Chapter Two
Being in the military hurt. It hurt because everyday Edmund would wake up to bad news and never good news. And the day would be long and dragging with the bad news clouding in everyone's mind. And the next day was the same. And the next day.
It hurt because Edmund'd wake up next to many lonely strangers. Strangers who yelled at night when nightmares came. Nightmares came in all forms in military. Losing love ones. Being torture. Being blasted into a jelly of blood and flesh. The war was unpleasantly long. In the first few months, people still received letters from home. Then it stopped because "the general said the Germans blocks the post traffic back home." Everyone in the army lost the fire they had when they joined. They were, Edmund thought, living dead. Living machines.
And there were rules, many of them that Edmund found ridiculous. Army didn't need discipline in Narnia. Because Narnians weren't savage and they would turn up on time. Because Narnians wouldn't start fight against each other. Because Narnians would always hold on but not give up half way. Because Narnians fought for freedom and soldiers here fought for the ticket to go back to their own beds.
Edmund had been sure that he could find peace by taking part in the war. To seek revenge on people who destroyed his home. To give justice to Gwen and Elisa and those who died – to give justice to his father who died in evacuating the continent at Dunkirk. To act noble and selfless like Peter. To sacrifice himself for the others like Aslan. To fulfill his instinct to protect.
Now the idea was utterly idiotic. Trying to find peace within chaos because there was chaos in your head? Trying to expel demons inside by acting like one? Edmund did not find the peace he wanted. He found suffering and living nightmares. The only peace that he gained when a day was done was the hour when he was too physically tired and his brain stopped producing images of his teammates dying – the hour that he was exhausted enough to sleep dreamlessly.
Dreams were horrible things. Sweet dreams made Edmund miss all the things he had and all the things he could have. He'd wake up aching as though the pain was an actual physical chest pain. Bad dreams involved dying and losing, which was a pain that Edmund was quite used to now. He couldn't decide which dream served better pain.
Painless dreams were dreams that he found himself sleeping leaning against the warm body of a lion, who Edmund knew by name. Even though he'd wake up again the wet muddy bed again with ten guys in the same room snoring, he wouldn't be scared.
Edmund lost the sense of places and dates, he knew events and time slots. Edmund had only received Lucy's letter once, that everyone was terrified for him. Lucy said Peter had talked to her the very next day, that Peter had always known Edmund wanted to leave and join the army. Was it that obvious? Well, his brother grew up fighting by his side, of course he'd know.
Edmund was the best soldier in his unit. He was also the quietest in the group. His captain made him the team leader pretty soon. When the boys, about his age, all eager to go to whorehouses, Edmund stayed to polish the gun, or the desk, or clean the bed sheets, or the pillows.
"You need to aim to kill, Mr Wallet!" The most frequent thing his captain said to him.
"I just have to hurt him enough to stop him from attacking others," Edmund said. Edmund avoided killing, and he had been successful so far.
"That's not enough," Captain said.
"It's enough as long as I get all my mates out safe and sound," Edmund said. His mates adored his leadership and admired his skill and quickness in decision making.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks to months. Places names blurred into sights of trees and more trees and wetter weather went from mild to wet to cold and snow. Edmund didn't bother to write back home anymore. Nothing was fascinating here, and Edmund didn't have more spare will to write happy letters. March passed, then April and May.
And eventually there came a starry evening when the Captain announced the cross countries operation of the Normandy Landings. The D-Day. Western countries gathered force and they came up with a deception plan.
"There will be victory. Your service ends after the D-day. You'll be going home." the military radio said. Edmund's teammates were energetically talking about this.
"I'm marrying my girl after this," a bloke in his team said. Edmund's boys drank to that. Edmund wearily raised his flask.
For a second, he was sure that he'd be alone for the rest of his life. Because no one had seen things the way he did. No one would understand it. This time, not even Lucy. He immensely regretted not ever getting married during the Golden Age. Edmund wondered if that Ivan boy ever asked his sister out on dates. He wondered if Peter would approve, if Susan would be delighted. He wondered how his mother would react if all her children got married and came home with many grandchildren for Christmas. What a Christmas feast it would be. And Edmund wondered if he ever had children, would Aslan let them go to Narnia? He wondered if Narnia was in peace.
"My wife told me that my son drew pictures of me," a thin looking guy said, "and he drew you, Kevin. He's never seen you before of course, but I wrote about you. You must come and see my family after this."
Edmund smiled and nodded, toasting to his son.
"Tell us about you, Kevin! Stop being the mysterious guy! We're probably all going home after the D-day – won't see you again!"
"Come on Kevin! A story. A joke!"
"Got anyone special back home?"
Sometimes Edmund wished he could reveal that he was only 17, not the 25 years old Kevin Wallet that he pretended to be. Edmund made up a story about a girl living in his neighborhood and how she had beautiful hair and nice eyes. Everyone passed out within two hours with more toasting to other's families. They had a day off tomorrow.
Edmund went into the bathroom with his flask of vodka. He looked at the mirror. He barely recognised himself.
"To Narnia," Edmund toasted to the shabby Just King in the reflection, who looked at him tiredly. This soldier had longer messy black hair and his dark brown eyes were darker though it had nothing to do with the color nor the dim light in the bathroom. His cheeks were red. He was unshaved. He looked like 25. Edmund turned off the bathroom light and reread the D-day instructions on his bed.
The day before the 6th of June 1944, Edmund talked to his teammates again about the arrangement of the next day. He checked the Normandy map again and confirmed the time that the ships would pick up the team. Edmund made sure everyone went to bed early.
"We can all go home," someone said in the dark.
"And get married," someone replied.
"And my daughter and mum."
"Shut up and sleep or I'll dig you out to do the physicals," Edmund said roughly.
Home. He'd left for eight months, that seemed like decades. How was home like? How was his family like? Home didn't sound like home. It was a flat. Edmund would give anything he had now to go back to Narnia. He wasn't scared of tomorrow. But what came after tomorrow? How was his demons doing now? What to escape after that? Did it mean he would have to think about the elderly house and all the good men he'd lost here in this bloody war?
Edmund imagined Aslan coming in to the tent, roaring and asking him to climb on his back. He pictured Aslan rescuing him and brought him to His Country, one that sounded so distanced and hopeful. Did he deserve to be there though?
How would Lucy think when she saw him? Would he be unwanted? What about mum and Peter and Susan?
Well, Susan wouldn't like the beard and having to see Edmund with hair this long, Peter would call him a girl. Mum would shout and scream. Lucy. Lucy would make him cakes or soup and give him the warmest hugs. She would probably give him back the torch and say something magnificent like "now here's your torch. Now it will guide you and give you light. And light is hope." Always a wise little git.
So life would go back to the way it had been. Small talks of Narnia. Boring work. School. War ended. Even applying for university. What if he couldn't make it?
Edmund got out of his bed and went to the bathroom when the guys started to snore. He took out a knife to cut his hair and small blade to shave the beard. He looked 17 years old again. And he sat on a log outside the tent, thinking about the night he went back to Narnia and finding Cair Paravel in ruin. What if he became the ruins after all these?
And for the first time he started to talk to Aslan. People passed by thought he was a lunatic or was someone who was too scared of the coming day. But Edmund poured his heart out and talked to Aslan. Whenever the warm breezes came when he talked, he knew Aslan was listening. And the breezes had never stopped coming.
Edmund talked about how tough all these were and that he was sorry. He said he didn't meant to be this way, and that he didn't mean to bring so much trouble to people around. He talked about missing home and Narnia, talked about everyone around him and how much invisible pain he was dealing with each day.
He talked like a little child telling a parent what happened in school. Edmund went on and on until the moon was high over head. He cried a bit when he acknowledged the grim, lone king that he always had been and how he didn't wish to trust again because of the Witch. He asked Aslan if he could ever have someone who he could trust and fall asleep next to. He asked if he would ever be truly happy. He asked if he could think about the elderly house without feeling pain.
When the breezes stopped, he knew Aslan was hurrying him to bed. So he went to bed and closed his eyes. He woke early the next day and woke his mates. Everyone was dressed up and had breakfast. Edmund ate very little. They were armed and loaded into boats, sailing towards the Normandy beach. Nobody really talked at the beginning.
Someone recited a poem by Emily Dickens. And they took turn reciting poems and lines. Some made lines up and some even spoke of some Shakespeare lines. Edmund gazed at the sky. It was grey and Edmund thought of the songs he had once known in Narnia. There were birds flying somewhere near the clouds and the tides were rough.
"Your turn Kevin," Edmund heard someone said.
"I," Edmund paused, looking at the machine gun in his hands, "there's one that I know.
Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of His roar, sorrows will be no more,
When He bares His teeth, winter meets its death,
And when He shakes His mane, we shall have spring again."
"That's," Edmund's mate said, "quite nice. Don't know what it's about, but very powerful."
"Makes you feel warm, doesn't it? Here!" The guy pointed his chest. Edmund smiled lightly. Edmund fell into silence again. All he needed now was to concentrate on one thought – get his men in, get them all out.
There was a loud ring from the other larger boats, and the units were sent out groups by groups. Edmund watched the men rushing to the beach as though it was the land of treasure, greeted by bullets and fell on the sand, staining the ground red. And there were more men sent. Planes were throwing bombs out. There was explosion louder and brighter than any firework. And there were fighting and yelling and men sinking into the sand. There were more men, running like ants avoiding raindrops. It went on and on and the sun shone its brightest through the misty grey clouds. There weren't silvery linings.
Hours later, Edmund heard men yelling in victory in all languages. The Frenchmen shouted from the other boat, "Wee wun! Wee wun!"
Edmund's team was yelling in excitement. In a distant, Edmund saw men loading away big machine. There were many bodies on the beach. Edmund heard his Captain's signal.
"Get ready to land!" Edmund shouted to his big boat of people, which included people from other unit. The boat landed and the units spread out in the open beach. Edmund's team followed him to the other part of the beach, where there were lots of tall fences. Edmund's team duty was to find survivors and bring them to the open beach.
Edmund had his gun ready but he wasn't going to shoot anyone. This idea was in his head when he was searching for survivors. His teammates got some young American kids out.
There was a sound of shooting -
"Duck!" Edmund shouted. His burly teammate ducked and there was a German soldier standing there with hands holding a short gun. He was yelling in German. He was desperate and it was as though Edmund could understand his words – that he hated this war and he didn't want to take part in any of these. From the German's eyes, Edmund knew the soldier had seen terrible things, that they were living in his head.
"Kill him," Someone standing next to him said.
"No," Edmund replied, he stood up and said in English, "I don't know your pain, Put down the gun, we'll work this out."
The German gave out a loud yell and picked up a loaded gun on the floor, he shot and shot and shot non stop until Edmund raised his gun and aimed the German's shoulder. He shot and the men fell down. Edmund fell someone sinking to the ground behind him. He turned around. His seven remaining teammates all lying flat on the ground. There was blood coming out. A lot of blood. Everywhere add anywhere.
Edmund's heart stopped.
"HELP!" was the only word he could make out. There were people coming towards him from all directions. Edmund truly realised that they would be no peace. How was he ever going to sleep again at night after seeing people who slept next to him for the previous eight months dead? That moment, as his Captain took him away from the beach, Edmund believed he had killed all seven of his teammates. Everyone understood that it was an accident, though Edmund constantly thought about the way it could be if he took down that German. Even though he did not kill, his soul was torn.
Edmund wished he could put down the past the way Aslan had helped him. It wasn't possible here though, there was no place to put the war but his head. Edmund remembered tripping over the bodies on the beach. Edmund packed the things in the tent and decided to send them back to the soldier's families. The most of the war in Europe ended with the success of the D-day.
Edmund brought his teammate's stuff back to their home one by one. He went to George Town in Cayman Islands, went to Ashbourne in Derbyshire, Saltash in Cornwall, Tonbridge in Kent, Wallingford and Wantage in Oxfordshire and Fleet in Hampshire. Edmund brought the clothes and photos back. He went through their wallets and looked through their family photos. Something sank inside him. Their families thanked him for bringing back the stuff, but Edmund'd rather them curse him.
Sitting on the train on his way back to London, he wished he could cry. He didn't. His eyes were dry and blood shot and the train slowly stopped. Edmund heard that the underground was still a shelter for the homeless until more public houses were built. Edmund thought he'd find Lucy there. He bought cheese and bread and went to the underground, where Lucy was sitting with a boy who he knew was Ivan and, looking like they were in deep conversation.
"My sister sewed your shirt," Edmund said in a dry voice.
Lucy looked up. She stared at Edmund for a moment. Edmund was about to turn around when Lucy leapt up and hugged him. Lucy wrapped her arms around him and Edmund saw her shoulders jerking. The little wise git was crying. Edmund suddenly realised that the weather now was quite warm, and he missed people and buildings instead of trees and mud ground.
"You came back!" His red haired sister screamed with tears coming down her cheeks. "You came home! Wait tell mum hear this! And Ed, this is Ivan! He helped me to help the homeless!"
Edmund shook hand with Ivan, who nodded sternly.
"Lu want to go somewhere?" Edmund said, "I've got food."
Edmund and Lucy sat on the edge of the platform away from people. Edmund unwrapped the cheese and bread and they ate in silence. Lucy dropped her head on Edmund's shoulder.
"I've missed you so much," Lucy said, "Peter and Susan don't argue now. Mum is always screaming whenever we mentioned you. Why didn't you write?"
"The transport is broken," Edmund said.
"You seem so quiet," Lucy said, "what's wrong?"
Edmund shrugged.
"Now you're keep secrets from me?" Lucy said in a demanding voice.
"It'll be the best," Edmund said, "terrible things happen in wars. Wars are ugly, however angle you look at it."
"Did you find your peace?"
"Yes," Edmund lied, and he asked about Ivan.
"And now, Peter works in the public houses, helping to build things," Lucy informed him.
"Architecture isn't his strongest strength," Edmund said, chewing the bread. Sitting in the platform and being able to talk to his sister like normal was somewhat unfamiliar to Edmund. He was not used to being relax.
"Well, he just has to carry around wooden planks or those physical work," Lucy said, "Susan works in a school now, a school nurse. She wants to go back to America soon. She wants to work in Hollywood, how cool that sounds."
Edmund nodded, "I think working in underground is sort of really brilliant."
Lucy beamed, "come on. Let's go home."
Edmund got up and on their way home in the golden sunset, Edmund asked, "Do you think we'll ever go back to Narnia? Well, Aslan didn't exactly say we won't."
"We'll always go back," Lucy said, "One day. Or someday, in a crazy way – that's what I always believe."
Edmund nodded.
"When He thinks it's time, He'd have His way bringing us home," Lucy said, "it could be anything. Come on, He broke down a train platforms and made us walk through a wardrobe, anything can happen. He always has His way. His style."
"It's like we're just part of His story," Edmund said.
"I believe it's a very big part," Lucy said.
Standing in front of the door, Edmund, in his trench coat, looked at Lucy uneasily.
"Maybe I can come home tomorrow -"
"You'll be alright," Lucy said, rubbing his shoulder. Lucy opened the door and inside, the fireplace was lit. Susan and mum were in the kitchen, both seemed to be in a bad mood. Peter was sitting in front of the chess set, seemed to be playing against himself.
"Edmund's home!" Lucy shouted, took Edmund's bag and went inside. Edmund looked around and his brother jumped up, knocking down the chess set and embraced Edmund before he could say anything. Peter kept patting Edmund's back and Edmund heard mum screaming and Susan shrieking. He heard them saying something about missing him and that him leaving this way was "irresponsible".
Edmund sat around the table when dinner was prepared. Edmund had taken a bath before coming down. He dared not to look at the mirror. During dinner, mum kept asking him about the war and the unit and the battlefield. Susan was curious too.
"I think that's enough questions for him," Peter said, "Let's talk about something else other than the war. The war belongs to the past and it's over."
"But Peter, your brother just came back -"
"I don't think he wants to talk about that," Peter said. Edmund smiled gratefully as Peter went on, "Susan, tell us about the Hollywood thing?"
"Well they've got a role there," Susan said, "it's film about a legendary singer. I am auditioning for the main role, and if I get it, I can be the spokemodel of a lipstick brand that I really like. It's exciting!"
"Only that I am not sure if you should go on the Hollywood path," mum said, "It's glamorous but highly dangerous. The stars are ruined."
"Well I'm very good at taking care of myself," Susan said. "I can protect myself."
"Yes you can protect yourself when you have an arrow and bow in a battlefield field with Caspian's saving," Peter said, "but out there? It's different."
"I'm not a kid anymore," Susan said. "I'm not always a kid."
"The Hollywood industry is treacherous," Peter replied.
"Then what? Like you working like an unnoticed constructor for the government's houses? How much you're getting paid -"
"You seem to forget that we've been rich for about 15 years back home," Peter said, "and that isn't enough for all that desire for fame and wealth? You were a qu-"
"Do I have them now?" Susan asked, "you're stubborn and old fashion and impossible. At least I am not-"
"No Susan -" Lucy whispered.
"- the one who insisted attacking Miraz's castle when we could have turned back. At least I didn't hold deaths in my account!"
Susan grabbed her bowl and went upstairs. Peter muttered something about going out for a walk.
"And you say they don't argue?" Edmund whispered to Lucy.
"It's called an discussion. It's their way of speaking– bringing back other's shameful past." Lucy said. "I'll talk to Susan. You get Peter."
Mum was covering her face with her hands, returning to her bedroom. Edmund decided to finish dinner on his own instead of going to find Peter. Edmund appreciated the state of solitary. Edmund found the table being strangely big without the presence of other people. And he ate silently, cleaned the kitchen silently and saw Peter coming home.
Peter picked up the blue towel to helped to dry the plates.
"You've been so quiet during dinner," Peter said, "thought you'd say something about Susan's decision."
"Like it's going to make any difference," Edmund said, "the last thing I need is her bringing up things from me."
"The war was terrible, wasn't it?" Peter said.
"You knew better," Edmund said. Peter smiled bitterly.
"I know you think I should've joined it," Peter said, "you think I can fight and all that. But wars cause causality, and I have it sorted that, I have seen enough deaths."
"I am glad you didn't," Edmund said. "When...Peter when we went back to Aslan's How from the castle, what were you thinking? I flew over the castle and there wasn't one living Narnians. They were counting on you for their lives and they died – no offense."
"It's quite a weary feeling to be honest. Everything I did was, well, emotionally driven. I had to take priorities. I had people looking up to me," Peter said, "but arrogance aside, I had to learn from the attack and learn when to stop grieving. There were still wars to fight that time, more important decisions to make. And I was sorry being a jerk to Caspian. And there were many complications and the Witch tried to tempt us again - I didn't have time to be sad."
"What about afterward? All these feelings don't vanish with a snap of finger."
"They don't. They'll come and you'll have to greet them like an old friend. But it's either you rule your mistakes or your mistakes rule you," Peter said patiently, "and you'll learn. Everyone learns differently. It takes time. I know it's difficult because you didn't lose soldiers to the wars, you lost friends. Don't let the grim eat you up. Mourn when it's time to mourn. Embrace the pain because if you don't, it won't go away. Gather courage again when it's time to continue."
Peter patted his back before going back into his room. Edmund didn't hear Peter snore that night.
The next few days, they moved into a bigger house somewhere near where Peter worked. It was a quiet place with a front yard. Susan was in a constant bad mood. Peter and Lucy always kept Edmund accompanied though they rarely spoke of the war.
One particular night, however, Edmund was sitting on the window sill. The siblings had their own bedroom now. Edmund had just avoided his mother from talking about the D-day. Edmund wondered about the family of the deceased soldiers.
Edmund was thinking about Narnia, and when he looked at the sky, he found a star that shone at its brightest. And for a moment, the star seemed to be calling him home. Edmund fell asleep on the window sill then, and he had a wonderful dream of having tea with centaurs and mermaids.
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