大象传媒

In the Spring of 1967 I moved into bedsit accommodation at No.6 St. Anne's Gardens, London NW3. In the time I was there I got to know the man who had the next room to mine. I only recall that his name was Mick. He was from Southern Ireland and was aged about 50. He was a good-natured fellow and would often knock on my door and allow me to share his breakfast. He was a man who kept himself to himself and was certainly not the boastful type. I still vividly recall that on one occasion he told me of his experience in World War Two. He stated that he had joined the British Army when war was declared. He was part of the British Expeditionary Force that was sent to France. During the Dunkirk evacuation he was one of those selected to remain in order to provide a covering outer ring for the evacuation of troops waiting on the beaches. He said that he had not slept for some three days. Finally, he could no longer stay awake. He recalled that when he eventually woke up he could feel something cold on the back of his neck. As he sat up he saw that he had been laying on the face of a dead British soldier. He stumbled out of the trench in which he had been sleeping to be confronted by what he described as a teenage German soldier with a fixed bayonet. He recalled that the young German soldier appeared to be so nervous that he could not stop his rifle shaking. Mick was taken prisoner and spent the rest of the war in a prison camp. He was selected by his co-detainees to act as their spokesman and was referred to as 'Paddy' by the camp commandant. What struck me as being so sad about Mick's story was what he said next. He said, "Looking back, If I had to live my life all over again, I'd tie a rock around my neck and jump in the [River] Thames laughing my head off." I never saw him again after I left the address in August 1967.

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