A/N:The final chapter...This one was a bit emotional for me, to be honest. I worked at a retirement home, about ten years ago and it was an absolute joy to be there. I got to experience so many different people and walks of life, but the veterans were always the closest to my heart. I had no idea when I started writing this, that such a time would be useful for moving the story along. In doing my research and making sure my times were right, I honestly was grieved to discover that almost all of our men and women from the WW2 era had been deceased or would be in a handful of years. I was shocked by the fact that being away from that retirement place for such a short time meant it was most likely that all my war veterans were gone by now. I hope this chapter conveys only the highest respect and love to those soldiers and nurses who sacrificed their very lives to save others. I will always hold a place for them in my heart.
On a different note, the timelines here are a bit jumpy, so pay attention to lines, spaces and dates. I chose to bounce around because of the flow of the story, but I don't want to create any confusion.
Chapter 4
...
A Nurses Prayer
Give to my heart, Lord...
compassion and understanding.
Give to my hands,
skill and tenderness.
Give to my ears
the ability to listen.
Give to my lips
words of comfort.
Give to me, Lord...
strength for this selfless service
and enable me to give hope
to those I am called to serve.
-Anonymous Prayer from WW2
The Westminster Chimes resonate from within the case of an old grandfather clock. Six gongs promptly follow as Alex startles awake in a tattered, leather recliner; his head throbs and lungs wheeze from the hellish nightmare he's just endured. Some images from the war refuse to fade, no matter how hard one tries to blot them out. He absently rubs both of his thumbs and index fingers together, taking in the fact that they're no longer stained with blood... that they now belong to an eighty-nine-year-old man.
Dunkirk had lost most of its grip clear back in the seventies. He still remembers the final traumatic episode right before his first grandchild was born. Perhaps the new blessing was enough to heal and reset what had been damaged for so many years. Even so, he's never been able to fully shake Normandy. It lies in wait like a venomous snake for more chances to strike and torment. He's let his guard down in the past few months, and now he's paying for it. If Tommy could see him now, he would most certainly scold him for not seeking out a bit of help; a prayer or two would've undoubtedly followed. Alex turns slowly to study the framed black and white photograph hanging up to his left. He and his best mate stand there together in their uniforms with their bikes against a brick wall. He can't recall the name of the train station anymore, but he remembers it was taken only a few days after the miraculous evacuation...just hours before being shipped off again.
Tommy wears a simple smile, a stark contrast to the fierce and steely expression of the young man beside him. It was only a mask... a fragile mask that had begun cracking away the moment a stranger's hand had bravely reached out to snatch him up from the jaws of death.
Now, his tired eyes catch the early light of dawn through the good-sized window on the other side of his flat. Vera Lynn's timeless voice sings a familiar wartime tune on the flashy new device his daughter's just set up for him the night before. The same song continues playing on in an endless loop and he hasn't the faintest clue on how to shut it off. He's already made dozens of attempts the night before; only giving up when his vision blurred to such an extent that even the glasses on the tip of his nose were of no use.
~We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day
Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away~
His weathered hand reaches up to adjust the hearing aid whistling just outside of his ear, resisting the urge to chuck it across the room for inspiring such painful memories. After a minute of fiddling, the shrill sound ceases and it's immediately replaced with a quiet sigh. The veteran's chin gradually droops to his chest from the effort, surrendering to snores in no time at all.
He doesn't hear the first few knocks on the door, and by the tenth, a short and lively nurse is waltzing into the flat, bustling about like a worker bee, throwing out garbage, placing clothes in the hamper and putting the kettle on before coming to sit at his side.
"Poor man," she whispers, turning off the looped music and setting it next to a basket of dusty TV remotes that sit at his feet.
Alex stirs when he feels her hand tap a bony knee; smiling warmly when he sees her familiar features. Her gentle presence banishes the aches he feels, both inside and out.
"My angel's come to see me." he says, leaning over to give her nose a gentle tap.
"How's my lovey this mornin'?" she replies before planting a kiss on his snow-white hair. They share a moment of small talk and playful banter before the woman brings her tote filled with various pills and treatments up to her lap. Only, she doesn't follow through with the routine, as per normal…but, instead, places both of her elbows onto the box, pressing her hands to her cheeks. Alex laughs as she bats her long eyelashes, knowing exactly why she's come to see him at such an early hour.
"Perhaps you lot would prefer I moved my things into his room." he says. It's said in jest, but by her expression, Alex wonders if she'll actually take him up on the offer.
"I know; I'm sorry, Alex. If I had any other options...but, you're truly the only thing that calms him down."
"He needs me," Alex replies, rising slowly from the chair as the nurse assists him with his gray knit cardigan.
"Yes, he does," she says, fetching the walker behind the chair and wheeling it directly in front of him.
The kettle screams to be acknowledged on the other side of the wall just then and the elderly man reaches for the little white teacup he's used the night before; It still sits upon the end table beside him. "My payment, if you please, m'lady."
The nurse smiles and bows as she takes hold of it. "Of course, my good sir!" she replies, turning about face towards the assorted boxes of tea sitting on the counter. She unwraps one and lets it steep in the, now, filled teacup and sets it carefully on the seat of the walker, making sure it doesn't slide around. Taking only another minute for socks and shoes, they set off together on what was becoming, a more and more frequent endeavor.
Coming to the aid of a friend was a privilege; Alex never once complains about the fact that he's become someone else's stability in the short time spent in a care home, nestled away in the countryside.
That's not what makes walking down halls of vintage floral wallpaper and burgundy carpet feel weightier than any march to war he's ever faced...It isn't why he tucks the sadness away in a back pocket for another time...why his hands are trembling harder than usual as they grip the handles of the walker.
No...
What makes this daily task so incredibly gut wrenching is the love he carries for a brother in arms. A brother whose soul was undeniably knit to his nearly seventy years ago.
He's only a few feet from their destination when he hears the shouts. They're angrier than anything and Alex relaxes a bit. Anger could be soothed...anger didn't make him want to weep and beg his friend to come back to him. It didn't make him wish that he could carry it all, the pain...confusion...the terror...
"Tom? I've brought someone to visit you," the nurse says after lightly tapping on the door.
There are four assistants standing near the entrance, all of them elated to see that Alex has finally arrived. He shakes his head at such a helpless lot before focusing all of his attention to the fragile creature on the hospital bed. "Bit early for a row, isn't it, Tommy boy?"
His friend's eyes finally meet his and Alex knows there's no notes of recognition in them. Sometimes it only takes a few minutes; other times he remains only a stranger in the room. Regardless, the other man always benefits from the visit...as do any other parties involved.
Tommy's raven black hair has long been replaced by a few wispy grays on a balding head. Only his moss colored eyes and the birthmark on the right side of his chin remain unaffected by time. "They're tryin' to take my food, mate," he says, "I told 'em I'm not finished with it yet, but they're just plannin' to let me...let me starve in here, I s'ppose."
A tray of last night's dinner sits atop his legs. Two pieces of soggy, breaded fish lay on a plate, only a bite taken out of each. The shriveled chips remain as well, scattered from having been examined, but otherwise untouched.
Pushing aside dismal observations, Alex tries a more direct approach this morning. He takes a seat at his companion's bedside, managing to sidestep the conflict entirely. "Oi...It's your...ol' chum, Alex...Remember?" he says with a groan as his body settles into the chair.
Intuition pays off as the other man searches over the face that stares at him so attentively. Alex imagines young Tommy in that moment...tearing curtains off the very windows of his soul to peer up into bright sunlight. It is the only way he can describe the emotion happening before his eyes.
"Alex? You've grown so old," Tommy says, reaching a wrinkled, trembling hand out.
Alex chuckles and grasps it in his own, patting it affectionately and laying it back down on the blanket. "Best look in the mirror, mate. At least I've still kept my teeth."
A few snickers escape the workers and Alex winks at them, passing the dirty tray to the one standing an arm's length away, but keeping his eyes fixed on Tommy. It doesn't faze the other man in the slightest and he sits up to show off his companion.
"Do you know...this man was with me through the entire war?" he rasps out. Alex stares at the floor as the youngsters don over-exaggerated expressions of curiosity and amazement. It really shouldn't matter that he's lost count of how many times their story has been shared. Why does he care as long as Tommy's smiling...as long as the bloke feels safe and secure? At the very least, he should be grateful that his friend was not completely lost to him...yet.
"...and then I reached my hand out, cause I seen him struggling in the water, see?" Tommy carries on, "The ship would've...squished his guts all over the mole...but I...I..."
Alex's brow furrows when the story comes to a halt; grabbing for the other man's hand when he hears the first sniffle. Emotional highs and lows were a normal part of life with dementia, but this was one of Tommy's favorite things to share. 'The beginning of a lifelong brotherhood' he used to say. What was going on in that silly ol' noggin of his?
"You saved me," Alex says, hoping that by doing so, his companion could reset and continue on in the telling.
Tommy's bottom lip quivers as a tissue box is laid in his lap. He only manages to blow his nose before he's quietly weeping into his hands.
"Tom, what's all this now? Something's got you all worked up," Alex says, rubbing small circles over his friend's back, hating that he feels every part of the man's spine through the hospital gown.
"Life… is truly but a breath," Tommy replies. "I'm...I'm worried about you, mate."
"Me? You're worried for me?"
Alex tries to wrap his head around such information before something finally clicks. He was in far better shape physically and mentally than the one concerned...but now he understands that this has nothing to do with either.
Tommy's not looking at the 'hear and now'...truthfully, he never has.
Have you really forgotten such a thing?
"Well then..." Alex says after a drawn-out pause. "Fancy a story? I should think that by the end of it, you'll not be frettin' anymore."
Tommy nods and sniffs a few more times, hope dancing across his features as he settles in like an eager child about to read a bedtime fairy tale.
None of the staff members budge from where they stand and Alex isn't sure why he's suddenly so shy about it. At his age, there was nothing to blush over anymore...nothing to keep inside. None the less his cheeks warm as he works out where to begin. "Don't you young people have a job to do?" he asks them.
"We're on break," a cheeky tween replies, grinning widely from ear to ear as she chews on a piece of gum. Everyone laughs as the veteran rolls his eyes and waves them off; all five of them remain to hear a piece of history...a bit of meaning to keep close in their hearts.
"Do you not recall anything from Normandy?" Alex asks his companion, not surprised to see the man shake his head back and forth.
No, I don't suppose you would...
"There was a time when we were done for...you and I... An explosion on the beach, just near the cliffs...You'd just been shot right off the barge... I had to carry you on my back..."
...
Sixty-Five Years Earlier...
"This one's gone. Mark the time and date."
"I need more room, soldier. Move the body to the morgue and prepare the bed for another patient!"
"You there! Run and fetch us some more blankets...keep the stable ones warm before the shock kills them off!"
Alex's green eyes are barely opening when he hears the voices hovering above and around him. They are male...female...quiet and harsh. Screams echo off tunneled walls as metal objects clink together and feet run about until every sound blends together to make one hair-raising symphony.
" If you can hear me, love, we're keeping you on your side so that you can breathe a bit better. Your back's been badly burned, but you're gonna be alright."
Alex doesn't realize the reassurance is for him until he feels the many gloved hands gripping his arms and legs in place. A cold tube brushes across his bare chest, and he coughs hard onto the sheet beneath him, blood sputtering from his lips as he does.
There are three nurses standing in front of his view, their red crosses a stark contrast to the ivory aprons they're wearing.
" I said clear this bed! Get him out of here, immediately!"
Alex fixes his gaze on the white sheet behind his caretakers then. It's only after he notices a lanky body veiled beneath it that he's choking on air.
"Tommy?" his voice squeaks, attempting to reach out for what is directly in front of him. "...Tom!?"
Two men in uniform shuffle over to dump the limp and scrawny form up and onto a gurney before quickly carrying it out of sight. There are no explanations...no parting words...not even a bloody farewell and with this...Alex loses it.
"Stop! Stop! Oh, God! Please, Please, no!" He instinctively rocks forward, nearly falling off the bed as strangers swoop over in a feeble attempt to restrain and calm.
"Hold onto him! Keep him in place or he'll damage himself further. I need another 1.5 cc of morphine over here!" some assistant shouts over the guttural howls of her patient.
"God, have mercy. Was that his mate?" another whispers, tears springing to her eyes when a medic nods from the other side of the bed.
The nurses exchange glances with the other staff involved, all of them cut to the heart for, yet another, soldier going mad on the table. All of them wonder the same thing. How long would the horrors of war last? How long would they have to endure seeing their countrymen lie here like wretched infants without a hope?
"Bring him back! Bring him back!" Alex continues to beg deliriously as he watches them strip the bloody sheets off from where Tommy had just been, replacing them with clean ones for the next incoming casualty.
"What's happened? Stop! He already has morphine running through his system! Are you planning to kill him off?" a field nurse says just then. She grabs her apron and ties it back in under a second, rushing over to assess the situation. She kicks herself for having gone to the loo and grabbing a few crackers from the galley. Her patients always suffered from the necessary breaks, thus why they were so far and in between.
She holds a special place in her heart for this one is particular...not because he's handsome, mysterious or pitiful...as were the usual reasons a soldier could find favor in a nurse's eye. It's the story the army surgeon had shared upon their arrival that causes fierce loyalty to manifest itself. "If you're able...keep these two together. We found this one on top of the other, trying to save the other boy's life...only time will tell if he succeeded," the man had said.
There had been no time to scream...no time to cry when she had seen the face of her baby brother lying lifeless with a bullet through his chest. There was only shock and the mechanical feeling in her arms and legs as she had to cut ruthlessly through burnt uniforms with a pair of dull scissors, staving off panic for when she could do no more for the sibling she adored and the stranger who had selflessly kept him alive. She could never hope to repay him...the sacrifice was beyond price. Instead, she would throw her very life into tending to him. She would wash the dirt from his skin, dress the wounds that covered his body and feed his empty stomach until he came back to the land of the living so that he could personally hear the gratitude pour from her lips.
"They just took his mate's body," a young volunteer says, making her snap from her thoughts.
"What!?... For goodness sake! His mate's the one on the left!" she shouts, hastily weaving her way around the others and climbing onto the bed. She kneels just behind Alex to hold him steady and pin his arms to his chest, all while keeping her knees from touching the bandaged burns on his back.
"Listen to me, love. I know...I know, you've just had quite a fright...but, I promise you, Tommy's still here," she says, running her fingers through his matted, brown hair. "He's safe...You're safe."
Tommy had never mentioned this boy in his letters; seeing the level of grief bleeding out of him, makes her question why she doesn't know who he is. It makes her want to understand the depth of their friendship...but then again, her brother had always kept quiet on the details of war life...choosing to speak of his longing for home and the memories they share rather than the hell he was facing.
Alex listens to the woman's words; he wants to believe what he hears, but he's lost everything one too many times. The familiar agony tells him this is permanent...that he was a fool to ever hope again.
"I was gonna tell him I got saved on Saturday," he sobs, watching someone else mop up blood from the floor around the empty space. "I wanted him to take me to that church he's always talkin' about."
"He will, sweetheart. He will..." The field nurse glances behind her at the black-haired boy sleeping next to them, who still lies unconscious and wrapped up in wool to his ears.
"Can we...transfer this lad over to this bed?" she asks, stopping a few medics passing by and gesturing to the patient behind her. When they give her odd looks, she points sharply to the bed in front of her. "He needs to see that his friend is alive. I can't move him from this spot, now, if you please, gentlemen; have some bloody compassion!"
The medics don't hesitate at the explanation, more due to shouted orders than empathy.
Alex stares at the messy tufts of ebony laid down on the pillow, followed by Tommy's sleeping face as a medic tucks the wool blanket under his chin, securing the bottle of blood plasma up and out of the way.
"There you are, darling," the field nurse whispers. "See, he's right here, next to you."
Alex melts beneath her grip; silent sobs wrack his shoulders as a paralyzing relief sets inhis muscles. At first, he can't speak; too shaken from the fit and spooked nerves. But, when he finally does, there hints of amusement in his tone. "I would've...cursed at him something fierce... a week ago..." he says, sucking in sharp, little breaths as he watches the even rise and fall of his comrade's chest. It's the proof he needs...evidence that Tommy was no longer a corpse being tossed in a bag somewhere; unseen.
"...but, I'm working on that."
Tommy's sister holds back a smile, letting go of the boy, but unable to pull her hand from his hair just yet. "You need to work on resting now." she orders. Picking up a clean rag, she wipes the blood from his lips and dabs at his cheeks, making a mental note to listen to his lungs again once he's slept for a bit.
Alex wants to thank her, but his throat feels like it's on fire from the smoke and the screaming. His eyes won't stay open another moment so he settles with a whispered, "Yes, ma'am," before succumbing to the first peaceful sleep he's had in five years.
...
"I remember," Tommy says suddenly with tears in his eyes. "You ended up marrying my sister after that...we became brothers, you and I."
Alex grins at this, grabbing the other man's face and planting a big kiss on his bald head. "Not just in marriage, ol'chap," he says with a laugh.
"Eternal brothers," Tommy finishes for him, his face awash in joy-filled weeping as some of the memories flow back to his mind like a babbling brook. "God be praised."
Alex pulls a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket; its edges dark and smudged from oil and age. Taking great care to open it without bringing further damage, he lays it on Tommy's lap, waiting for the man to understand its value.
He watches hands gently pick up the item, shaking profusely as his friend recalls what he's holding. "You kept it?" he asks. It's the very same verse Tommy had left under Alex's pillow near the beginning of the war, the cursive writing has faded on the stationary, but it's still bold enough to read off the page. "All these years..."
"You rescued me from the beaches...you let me stay by your side during the war, introduced me to your beautiful sister and even let me marry her," Alex's eyebrows bob up and down at this, causing giggles from a few of the ladies that continue to listen on in fascination. "...and you absolutely led me to the Lord, Tom."
Tommy buries his face in the crook of his arm, unable to respond as he lies back against the pillows, feeling Alex run a thumb across his free hand.
"Now...isn't it high time you let someone bless you for a change, mate? We aren't getting any younger."
Truth be told, there isn't a dry eye in the room at this moment. Not one person is left untouched by such pure and unabashed love. It is something they have only read about on the news...a brief article seen while scrolling on the internet. None of it holds a candle to the real thing...to what they're experiencing right before their eyes.
"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound...that saved a wretch like me..."
Alex's voice rasps out the lyrics of the old hymn with a bit of effort, but he's sung it to Tommy every day since they've arrived in this home, and it seems to be the appropriate time for such a thing. Tommy helps him finish the last part of the verse, both of them traveling far off to another time...another place only they can go.
At first, a few of the observers look down out of respect, feeling the intimate moment wasn't meant for them, like they had intruded on a private prayer, but as the first verse ends, Alex turns to them and gestures a conductors wave with his arms and soon everyone sings out the hymn with the enthusiasm of a professional church choir. It doesn't matter that half of them are off key...or that there are verses messed up and out of order, because the look on old Tommy's face as he listens to a song that has more meaning today than it ever has in his entire life is something priceless and forever cherished to those that stand around him.
In five short years, these two men, who shared an unbreakable bond ordained from the beginning of time, would both be only a memory here on the earth, forever in the hearts of those who were blessed enough to hear their story. There are still times when Alex's favorite caretaker stops to study the old photograph of the war buddies now displayed in the care home's entryway. She likes to imagine their reunion in heaven. Would Alex have run to embrace Tommy, scolding him and laughing about such a late arrival? Would Tommy have wept like he always had in his final days here? Did they laugh and dance together as they entered into the joys of the Lord? What was it like to come face to face with Jesus himself?
One thing was absolutely certain. Those two would never hurt again...forever free in the arms of their savior. They had fought the good fight... both the earthly war and the one in spirit...They would surely rest in peace for all eternity, safe and secure forever and ever...
...
...
General Hospital, England 1944
"Thank you, Lord...for bringing him into my life...he helped me heal...he...led me to you...so please...have mercy on him...and... fix him for me...please..."
Tommy hears the prayer, but the voice doesn't match. His brow twitches as he works hard at opening his eyes for the first time in days. When he finally manages to turn his head towards the sound, he sees Alex sitting with his face pointed downward, nose touching the mattress, one of his hands rests upon Tommy's chest, but the movement alerts him to his friend's consciousness and he recoils it back into his lap. "Tom?..Tommy?" Alex leans in closer, setting a hand on the top of the other boy's head.
"You were praying for me." Tommy whispers, eyebrows furrowed as he fights the grogginess. "Am I dreaming?"
"No."
"Am I dead?"
"No, you're not dead...cheeky blighter." Alex sniffs in amusement as his friend tries to solve the puzzle in such a state. "Don't think too hard, burn a hole through that noggin of yours."
Tommy continues to stare back at his friend, neither of them sure on what to say at the moment.
Alex sits back and puts his hands behind his head, stretching his muscles and wincing from the pain of it. His knee bobs speedily up and down as he looks at his palms like they're suddenly fascinating.
"I had planned to tell you after the mission was over," he begins at last, occasionally making eye contact with the other boy. "I thought, maybe, if you had known beforehand...that you'd think something daft, like...'my work's done here' and... I don't know...give up your life."
A tear rolls down Tommy's cheek and onto the pillow as he listens, his face stoic though his heart pounds hard in his chest.
"But…when I woke up...and you weren't there...I thought I'd lost you...and that-" Alex stops to collect himself, scratching beneath his chin and clearing his throat. He exhales slowly through his lips and tries again, hoping he could keep it together. "...I was so...scared...And I just kept thinking...Why, God?... Why?"
Alex growls as his eyes and nose leak on their own accord. He may as well finish his thoughts with reckless abandonment at this point. Pride? Was there ever such a thing before he had encountered this weaselly little scoundrel?
"Well...there it is, I s'ppose," he continues. "You're not dead...and now...I can finally tell you that I... have truly been...born again."
"Alex."
"What?"
Tommy raises his arm out and Alex doesn't hesitate to hug the boy, thankful that he didn't have to go on in his ramblings any more since he's never been good with words anyway.
"Thank God." Tommy murmurs, pulling away and wiping his swollen eyes. "Eternal brothers, mate...you know, you're actually stuck with me forever now." He laughs from deep within his frame and Alex soon finds himself joining in, shaking his head and throwing up his hands in mock horror. "Oh my God, what have I signed up for!?" he cries out.
"Forever AND ever...that's what it says, I'm afraid."
"Done." Alex replies, sighing heavily and raking his hands through his hair.
Tommy chuckles a bit more before glancing around the room, eyes searching for something unseen. "Did my pocket Bible survive?" he asks.
Alex pulls the sought-after item out from a bag hanging up by the head board, dusting it off before giving it to the other soldier.
Tommy pulls it to his chest and pauses there a moment. Alex wonders whether he's praying or simply pleased that the Holy book is back in his possession. Whatever the case, he eventually opens it up in search for a passage, and when it gets too exhausting, his arms limply bring it to Alex, hoping the other bloke will find it for him.
"I don't know if I..." Alex says.
"Gotta start somewhere, mate."
The older boy groans and Tommy suppresses a laugh, helping him get to the verse he wants as best he can.
"Got it!" Alex says, quite pleased with his efforts.
"Good. Now, read it out loud." Tommy replies, smiling when his friend curls up his lip at the notion. "Go on then. Off you go!"
After some more grumbling and coaxing, Alex caves to reading the words, setting it down on the bed so that Tommy can read it too.
"I have fought a good fight...I have finished my course...I have kept the faith...Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing. 2 Timothy 4:7-8 "
Alex closes the Bible as he finishes the last line, taking in what he's just read. "Our fight's just begun," he says matter of fact. But there's no notes of anxiety in his words. Perfect peace rests upon his bandaged shoulders. For him, the new feeling is nothing short of miraculous.
Tommy sinks back onto his pillow, closing his eyes and nodding in agreement.
"Alex?" he asks.
"Tom?" Alex replies.
"If ever we should make it to be a couple of old geezers...you and I... I mean, if we get to survive this war...find ourselves a couple of wives and live out even a hint of normalcy...let's not part ways."
"No. Not ever, God willing." Alex smiles and ruffles his comrade's hair.
Tommy's eyes remain closed but he smiles right back, falling asleep to Alex's voice as he shares what's happened between the beaches and the transport home, while a gentle breeze flows in through an open window and the gulls call from the not too distant shore.
...
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this story! It's been awhile since I've completed something and I've had so much fun writing it.. Let me know what you think and God Bless you!