COLONEL RYAN OPENED the small box on his desk and stared at the red-ribboned medal within which depicted a lion on a crown with its understated inscription, 'For Valour'. With great care, he extracted it from the box and turned it over. On the reverse side, it had the date of the act for which the decoration had been bestowed. So too the name, rank, and regiment of the recipient. He handled it lovingly knowing he, himself, would never be the winner of such. It was every soldier's dream, of course, to possess one although most recipients never survived to enjoy their fame. He knew the history of the medal well. Cast in bronze (the original metal used being from Russian guns captured in the Crimean War), it was the highest decoration for valour in the British armed forces, awarded only for extreme bravery in the face of the enemy. Queen Victoria instigated it in 1856 at the request of her consort, Prince Albert; the first Crosses having been awarded during the Crimean War. The Colonel was also aware that only one thousand, three hundred and forty-eight Victoria Crosses had ever been awarded since the honour was instituted and this was now the one thousand, three hundred and forty-ninth and the man he was about to confront was the recipient.
The powers that be had argued long and hard before making their decision. They were aware that they were breaking with tradition, yet a precedent had been set in 1858. Then, new statutes allowed the Victoria Cross to be conferred to members of the armed services for gallantry when not in the presence of the enemy in war. Captain Lechaim Francis Lewis had thus been awarded the Victoria Cross, a medal of such prestige that it took pride of place over all other orders and medals in Britain. From now on, Captain Lewis would be entitled to add the letters 'VC' after his name.
There would be an official ceremony at Buckingham Palace, of course, where the Queen would present him with the medal but Colonel Ryan had been designated the task of informing Captain Lewis personally. He was also allowed to show the captain the medal he was about to be bestowed with.
The knock on his office door brought the Colonel back from his trip through history. He placed the medal back in its case and called out. “Come in!”
Captain Lewis entered and saluted. “No Captain, from now on it is I that should salute you first! Please sit down!”
As Lechaim sat down, the Colonel could not help but notice the physical deterioration that had taken place in the soldier before him. No longer the officer the Colonel knew two months ago, the captain was now gaunt from loss of weight and he had shadows under his eyes. It was almost as though he were wasting away, the Colonel thought. Of course, the death of his wife would account for it. His grief-filled eyes and the disinterest in his face bore evidence of that.
“Captain Lewis! It is my great honour to inform you that you have been awarded the Victoria Cross!” He then paused to observe the other man's response but he had not bargained for what came next.
“Why, sir?”
The Colonel was taken aback by the man's question and it took him some seconds to recover. “Why!” he echoed. “For your actions at the abbey, of course! What you did was more than worthy of such an award.”
The other man remained silent for a while and then he said, “I think you should know, sir, I am resigning from the Army.”
Again the Colonel found himself repeating the other man, as he exclaimed, “Resigning!” He sat back in his chair and surveyed Lechaim before saying kindly, “Lechaim, I know you suffered a great loss, what with the death of your wife and all, but why resign? Your future in the army is assured. Don’t you realize that you are now the British Army's most famous living soldier?”
Not even the slightest interest registered in the other man's eyes as he replied, “I have no wish to be that, sir!”
“I can understand your grief, Captain, but your resignation won't bring your wife back. You have a wonderful career ahead of you in the Army. Why throw it all away?”
Anger touched the other man's eyes briefly and then it was gone.
The Colonel was at a loss as to what to say next. More than three months had elapsed since Captain Lewis had fought at the abbey, and nearly two months since his wife’s death. His feat at the abbey that night had been repeatedly discussed in the media to the point where it was now old news. Unfortunately, his gallant act had done little to help any peace talks taking place which had now reached an inevitable stalemate as had the many proceeding them. Other stories filled the headlines now, and Captain Lewis' story, including the tragic death of his wife, was slowly fading into people's memories. Captain Lewis' attitude hadn't assisted his cause with his stubborn refusal to be interviewed by the press. The award of the Victoria Cross would now impose fresh demands on him as far as the Press and public were concerned, the Colonel knew. Surely he must realize that he thought as he stared at the man before him. He finally said, “Why not take a holiday instead of resigning and return to the Army when you're ready?”
Lechaim did not answer so he went on, “You know, Captain, you'll never be able to escape from yourself no matter where you go! Here in the Army, at least, you could expect to live as normal a life as is possible in the circumstances. Besides, you're a soldier. What else is there for you?”
Lechaim considered the Colonel’s words before he responded.
“I'm not sure sir. I only know I must find my future somewhere else. I don't believe it lies here in Ireland or in the Army!”
“You will be staying for the investiture?”
“Investiture?”
“Yes! Friday, the sixteenth of August, to be exact, Buckingham Palace at ten in the morning!” Colonel Ryan replied, “Although that’s unofficial for now. You'll be officially notified by mail, in the next few days. The time and date of the investiture will be confirmed at the same time! Incidentally, the Queen herself will be presenting you with the medal!”
Christ! Would he never escape his fame he thought as he found himself replying, “It’s an honour I don’t deserve, Sir, but I will be pleased to accept it on behalf of the regiment.”
“Very good! Well, that’s it then! I believe that will be all for now.” The Colonel then rose to his feet and walked around the desk as Lechaim rose to his feet.
“If you should change your mind about resigning,” the Colonel said as he placed his hand on Lechaim’s shoulder in a fatherly way, “please let me know at once. Personally, I believe you are making a mistake but it's your decision, no one else's.” He thought for a moment longer and then asked, “What do you intend to do when you leave the Army?”
“To begin with, I'm going to the Philippines to visit some friends and then I'm not sure! Play it by ear, I guess!”
The Colonel looked doubtful. “How do you intend to get out there? To the Phillippines, that is?”
“I hadn't thought about it really?”
“You realize what will happen if you fly out on a regular airline. The press will hound you all the way.” The Colonel, himself, had been the target of a few reporters of late who wanted to learn more about the Captain and saw the Colonel as a likely source. On that score they were mistaken. However, they had pursued him to the point where he now had his calls monitored. The press, therefore, was not exactly the Colonel's 'flavour of the month' at this point in time.
Whilst Captain Lewis was considering the Colonel's words, Colonel Ryan expounded further, “If you like, I'll see what I can do for you. I have a contact in the US Air Force. They have regular flights to Manila! I may be able to get you on one of their flights!”
“That's very kind, sir. I would certainly appreciate that!”
The Colonel walked Lechaim to the door and both men shook hands. Lechaim could not help but remember the last time he had shaken hands with the Colonel and the resulting mayhem that followed.
When Captain Lewis had gone, Colonel Ryan returned slowly to his desk and sat staring out the window. Great Scott! He had forgotten to show the man his medal and thought for a moment about calling him back. However, he knew it would be pointless. The captain's disposition suggested that he would not appreciate the recall to view a medal that he seemed to have no interest in. “A great pity!” the Colonel murmured, “A great pity!”