EveningStar
01-21-2006, 09:06 PM
SWORD OF THE FIFTH PEVENSIE
The hardest thing about being in the RAF was not the icy terror of aerial combat. In fact, combat was a sort of relief when it came. The hours of waiting for that phone to ring...hours that might become days...those were what Shakespeare once called "the times that try mens' souls."
Sergeant Jack Pevensie was relatively lucky. He had opportunities that were denied some of his confederates because he was on the southern coast of England rather than off battling in North Africa like some of his old mates. He also felt lucky because he would rather face death in the vault of heaven than crowded in a stinking, wet, rat infested trench the way his father did back in 'seventeen'.
The wind from the coast was nonstop, and it made conditions inside Jack's tent bearable for sleep. Stretched out on his cot with his uniform on...it was never wise to be out of it more than necessary...he twitched in a fitful sleep.
On the other bunk, Sergeant Ted Dempsey leafed through a well-worn copy of Punch magazine. He tried to keep his humorous reaction down to a slight chuckle, but he needed a laugh to remind him that there were other emotions than rage and homesickness. Ted was distracted by the sounds in the bunk next to his. He sat the magazine down and glanced at the sweating, moaning pilot. "Bloody.... Not again?"
Ted got off the bunk and went across to Jack, shaking him. "Wake up. Hey, wake up, mate! Stop it!"
Jack Pevensie's eyes shot open and he raised up suddenly and forcefully. "Peter! Someone's trying to kill him!"
"Come out of it, lad! Shake it off, for Christ's sake!"
"Peter's in trouble! Peter's in..."
"In trouble? Come on now. Last night it was little Edward."
"Edmund," Jack repeated, still shaken but remembering where he was. "This time it was a sword fight. It was a battle, a battle full of horrible monsters. Peter was fighting the Lady in White. He needed me and I ..."
"You are in the 20th century fighting the Krauts. Come on now, I know you're boy is having to be the man of the family. You wonder if the lad is up to it. But between the Good Lord and your wife, he'll have all the help he needs. He'll make it, the way you made it when your old man..."
"...died?" Jack looked searchingly into Ted's eyes. "Do you know what my mother went through to make sure I had food on the table and put me through a good school? I didn't bloody well volunteer, Ted! I have four little children, and I swore to myself that I wouldn't leave them in the lurch the way..." He stopped, took in a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. "I didn't mean that. Nobody asks to die. My father wanted to come home as bad as the rest. Luck of the draw, I suppose. I'm not afraid of death, Teddy. I'm in right with the Man Upstairs and all, but ... I did my bit for God and King already. Why did they reactivate ME?"
"Just lucky, I guess," Sgt. Dempsey said bitterly. After an awkward moment he put his arm around Jack and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "You'll make it home. We both will. But if one of those Krauts nails you, I swear to God your kids won't do without. So you do what you have to do and everything will be all right."
Jack bit his lower lip and tears ran down his cheeks. "Same here, Ted. I'll take care of Martha and Alice for you."
"Shake on it," Ted said with a smile, grabbing Jack's hand in his own and squeezing tightly. "There now, never say..."
Just then the phone on the clerk's table rang. Jack and Ted did not wait for the siren to wail but grabbed for their boots immediately.
"Never say die," Jack muttered, a weak smile on his face. "Tally ho!"
The hardest thing about being in the RAF was not the icy terror of aerial combat. In fact, combat was a sort of relief when it came. The hours of waiting for that phone to ring...hours that might become days...those were what Shakespeare once called "the times that try mens' souls."
Sergeant Jack Pevensie was relatively lucky. He had opportunities that were denied some of his confederates because he was on the southern coast of England rather than off battling in North Africa like some of his old mates. He also felt lucky because he would rather face death in the vault of heaven than crowded in a stinking, wet, rat infested trench the way his father did back in 'seventeen'.
The wind from the coast was nonstop, and it made conditions inside Jack's tent bearable for sleep. Stretched out on his cot with his uniform on...it was never wise to be out of it more than necessary...he twitched in a fitful sleep.
On the other bunk, Sergeant Ted Dempsey leafed through a well-worn copy of Punch magazine. He tried to keep his humorous reaction down to a slight chuckle, but he needed a laugh to remind him that there were other emotions than rage and homesickness. Ted was distracted by the sounds in the bunk next to his. He sat the magazine down and glanced at the sweating, moaning pilot. "Bloody.... Not again?"
Ted got off the bunk and went across to Jack, shaking him. "Wake up. Hey, wake up, mate! Stop it!"
Jack Pevensie's eyes shot open and he raised up suddenly and forcefully. "Peter! Someone's trying to kill him!"
"Come out of it, lad! Shake it off, for Christ's sake!"
"Peter's in trouble! Peter's in..."
"In trouble? Come on now. Last night it was little Edward."
"Edmund," Jack repeated, still shaken but remembering where he was. "This time it was a sword fight. It was a battle, a battle full of horrible monsters. Peter was fighting the Lady in White. He needed me and I ..."
"You are in the 20th century fighting the Krauts. Come on now, I know you're boy is having to be the man of the family. You wonder if the lad is up to it. But between the Good Lord and your wife, he'll have all the help he needs. He'll make it, the way you made it when your old man..."
"...died?" Jack looked searchingly into Ted's eyes. "Do you know what my mother went through to make sure I had food on the table and put me through a good school? I didn't bloody well volunteer, Ted! I have four little children, and I swore to myself that I wouldn't leave them in the lurch the way..." He stopped, took in a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. "I didn't mean that. Nobody asks to die. My father wanted to come home as bad as the rest. Luck of the draw, I suppose. I'm not afraid of death, Teddy. I'm in right with the Man Upstairs and all, but ... I did my bit for God and King already. Why did they reactivate ME?"
"Just lucky, I guess," Sgt. Dempsey said bitterly. After an awkward moment he put his arm around Jack and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "You'll make it home. We both will. But if one of those Krauts nails you, I swear to God your kids won't do without. So you do what you have to do and everything will be all right."
Jack bit his lower lip and tears ran down his cheeks. "Same here, Ted. I'll take care of Martha and Alice for you."
"Shake on it," Ted said with a smile, grabbing Jack's hand in his own and squeezing tightly. "There now, never say..."
Just then the phone on the clerk's table rang. Jack and Ted did not wait for the siren to wail but grabbed for their boots immediately.
"Never say die," Jack muttered, a weak smile on his face. "Tally ho!"