A birthday belated for war
Lucie was humming as she came downstairs to prepare breakfast.
She smiled at herself. Under normal circumstances the arrival of
her 50th birthday would not have been a joyful occasion but her
husband had returned the previous night after months of
separation.
A birthday belated for war
Lucie was humming as she came downstairs to prepare breakfast. She smiled at herself. Under normal circumstances the arrival of her 50th birthday would not have been a joyful occasion but her husband had returned the previous night after months of separation.
She thought back to when they had met so many years earlier. He was an Army cadet and she, a girl in her teens. But they enjoyed rapport from the very beginning. He was so serious about everything, she remembered, but was especially thoughtful of her. Lucie’s father, a wealthy merchant, had opposed the match because the young people were from different classes in society. And like many fathers, he privately thought no one was good enough for his daughter.
However, he relented as the other’s character became more evident and gave his blessing.
But the young man was adamant about not marrying her until he was able to support her. Their engagement was announced and Lucie hoped that it would prove to be a short one.
Instead, the war came and he thought it prudent to postpone the nuptials, as he did not want to risk leaving her a widow. He was sent into a combat zone where his valor and quick mind won him medals – and a number of wounds.
As the war continued, they decided to get married. With the world in an uproar they seized what happiness they could find. After the war finally ended, they settled into the routine of an army officer’s life.
Even though peacetime service did not offer the same opportunity for promotion as war did, her husband did well. The men who served under him admired him and his colleagues respected him. His superiors saw a bright future.
The only sad note was the lack of children. But then on Christmas Eve, 12 years after their marriage, they were blessed with a healthy son.
Now that son was a boy of 15 who yearned to be a soldier like his father. She had instructed him to say nothing about that for the short time his father would be home.
Then he came downstairs with another kiss for her and a hug for their son, and the three of them sat down for a rare meal together. Talk was about many things, with no one mentioning the current war, and then father and son brought out presents for Lucie. She wept happy tears and kissed them both.
The telephone rang and she answered it. “It’s for you,” she said. He identified himself, then stiffened. “I’ll leave immediately.” He turned to Lucie with a few words of explanation, then packed quickly. “What a fool I was,” he said as he left the house.
Whether or not his presence would have made a difference was a moot point by the time Field Marshal Erwin Rommel arrived back at Normandy on June 6, 1944 as the Allied invasion forces had gained footholds on the beaches and were already striking inland.
