Carter's Last Mission: Operation Restoration
~HH~ Leticia
Leticia could not believe her eyes. In a way, she hoped it was her old friend, and yet, he looked so different, so…beaten, so—down. She hoped she was mistaken. As she drew closer in the smoky atmosphere of the pub, her heart sank, as she knew her first impression had been right. She could never forget those beautiful, talented hands...though now they were gnarled and twisted with age, and perhaps—by some past insult? He still held his cigarette the same way, though his fingers were bent, she could see he tamped the ash in exactly the same careless manner. Oh, how she loved those hands…
In his other hand he held a telegram. She watched him put out his cigarette and just play with the envelope. He was obviously reluctant to open it. Leticia knew she should turn away, allow him his privacy. Telegrams, in her experience, and at their age, never bore good news. But somehow, she could not. After all these years, completely by chance, she had stumbled across one of her last remaining friends, and she was not willing to lose him now. Especially if that telegram contained the news she suspected it might. If it did, she realized she had a decision to make. Turn and walk away now, before he saw her; or go to him, so that he would not be completely alone. Either way, she knew it would a decision that would affect the rest of her life.
Her heart beating wildly, Leticia watched her former lover and thought back to their last meeting on a dark road in Germany so many years ago…and the question he had asked her.
~HH~ Peter
As he lit his last cigarette that evening, he had that feeling again. It had been gnawing at him for days now. He hadn't heard from him in a long time, and he didn't know what he'd do if he never heard from him again. He knew it was selfish…he'd been sick for so long, but still, damnit, he didn't want to be alone again; the way he had been as a kid, before the war. Oh, sure, there had been plenty of people around, but he had always been alone. He had never allowed anyone close; because getting close to anyone only meant that they'd either leave him, die on him or hurt him, or some combination of the three. So he stayed to himself as much as he could when he wasn't fighting to survive.
But then it all changed in a most unexpected way. He met his brothers in a godforsaken, rat-infested POW camp in Germany. And his life took on meaning again. He was important. His skills made a difference—he made a difference. He had a reason to get up in the morning; to feel proud. And he did. For over three long years, he was part of Papa Bear's team. It was the best, and the hardest thing, he ever did in his life. The amazing thing was that it was his choice to stay. He could have gone to the guv, and asked to leave anytime, and with no hard feelings, Col. Hogan would have sent him safely back to London.
He shook himself out of his memories. His hands trembled as he stared at the envelope in his hands. He really didn't want to open it. He looked up at his barkeep, who was just coming from waiting on a customer down at the other end of the bar. "Tris, a gin, mate—make it a double."
~HH~ Tris
Tris smiled, but he was concerned. "Sure, Boss." He poured the drink, and stepped back down the bar, watching the older man, careful to mask his observation. He knew well that if his employer caught him staring there would be hell to pay, and he liked his job here at the Cap and Crown. He liked the crusty old war veteran, and enjoyed listening to the stories of the man's life and many adventures, when he chose to tell them. He knew too, that he had been depressed lately. He knew that it had a lot to do with the WWII display in the back of the pub, where his boss had put various items on display. Included were some photographs from his time in Stalag 13. Enlargements of each of his closest friends were displayed as well, and over the last few years, black ribbons had solemnly appeared over each of them, save for one.
After he had placed the ribbon on the next to last photograph, the boss had charged Tris with dusting and cleaning the display area. He no longer could bear to enter the area. Tris understood. A man can only take so much heartache. He was very careful with each item. But he did wonder about a few of the items…what did a coffeepot have to do with anything? Also, a pack of cigarettes, and a lady's black dress and pearl necklace? But he had been strictly warned not to touch the items, and since they were behind glass, he would just have to be content. Maybe the boss would be in a mood to enlighten him one day…
This brought Tris to another uncomfortable thought…someday, shouldn't the boss's portrait be up there too? He quickly decided that was definitely a topic for another day.
His attention was suddenly brought back by a sharp gasp from the boss…
~HH~ Peter
He had finally opened the telegram, and though at first he had not had the courage to read the words themselves, the sender's name at the bottom was all he needed to see to know. Patricia Carter, Andrew's daughter.
He was gone. His best mate of fifty-odd years was…gone. As the tears began to fall, he saw Tris start to approach and he waved him quickly away. He simply couldn't bear the younger man right now. He was the last of the Unsung Heroes, and though he had long suspected this would be the case, just because he was the next to youngest, and Andrew's lungs had been so damaged by chemicals, explosive dust and several severe bouts of pneumonia during the war, it still hurt desperately now that it was fact.
He finally studied the words in the telegram. They were devastating in their finality, and yet touching in the fact that Andrew's last words had apparently been for him…
UNCLE PETER STOP DAD LAST FLIGHT 0533 16OCT STOP REPORTED READY FOR NEXT MISSION STOP WILL PROVIDE MAJOR DIVERSION AT GATE STOP BRING LOCK PICKS STOP ANDREW STOP LOVE PATRICIA
Even as the tears streamed down his face he had to laugh. Andrew knew his best friend had lost his faith years ago, had given up completely on God when the one woman he had truly loved had disappeared in Germany without a trace, just one more loss in a long string of losses for the young RAF corporal.
At the time, Andrew had tried to comfort him by telling him, "You never know, Peter. Someday, when you least expect it, you just might run into her again."
Newkirk remembered he had gotten very irritated with Andrew's naiveté "Blimey, mate, do you know what happened on that road the last time I saw her? I proposed, that's what! For after the war!"
All his friends had stared at him in shock, and he had turned away from them, miserable. He had proposed, and Leticia had promised to give him her answer the next time she saw him; only the fact was, she had turned and run away from him and he never saw her again. She was one of their Underground contacts, and they had heard a noise, so they had both hurried away. He had not even had a chance to kiss her again. And she was gone. Just like everyone else.
A rare conversation about death between Newkirk and Carter at Stalag 13 flitted through his mind. Carter had nearly blown himself to Kingdom Come, and Newkirk was yelling at him about it after Carter had regained consciousness. Carter listened serenely for a while, and then finally interrupted with a wave of his hand.
"Peter, stop. I'm okay. And even if I wasn't, I know I'm going to heaven when I die, so don't worry so much. You're the one I worry about."
Newkirk's eyes glittered dangerously. "Don't start on me, mate. You know why."
Carter smiled gently. "I know, and I understand, buddy. But, listen. Remember Leticia? I gotta feeling God knows you need her. And no matter what you say, me and God aren't gonna give up on you. Just remember that, okay?"
Newkirk blinked at his best friend. "You musta hit your head harder than I thought. You are daft, mate!"
Carter simply smiled and drifted off to sleep.
Why that conversation came to mind now, Newkirk had no idea. For his part, he was madder than ever at Carter's God. But…He had better take good care of his best mate.
Out of the corner of his eye, a beautiful older woman approached him slowly, hesitantly. Intrigued, despite his melancholy mood, he turned. His eyes widened as he recognized the woman who had haunted his dreams for so many years.
"Leticia?!"
Shyly, she came to him and smiled gently. "Hello, Peter."
He stood, cocked his head and looked at her quizzically, and she came into his arms. For a brief second, Peter smiled and glanced up. Thanks, for not givin' up, Mates.
He looked down into her beautiful eyes and as she tilted her chin to gaze up at him, she leaned in close and whispered one word…
"Yes."
~The End~