Scramble
By Melkur
- 807 reads
I keep her picture here, in my wallet. My American girl. Not so much a GI Jane as a filing clerk, who came in with the Yanks. There she is, in her uniform, smiling just for me. Beautiful. The others admire her, even as they tease me. Here in Kinloss, on the Moray Firth, we have to be ready at any time. When that siren pulls us out of bed, we have to be ready for Hitler.
There was a Cistercian monastery here, before the Reformation. We went walking in the ruins, and it was there I proposed to her. We’d only known each other a month, but you never know, with a war on… seize the moment! The evening light filtered through the Gothic window, red fingers lighting on her face. It made me think of the bars on a convent. We walked her little dog on the beach. I’d been to the jeweller’s in Elgin for the ring. It sparkled in the sunset as I put it on her, and kissed her. The red light fell over me too.
I live every day for her. She seems so happy. We are so happy. A quiet ceremony, next month, in December, in a small parish church in Elgin. My mother’s coming up from Aberdeen. I’ve booked my leave. Grand times, even if it’s just going to be two days in a cottage. We can go walking. Her little dog always needs walking, anyway.
I take out my wallet again. How did I get so lucky? I was just a librarian before the war, not much more than a clerk. So we have that in common. She was so natural, less reserve than one of our girls. I liked that about her: a straight-talker.
We sit smoking in the mess, waiting. Chess sets are out, card games abound, but everyone here is watching and waiting. Then it comes: the doleful hooting of the siren. Games are abandoned at a moment’s notice, cigarettes stubbed out in ashtrays, pipes emptied abruptly. I grab my harness at the door and buckle it on as I run towards the ‘kite’. I run towards her, towering above us like a castle. I am the pilot. I take my position, and prop her picture above the instruments. The others smile as we prepare for take-off. Nothing can separate her and me.
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Comments
An urgent sense of history
An urgent sense of history created here. Perhaps you could build on your characters a little?
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I really like this , I can
I really like this , I can almost picture the young smiling pilot and his lady waiting at home
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I really want to know.. Did
I really want to know.. Did they marry?
-pklg-
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