So, Grandad, What Did You Do in the War?
Copyright© 2024 by Zak
Chapter 6
We never had another reunion, and I never heard from the lads again.
When my father decided to retire in the early 1950s, he handed over the company to me.
In my first year as MD, I decided to visit all the suppliers we had used in France.
I decided to take a holiday as part of the trip.
I took my new car and drove over. It was good to see some of the old faces; some were not around, as the war had claimed them. It was also sad to see the devastation that had been levelled on the towns and villages.
After two weeks of work, I got the map book out and found where I had been dropped. It didn’t take me long to find the village that Alain and Marianne had taken me back to.
It took half a day’s drive to get there, and I got a room at the village hotel. It was late in the afternoon, and I ate at a local restaurant.
After a fine meal, the old lady who ran the place brought me another bottle of wine and, in good English, asked why I was visiting the village.
I asked her to sit down, I poured her a glass of wine, and I told her the story of my war. She cried as I told her about my injuries.
She told me the meal was on her for my actions to save her country.
The following day, I toured around. I found the woods I had hidden in, walked, and saw the broken-down cottage that had been my home for a few days.
I drove to the bridge, which is now rebuilt, but you can still see signs of the damage. I found the field where the AA guns had been. There were no signs of the guns or the huts. You could see the roads running to it but little else.
I stood silently thinking about what I had done, of the men I had killed but who would have killed me.
I started to weep uncontrollably.
Later that afternoon, I drove back to the village; the receptionist told me that the lady, who was called Amélie, who owned the restaurant, had left a message for me.