SHAUN OPENED HIS eyes but it took him a while to move. Painfully, he slowly extracted himself from the remains of the hedge and looked around at the carnage. The armoured car was in its death throes, its frame burning like a well-fuelled furnace. There was a sickly sweet smell in the air which he deduced with a shudder was burning flesh. He had never been in the presence of death before. Now, lying around him were pieces of what, until a short time before, had been living breathing human beings just like him. Now they were unrecognizable as such.
Shaun began to search the area for signs of life but all he found were remains with few distinguishing features, a hand here, a leg there, once a charred head. Some raw flesh was also on display like meat in a butcher's shop except that much of this was already precooked. Finally, he sank down at the edge of the lane and vomited violently. That was when he saw the captain's body lying in the bottom of the ditch. Climbing down, Shaun pulled the body on its back and shook the man for signs of life. At first Shaun thought the man was dead until he opened his eyes for a moment and stared into his, then he closed them again. Shaun had escaped injury due mainly to the fact that the captain had been between him and the vehicle. However, while Shaun was relatively unscathed, the man in the ditch was a mass of injuries. Shaun felt he had to do something. He had no hatred for the English although he felt with a passion that they had no right to be in Ireland. Being a compassionate man by nature, all he saw now was another human being in need. Irish, English or whatever, it would have made no difference. He tried to lift and drag the big man up from the ditch but the soldier was just too heavy. He knew then that he would have to go for help.
Further down the lane the group of people that had congregated outside their houses stood for some time, uncertain what to do. Collectively, they had been trying to decide the best course of action for more than half an hour. In the end, the issue was settled for them when Shaun came limping into view. Until he had started making his way home, Shaun hadn't realized that he had been hurt. Apart from aching in every joint, or so it seemed, he had heavy bruising on one of his legs and a deep gash in the other, which made his journey home decidedly uncomfortable.
Maureen on seeing him ran forward to greet him with concern in her eyes. She was not one to demonstrate her emotions but for once she hugged him gently. Sinead was not so inhibited, hugging her father forcibly.
“Steady girl!” he protested as his bruised ribs made their presence felt.
“Are you hurt, dah?” Sinead asked as he drew back.
“Are you all right Shaun?” Maureen then inquired.
Shaun, although feeling somewhat embarrassed by such a show of emotions from his wife and daughter in front of his neighbours, felt a warm glow at their demonstration of affection. He responded quickly, “No, I'm all right but there's a soldier back there in a bad way. I need some help with him”
“Leave him there! Let him rot!” a charitable soul among them retorted.
“English or not, he's still a man!” Shaun responded angrily. “Now, who's going to help me?”
“Aye, I'll go,” Ray Kenny said. “We can use my car.”
“No! Best not,” Shaun replied. “It might not be safe if the Brits find us on the road in a car.” Then he added, “They may think we're responsible! We'll walk!”
“Right, Shaun! Good thinking,” Ray Kenny agreed.
“Let someone else go, Shaun!” Maureen said. “You've been hurt. There are plenty of men here.”
“No! I'd better show them where the soldier is. They may have trouble finding him otherwise.”
Maureen wasn't convinced but she knew Shaun well enough to know that once he had made his mind up, he wouldn’t budge. As the two men set off down the lane two others quickly joined them. Maureen and Sinead watched them disappear around the bend, then Sinead sprang into action.
“Come on!” she urged. “We’ll get ready for them!” She was a nurse in Belfast and therefore well versed in emergencies. Her days and nights in a Belfast hospital were full of them as she dealt with the many victims of sectarian bigotry that this part of the world constantly threw up.
The two women went back into the house and Sinead retrieved her first aid box from a cupboard under the stairs. The kitchen would be the best place to put an injured man they both decided and they prepared accordingly.
It was almost thirty minutes before the men arrived back with the wounded soldier. At Sinead’s bidding, they carried the big man into the Cronins' kitchen where they placed him on the wooden table that had been stripped by Sinead for this purpose. She quickly felt for a pulse. None! Reaching inside the remnants of his torn battle dress, she felt for a heartbeat. None!
“He's dead , dah!” she whispered as she turned to her father.
“Never mind dear, you did your best,” Maureen said to Shaun as she took his arm. “Let's go into the front room and leave him in peace.” A silent throng pressed forward into the kitchen to see the dead man for themselves but Shaun and Maureen soon ushered them out again.
“Come on, love!” Shaun said as he waited for Sinead at the door. “There's nothing you can do for him now!”
“I know, dah! I'll be along in the minute!”
After her father had gone, Sinead stood looking down at the lifeless soldier for a while longer. Then she went to the kitchen sink and poured some water from one of the taps into a dish that had been lying on the draining board. Returning with the dish and a small sponge she had found in one of the kitchen drawers, she proceeded to wash the blood off his face. He was cold to the touch but even in death he was magnificent, she thought. Lacerated as his face had been by the wound in his cheek, he still had a profound physical effect on her. She could see that he had been remarkably handsome in life with thick blond hair now matted in blood. She had seen death many times before and always found it disturbing, but never more so than now. Somehow, for her, his death seemed very personal.
The tears welled up in her eyes as she looked down at him. The sheer size of his muscular frame seemed somehow incongruous in the absence of any life force. "What kind of man had he been? Had he been married? Did he have a wife and children that would mourn him? What had his name been? How old was he?"
All these questions buzzed around in her head as she wondered about him. This vital man that had been living just a little while before and now was no more. Suddenly, she had a thought. Searching through the uniform beneath the torn battledress, she found a wallet in one of the torn pockets. So that was his name, she thought as she came across the identification card inside.
She read his name aloud. “Lechaim Francis Lewis” She then added softly to herself. “You had a grand name to be sure”.
He also had a photograph inside his wallet of a middle-aged woman. His mother perhaps? He didn't have a photograph of anyone else, which Sinead thought strange. No wedding ring on his finger so perhaps he wasn't married. "Yet, surely such a man as he would have a young woman somewhere that loved him?"
“Com'on, Sinead!” the voice from the doorway insisted. Her mother had returned to the kitchen because she wanted to find out what was keeping her daughter from joining the others in the other room.
“Okay mum!” Sinead replied and replaced his wallet with its contents back into the pocket of his uniform. Before leaving however, she took one more look at the man lying on the table. His eyes were partly opened and the blood from his wounds had suffused them so they looked like balls of red flames. The gash in his cheek could not debase the handsome face that she would always remember. Even in death he bewitched and captivated her. Her eyes settled on the burns to his thigh. It looked as though a branding iron had been applied to the flesh there. Finally, she switched off the light and quietly closed the door behind her
The Cronins' front room had already filled with people eager to discuss the night's events. Sinead joined in but her mind was elsewhere as she pictured him in the kitchen, lifeless and alone. She had seen people die often in her line of work. "Why did his death have such a pronounced effect on her?" She fought back the tears that threatened to flow, and she tried to divert her thoughts by seeking out her father who still looked a little shaken.
“It's a shame about him then,” he said indicating with a nod of his head in the direction of the kitchen.
“You did your best, dah! I'm proud of you!” she whispered.
Shaun blustered. “Anyone would have done the same in the circumstances my girl!”
She kissed him on the cheek affectionately and replied, “In this bloody country, dah. I think not!”
He was startled by the vehemence in her voice and the word “bloody” she had used. He had never heard her swear before and it threw him off balance. Whilst he was still contemplating what she had said, she went on, “Listen, dah, the ambulance should be here shortly. Mum phoned for one for him!” she said indicating with her hand to the kitchen. “You should really go with them and get checked over!”
“Not a bit of it. my girl!” he insisted. “I'm staying here with you two. Besides, I'm hungry. I could do with something to eat!”
"Good old dah", she thought. "No matter what the crisis, he's always thinking of his stomach!"
“Okay dah! I'll warm up your dinner as soon as they've taken him away.” She knew it was pointless pressing a man that had never seen the inside of a hospital in his life and didn't intend to.
The babble of conversation within the room was suddenly interrupted by a crash from the kitchen. The tension, which had eased considerably, now returned as they all stared at the kitchen door, which was slowly opening. Transfixed, they could only stare incredulously at the soldier that appeared in the doorway moments later. Lingering there briefly, he supported himself shakily against the doorframe, before pitching forward to the floor.
No one moved with the exception of Pauline Murphy, a young girl of sixteen with a predilection for fainting spells. This time she had something to faint about and she promptly did. Sinead was the first person in the room to react. Darting forward to the soldier's side she shouted out, “Quickly mum! The brandy!”
The prone body of Pauline Murphy, which had landed next to the soldier's, was promptly transferred to the lounge sofa, then everyone gathered around the man that had come back to life.
“But I thought you said that he was dead?” Maureen asked, her voice trembling, her pulse racing rapidly as she tried to deal in her own mind with his miraculous resurrection.
“Mum! Please! The brandy!” Sinead pleaded but it was Shaun who reacted, “I know where it is! I'll get it!”
On his return, Shaun bent down and lifted the soldier's head while Sinead placed the bottle to his lips. Suddenly, his eyes opened and met hers, and she found herself drowning in limpid pools of blue.