Heart Of The Country Short Story Collection by Nick Armbrister
SECOND CHANCE
Lisa and Norman met in the war. There story is a unique one and very much their own, one story amongst millions in a world at war. This is what happened to them and how they met.
In a time of war, Norman had done his basic training as an infantryman in the Manchester regiment. This unit was the closest to his small town of Ashton. He joined up and did his bit when his eighteenth birthday came by; still a boy not knowing how to shave or what a woman was. He was young, keen and very inexperienced. A green soldier, who wanted to learn and serve his country, like his mates had done. He was only a kid.
Rifle drill was Norman’s favourite topic, how to load and fire an old Lee Enfield rifle. Handling and stripping the weapon soon became second nature to the young man. He got the knack like his older brother had with many a loose woman, he knew the score and became competent. With women, Norman was the opposite of his brother, being shy, inexperienced and woefully useless. Norman’s brother served in the Royal Navy.
Walking down the parade ground on a quiet Tuesday morning, Norman grumbled to himself. I can handle my rifle with no trouble, strip and assemble it as fast as anyone in my squad, even at night. I can fire accurately at a target five hundred yards away. I’m a good soldier, surely better than any German is. So why do I feel bad? Why am I so bloody depressed? Is it that nice young girl I saw in town the other month when I was in the pub with my buddies? I know she was looking at them and not me. Why would she ever want to look at me? I mean... I’m nothing am I? Just a bloody soldier.
Suddenly it started to rain, this darkened his mood. He spat and swore, glaring down at the black tarmac parade ground. “Bloody rain. Why do I have to do guard duty on a Tuesday morning when my mates are learning about the Bren gun? It’s just me and my rifle out in this bloody rain!”
Norman carried on marching, pacing up and down doing his stint guarding the base. Orders were orders and his turn in the Bren gun class was the following week. He was an intelligent lad and knew he’d get the hang of the powerful weapon. His impatience made him curse the rain, his boss and having to wait for the Bren gun class. Then he thought about the girl again and he cursed again. He aimed a green spittle of phlegm and sent it flying. Bloody rain, bloody guard duty, bloody girl won’t want to date me. Bloody everything!
Up and down he marched, rifle on his shoulder. The rain increased in ferocity.
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Lisa was doing her nurses training. She wanted to serve her country but military roles available to her, were very limited because she was a woman. It was either serving tea or scones at the NAAFI (Navy, Army, Air Force Institute) to men in uniform, working in a grimy dangerous munitions factory or becoming a nurse. She chose the last option and joined on her seventeenth birthday.
With her schooling behind her, Lisa knew what she wanted to do. She was a quick learner but struggled with the varied role of being a nurse though confident in her responsibility. In time she hoped to be qualified and able to make fast life and death decisions. Time would tell but one small distraction troubled her.
I wonder who that quiet shy lad was I saw when we were in the pub. He seemed to notice me and I think he likes me. He looks so dishy! Lisa thought, her eyes becoming misty. She allowed herself to swoon for a while.
The bossy Matron brought the girl back to reality. Classes on how to give wounded soldiers a bed bath were in ten minutes and Matron was demanding everyone be clued up and alert.
Blast it! I’ve got to get ready for this. I hope I see that nice lad again when we’re in town again! I’ll ask him out. I don’t care who sees me, I don’t!
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Guard duty over, Norman relaxed in his barrack block with his mates. As usual, the topic was bints and who had slept with the most women. Norman kept out of this talk and as usual, this gave the more seasoned worldly-wise men a chance to take the mickey and put him down. It wasn’t his fault he was a virgin!
“Hey Norman, is it true that you’re a virgin?”
“Do you want to shag my mother Nornam? She likes younger men!”
“Do you know how to do it?”
“Have you even kissed a girl?”
They taunted him mercilessly but he ignored them, though he wanted to cry. Not being a fighter or even tough, Norman sat there in silence reading a dog eared Bren gun manual. He didn’t want to use his close quarter hand to hand fighting training, not against his mates even though they took the piss out of him. Give me a Bren gun and I’ll show them, he angrily thought. He took their petty jokes.
“You won’t find out about birds in that book Norman. Here’s a rude magazine for you,” shouted one of the lads, throwing a tatty stained mag of dubious subject matter.
Norman never even glanced up at the lad or over to the rude magazine, which was open on the floor. A curvy brunette smiled from the page, her assets were on show and it was obvious she wasn’t shy.
Seeing that their taunts weren’t fazing Norman, the other soldiers left him be. He read the manual on the Bren gun but his thoughts were elsewhere, on a certain girl.
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