"Somehow, a few others and I managed to escape the base that night. All our vehicles had been destroyed or taken by the Germans, so after a night lying low in a nearby wood, the survivors, with nothing but the clothes we stood in, marched the twenty-five miles to the nearest town. It was a hot summer's day, the sort of day that in any other situation you would go on a picnic, or to the beach, or eat ice creams in the street or drink cold beers sprawled on an inviting patch of grass. But we had nothing to eat or drink that whole day, aside from a few mouthfuls of water lapped up from a muddy stream. By the time we arrived on the outskirts of town we were barely able to stand.

The local priest, who it turned out, had used his position of trust to win favour with the local German commander, then passed information to the British and French, had heard of the attack on the base. He met us outside the town with a horse and covered cart, and told us to climb aboard. We had no idea whose side he was on at this time, but, delirious with heat exhaustion perhaps, we all clambered aboard. He hid us in the crypt of his church and saw that we were fed, watered and as comfortable as we could be. All I wanted was some clean clothes, the smell of stale sweat, dirt and the blood of German soldiers rose from my tunic. It was nauseating."

Patrick paused. "Nauseating" he thought, "No, nauseating was nowhere near the right word." He continued aloud

"Repulsive, revolting, disgusting, sordid, abhorrent, need I say more, little one, no adjective can describe that smell, that feeling. The constant reminder that not only had I killed, but also had come within inches of being killed."

He shuddered.

"We were down in that crypt for four days before we were picked up and taken to another army base about three hours away. After we had washed, changed and eaten, we were told by the officers at the new base that they had decided to let us have a night off before recommencing duties the next morning. The younger Privates thought this was a fabulous idea, but Captain Jennings and I, being slightly older, were more cynical. What was one night off to a man who had just cheated death by inches? But despite our cynicism, we joined the young Privates in a café in the village."

Patrick readjusted himself on the sofa.

"The cobbled village square where the café was located was the sort of place where, if I could, I would have spent several long, lazy days, with a coffee or a beer, just sitting, watching the world go by. There were shady trees, flower boxes, a pretty fountain and shops and cafés with stripy awnings. Although we knew that the village was not yet under German control, there was a fear in the air, we eyed everyone with suspicion, and the locals reciprocated. We sat down at a table in the back of the café, deciding that it would be safer if we were away from the windows. We ordered wine, as the café had run out of beer. It was just local Plonk, quite dry and fairly strong, but pleasant enough. None of us had really drunk wine before, and, knowing no better, we were drinking it at the same rate that we would have drunk a pint of beer. As the evening wore on, we became more and more drunk. The young Privates were completely out of it, and even Captain Jennings and I had got carried away. And then the women arrived."

Patrick rubbed his eyes and then his forehead.

"Why, why did I do that?" he said.

"A group of women arrived in the café. Although my vision was hazy with drink, I could tell immediately that these were not reputable women of the village. They wore high heels, silk stockings and fitted dresses that were short enough to flash their lace suspender belts with barely enough material in the bodice to contain their voluptuous bosoms. They saw us lurking in the back of the café and we must have been sitting targets. They sidled over, swinging their hips and tossing their hair seductively, beckoning to us. Captain Jennings and I tried to ignore them, but the young Privates, naïve and full of drink, were enchanted. The women sat on their knees, and began kissing them, and gradually one by one, the women led them away from the table and up a wooden spiral staircase. Captain Jennings, who was a few year older than me I remember, was happily married, and very uncomfortable in the situation, so necked the rest of his wine and staggered out of the café. Seeing Captain Jennings, my last line of defence, leave, one of the women left Private McDonald, who she had been sharing with a curvaceous red-head, and came and sat on my knee. I flinched as she started touching my face; her long fingers exploring every ridge and contour.

'So' she said in a deep, husky voice in my ear, "What is a 'andsome young Englishman like you doing 'ere tonight?'

Her English was perfect, though heavily accented. I wondered at the time how a prostitute in a tiny French village had learned English so well. Looking back now, I expect she bedded many an English soldier, before and after me. I could not answer her, I do not know why. The next thing I knew she was kissing me, caressing my lips with her tongue, forcing my mouth to open wider, and her tongue in deeper."

Patrick lifted his daughter off his chest, so that he could look straight into her bright blue eyes.

"Promise me, that your first time is in your own bed, and that the man you are with loves you, and you love him. That way you will not regret it, as I regret my first time."

The little girl looked at her father. Patrick, of course, knew that she had no idea what he was talking about, but he hoped she would heed his warning when the time came. He kissed her nose and then replaced her on his chest.

"Something made me climb up those spiralled stairs with that woman that night. It wasn't her beauty. Yes, she was brunette, with sparkling eyes and exquisite curves, but the only beauty I had eyes for was my Liz, the girl who I had left behind in London, the girl I eventually married, Timothy's mother. Was it the drink? Perhaps! I'd certainly had plenty that night. After the wine, one of the Privates, Thompson I think it was, had returned from the bar with a bottle of Calvados. In our eagerness to try it, we had knocked it back with great force, and unpleasant consequences. Several of us were sick across the room. No, little one, I know why I did what I did that night.

'C'mon Pat,' Private Davies, a cocky Welsh lad, had shouted to me as he headed up the stairs accompanied by a leggy blonde, 'we could be dead tomorrow, live for the moment and all that.'

These words, the events of the past week and being stupid with drink, made me suddenly lose all sense of sanity or morality. I'd cheated death by the skin of my teeth once, how many more times would I be lucky? I could be dead tomorrow, I thought, what on earth have I got to lose? So I put a few francs into the brunette's cleavage, and she took me upstairs into a small dark room.

There was a bed in the middle of the room with blankets strewn across it. Once I was there, I began to regret listening to the cocky Taffy. But it was too late to go back on my decision. She had removed her clothes with alarming speed, discarding them on the floor. She beckoned me towards her but I was rooted to the spot. Her nakedness shocked me. I think I may have blushed. Examining a female patient and seeing a woman like this were two very different things. When I didn't move, she preceded to pull me onto the bed. It had an old, wrought iron frame, it creaked terribly and the mattress sagged underneath our weight. She began kissing me and rubbing her hands all over me, dispensing with my tunic as fast as she'd removed her dress. When I did not reciprocate, she grabbed my wrists and placed my hands first on her breasts, then between her legs. Everything felt so wrong, the last thing I could do was enjoy it. This is not how I wanted to be intimate with a woman. I had always imagined that my first time would be magical. Unperturbed, she began to undo my trousers, pulling them to my knees with one, well practised manoeuvre and reached inside my underwear. She then stopped, and looked disappointed.

My heart had skipped several beats as she touched me. I had had to stop myself gasping.

'Oh, do you not love me?' she said in mock innocence, 'Do you not like this?'

I could not respond. I did not know how to respond. I did not need to respond.

'Per'aps you are nervous,' she said almost immediately, 'I will 'elp you, do not worry, my little soldier.'

And help me she did. She knew exactly what to do, where to touch. She knew exactly how to get what she wanted out of me, and I suddenly lost all my ability to control myself; she was fully in control of me. She pinned me to the bed, guided me inside her, and she began making noises I never knew a woman could make. I was desperate for it to end. She eventually rolled off me and I breathed a sigh of relief.

'There, little boy' she drawled with mock affection, stroking my chin, 'That was not so bad was it?'

I think I must have fallen asleep immediately, I don't remember answering her, or anything else for that matter, until I woke up the next morning, with a hangover from hell and a tongue which resembled old boot leather. I looked over to the other side of the bed and she was gone. I picked up my clothes, dressed and left through a back entrance in fear of being charged for a nights stay. I realised after I got back to the base that she had stolen the money which I had left."

Patrick stroked his daughter's back.

"I never even knew her name." He allowed a small smile creep across his face. "You make sure young lady, that you always know with whom you are having the pleasure!"

The smile then melted from his face.

"I regretted that night as soon as it was over, though I did not realise the worst consequence of the decision I made that night until many years later, on my first wedding night. I had carried my beautiful Liz, the girl who waited so long for me, up to our bedroom. We lay beside each other in our bed, holding each other, kissing like we had never kissed before. I remember rolling onto her, and seeing the look on her face. She looked worried.

'I don't know what to do,' she'd said innocently, 'do you?'

'Don't worry' I'd said.

After we had made love, she fell asleep in my arms. I could not sleep though. My mind was racked with guilt. Liz had waited for me, but I had not waited for her. She never knew another man, but I had known another woman. And a woman of ill-repute at that! I had gained the knowledge of women by illicit means. Liz loved and trusted me enough to allow me to take her virginity; she thought she was taking mine too. That lie pained my heart, but I never told her, I could not tell her."