大象传媒

This story was submitted to the 'People's War site' by Linda Firth of the County Heritage Team on behalf of Richard Bradshaw and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions

Modest old warrior, now you too are gone. In firm but gentle arms the angels have lifted you up to a better place where the guns are forever silent. Yet it was not long ago that you stood alone in pensive thought watching the sun light dance on the gentle lapping waves caressing GOLD beach. A sturdy walking stick supported your painful, arthritic limbs, and medals, proudly worn, softly clinked as you slowly turned to open the curtains of memory.
Through rheumy eyes you saw again a terrified young soldier wondering if he could ever hope to see his twentieth birthday. Seasick, wet and miserable, clutching a 303 rifle in trembling sweaty hands, you waited those last few moments, before wading ashore into the mouth of hell.
Destroyers, cruisers and battleships were raining down death from heavy guns, aircraft dashed about like angry hornets tearing apart ant-like infantrymen. Cries for help;the moans of the dying. Commands being shouted. Mines being tripped and turning men to offal, whilst German coastal strongholds poured a lethal spray of death into anything that moved. It was a symphony of utter madness. Good pals fell to left and right of you, yet still you came on. The utter terror that must have gripped your heart nobody who wasn't there can possibly imagine. That call of duty stripped away your youth and you were not found wanting.
In your declining years you often endured the sneers and unkind words of ignorant, disrespectful youths. Forgive them, old warrior. In our hearts we all know that you deserved so much better than the passing years have offered. Rest easy now, amongst your fallen comrades.

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