows raised. Her dress was lightning red. Her lashes wide. Anyone could tell that she fitted the classical beauty of modern society and the look on her face that was fixated in my direction was more than a matter of mere interest. I smiled back and raised a glass.
“James do you want...