Children of a Faraway War by Gruner Wendy

Author:Gruner, Wendy [Gruner, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-77180-370-0
Publisher: Iguana Books
Published: 2019-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

WELL ON THE RIGHT SIDE

By the time the course at Turweston finishes there is a change in the tone of the diary. Satisfaction shines from the pages, the entries are detailed and personal. We are proud of our smart dad for, in spite of his fears of failure, he has come well out on the right side. He, Mike, and Cliff leave Turweston on a warm and drowsy morning, heading back to the base at Silverstone, riding our bikes, lazily taking our time and enjoying the exquisite luxury of a sunny day. They are comfortable together. Mike is delivering some very wise remarks on the modern young girl. Good old Mike. He certainly is a comic strip when he likes but he is also a smart lad.

When I read this out loud to Michael in his kitchen at Greenacres we are both a little shy. “Now I can blush,” he says. Urbane and self-confident, he is suddenly a twenty-year-old, worried about how he is seen by this man he admires: his senior, more mature, less inclined to youthful folly.

“Not at all,” I reassure him. I have already decided to skip the awkward first outing but this, I think, is sweet. He is uncomfortable about the reference to his assessment of the modern girl but glows gently at being described as a “smart lad.”

It is clear that Daddy enjoyed his smartness. He continues: Mike waxed very wrath about one patronizing Englishman who was talking down to him in a very “Lord of the manor” style, telling him if he evah wanted any digging, he would be pleased to supply him with a cup of tea. “Of course I can’t do it myself. My lumbago you know!” Mike is typical of these men in the RAF: they volunteered; they are independent fellows, proud of their choices, proud of what they are doing. They do not enjoy condescension, whether civilian or military. They might cheerfully call themselves Colonials but the hackles rise if the British dare to. And as for indulging some hoity-toity old fart by digging up his garden ... I don’t think so.

Michael has no memory of this self-important fellow who treats him like a labourer and seems puzzled now by his own reaction. Perhaps I should not be bringing these long ago moments up. There is later a cryptic reference to his infatuation with somebody nicknamed by Arthur the Horrible Splendide. I decide not to explore this. What if she was the love of his young life only to discover that his best friend had such a name for her? We don’t know this dignified and hospitable fellow well enough to cast doubt on his youthful taste in women.

In these happier times our father’s diary blossoms, becoming almost lyrical. On this idyllic spring day as they head to Silverstone from Turweston on their bikes, we feel he is content. A bonus, on their arrival at camp, is finding that Bill, their efficient skipper, has reserved beds for them in a hut full of good chaps.

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