Okay I have been watching Goodbye, Farewell and Amen all day and this was just a product of that.
Disclaimer: I am not even old enough to have been alive when these first aired!!!!
Charles' Last Hours
Mmm, what is that noise? Oh better get up. What, is that the musicians? What are they doing with them? I grabbed my robe and strode over to the truck. I said to one of the MPs there, "What are you doing? Where are you taking these people?"
The MP said, "Got to get 'em to a relocation centre Major. Get 'em ready for the big switch. We're swapping their prisoners for ours."
"yes fine, just leave me five of them. Him, him, him, him and ah him."
"Sorry major, they all go."
"But, but you can't I've come to close to stop now!"
"Move out!" the MP called, the truck slowly began making its way away from the camp.
The flutist started to speak and gesture to the other POWs. Then they all picked up their instruments and began to play. They played the song I had been teaching them.
They finally got it right, dolce. I listened to their playing, listened in wonder at the beauty of the music as the truck took them further down the road and out of my life. They truly are wonderful. They don't deserve this.
My thoughts were interrupted by the rough sound of the PA. An announcement was made, "Ladies and gentlemen. Five minutes ago, at ten oh one this morning, the truce was signed in Panmunjab. The hostilities will end twelve hours from now at ten o'clock. The war is over!!"
At this announcement shouting and cheering erupted across the compound. I couldn't believe it. This hell was over. Someone started a conga line but instead of joining in I found Father Mulcahy and hugged him with joy. He seemed too stunned to realise what had really happened. It was then that more wounded arrived so we all ran to take care of them. Giving blood and assessing injuries. As I was checking a patient's vitals I overheard Margaret say to BJ, "Does this look like peace to you?" It isn't peace; it's the countdown to peace.
We operated for a few hours before packing up camp and going back to our old compound. I was shocked when we got there. The fire had just torn through it, scorching and burning, leaving nothing untouched. It left the compound black and smoking.
We were immediately ordered by Colonel Potter to get to work. After setting up we finished operating on the last few patients. In the middle of it there was an announcement of the statistics of the war. So many people were killed or wounded and too many civilians were made homeless or orphaned.
There was a call of even more wounded and I offered to do triage. I got outside and checked a few patients over before being told of a POW. He was apparently in the back of the truck when it was hit. Nurse Kelleye was already with him. I checked his wounds and noted that half oh his chest was gone, surgery would be useless. When I reached out to check his pulse I recognised his face.
He was one of the musicians. I was so stunned and just couldn't believe it. I vaguely heard Nurse Kelleye ask if there was anything we could do for him but all I could think was how much he didn't deserve this. I said out loud, "He wasn't even a soldier. He was a musician." I looked at the driver of the jeep and asked, "What happened to the other people in the truck?"
"He's the only one who made it this far." I looked back at the wounded man. Five lives that could have brought so much to this world, wasted.
"Major,' Nurse Kelleye said, interrupting my thoughts. "Major we have to prep the others. Why don't you take a break."
I walked away from him, into the Swamp. I sat down and turned to my record player. Though my hands were bloodied I put on the record of the song I had been teaching them. I listened to the beauty and innocence of the music. Then in a swift move I pulled out the record and broke it into a thousand pieces. It wasn't the same, it just wasn't the same.
We had a celebration that night. It was full of laughter, singing, talking, dancing and of course, drinking. After we had eaten Colonel Potter asked what we would all be doing now that the war was over. Various people told us of how they were going to start or join a business, many nurses talked of starting to nurse again while one man said he was going to stay with the army.
Finally it was my turn I stood and said carefully, "Well I'm going to be Head of Thoracic Surgery at Boston Mercy Hospital. My life is going pretty much as I expected." I paused and thought no not everything. "With one exception. For me music was always a refuge from this miserable experience. Now it will always be a reminder." With that I sat down. Contemplating just what this war had taken from me. Not just a year and a half of my life but the actual essence of my life, my sanity, and most of all, my music.
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