The lost years
Mark and James had been friends
since school; they had been through all the usual teen angst of girlfriends and
losing them and had always been best mates. They had a trust borne out of years
of not telling lies, so when Mark told James he had seen a ghostly form, there
was no reason for Mark not to believe him, yet a ghost, and could this be true?
“I tell you I DID see it
Mark!”James said. “I saw the ghost as clear as I see you sitting on the bed
now.”
“Okay, let us go through what you saw and try
to find the reasons for it. I'm not saying I don't believe you.
“But you are not saying you do
either are you.”
“Let’s just say I have an open mind
on the subject, as we have no proof either way yet.”
“If I do prove it, then will you believe
it?”
“Of course I will, once we get proof
one way or the other. What did you see?”
“I was coming back along the old
footpath by Mr. Darlow’s farm, when I thought I saw a man ahead, he looked as
if he was either drunk, or very ill.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“The way he was tottering from side
to side as he walked, when I got close to him I could hear he was mumbling to
himself. When I asked if I could help, he turned and looked right through me!”
“I have to admit, that IS creepy James! Did you notice anything odd about him? Like his clothes.”
“Yes. He was wearing an old USAAF uniform
and his hands seemed badly burned, so bad he couldn't close them.”
“Where did you see him?”
“I was about half a mile down the
lane, where the hedgerow turns left and the main road joins the side road from
the old vicarage.”
“Was it night time, when he
appeared?”
“No, it was about 4:30 last night, in
full light and plenty of sun.”
“That makes it even more peculiar,
ghosts are usual at dusk or in the dark. You said he was muttering to himself,
could you understand anything he was saying?”
“I couldn't quite get what he was on
about, he just kept mentioning names and I have never heard of them, which made
no sense, as we know almost everyone here, as Marshmere is such a small
village.”
“It does seem so strange, now you
mention it, daylight, about half a mile down the lane from Mr. Darlow’s farm. I
have no doubts now, you did see something but what it was and why there is a mystery to me?”
“This definitely requires further
investigating, James. Now you have piqued my interest, you know I can't rest,
until we find more about this man of yours.”
“Me too, this has to mean something
to someone or else what is he doing showing up there?”
Days passed, Mark and James spent
hours in the library going over the town history and only drew blanks, things
were not looking hopeful when out of nowhere a note fell from a book.
“Mark look at this!” James said excitedly as he picked
the paper up.
The letter had a USAAF letterhead,
and was dated 10th October 1943 and read:-
“Dearest Joanna, I fear we shall never meet
again, as I am being transferred to another unit, which has taken heavy losses,
in the last weeks. Please believe that if we do not meet again I will forever
love you
Yours, loving
you always
Dick xxxxxx”
“Do you think, this Dick, is who you
saw and he is looking for Joanna now?”
“He could well be. But this still does not answer what he was doing
going into the field at that point I saw him?”
“I know, that is what is so intriguing.
This opens new fields of research for us now, the more we find out, the less we
know. We know he was an American, here during the war but after that it is a
complete mystery.”
“All we have is a love letter to
Joanna, from her Dick, telling her that he feels he will not see her again.
Where do we go now?”
“We can start at the town hall
records office, Mark, and see if they know Joanna.”
The boys went for the short walk to
the town records, where they met a most uncooperative clerk, until they
mentioned the letter and Joanna. Then things took an even weirder turn of fate,
as she told them the story. “My name is Jocelyn Diana Richmond, my late
grandmother always told me of an American airman she loved, and the family
always thought he must have left one last love letter but we never knew where
it might be.”
Mark
asked a question “Is your grandmother still alive Miss Richmond?”
“No, she died about five years ago,
never knowing of the letter but always believing it existed. They loved each
other so much; she knew Dick would not just leave without letting her know.”
“We think James may have seen Dick
recently, he saw a ghostly figure walking along the footpath to Darlow’s farm
and then it turned into the fields, just before the old vicarage.”
“That is a bit odd.”
“Why?” asked James.
“If it is Dick and he is looking for
my grandmother, he is on the wrong side
of town over there.”
“There's no guarantee it is him, all
I saw was an American airman’s uniform from behind,” James replied.
“And at the time he would have been
here, that was just open space, where the farm is now.”
“Maybe, he is returning to the old
airfield and is going through where the gates used to be.” Mark commented.
“No, all records show the base was
about four miles out of town, so even if that was a back gate, he is well off
course there.” James said.
Jocelyn got up from her desk and
said “I think we'll have to have a chat with a few of the older folks, maybe
they can shed some light on this.”
The boys said in unison “Agreed.”
Mark added “I said to James earlier,
the more we find out, the less we know.”
James replied “At least we are
making progress. We have found Joanna’s granddaughter and we know he wasn't
going to either the base or to see his love. There is still the mystery of what
was he doing there?”
That night in the local pub, with
the darts match on against local rivals Petercove, all the talk was as usual on
the weekend soccer fixtures, and the upcoming fair. In a corner, secreted away
a small group were heavily in chatter on a totally different topic, in the
group were Mark, James, Jocelyn, Jocelyn’s mother, Mr. Thomas-the butcher and
Peter Francis-the local historian.
Mr. Francis was the man to shed the
most light on the subject when he spoke. “According to what you have told me
James, and with my knowledge of the history of the village, I can say I am
almost sure that your visitor was part of the second raid on Schweinfurt iron
works. This raid became known as “Black
Thursday” as the 305th USAAF
bomb group took 85 % losses.”
“That is so terrible, such a loss of
young lives.” Jocelyn said with a tear in her eyes, remembering her grandmother
and all the other girls who must have lost loved ones. “Especially when you
consider most of the crews average ages were under 24. I know, we saw Memphis
Belle on TV recently, it was such a lovely film,” Jocelyn said.
“That was a load of codswallop, Jocelyn.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Francis what do you mean?’ Jocelyn said,
looking shocked at the turn of phrase from a man she had respected, since her
schooldays.
“It was a movie romance. If you want
the real film, find the William Wyler documentary on the History channel, he
shot that in the Belle on a raid and you can feel the winds shooting through.”
Jocelyn's mother, feeling this could
end up moving off the subject in question asked “If he isn’t looking for his
lover, or the base. What do we think he
is going back for?”
For the first time, since they met
that night Don Thomas spoke “I know or at least have a good idea. Back when I
was a boy, I heard a plane go down about there, there was such a crash. I
thought there was an earthquake, shop windows broke and the air shook for half
an hour with the explosion.”
Peter added to the conversation
“That would also explain, why Mr. Darlow has never got anything to grow there
either. All that fuel has been leaching into his soil and killing the crops.”
“Do you think, he has been seen
before now, Mr. Francis?” asked Mark.
“Certainly he has young Mark, there
are numerous accounts of sightings going back to the late fifties, usually just
a glimpse or a half sight out of the corner of the eye. This is the first
solid, if you will excuse the pun, sighting.”
The group had a laugh at the pun, as
they drank their beers.
“Why did I get the chance to see him
in the daylight?” James asked.
“Probably, he could sense, that
rather than just thinking “Oh yes, there he is again, poor man,” like
most people. You might try and find something, to put his soul at peace
finally.”
“I don’t know if we can do that but we will try our best for him.”
The group agreed to meet the next
week at the house of Mary Jacobs, the villagers were a bit wary of Mary, she
had powers to talk to spirits and dealt with herbal medicines never trying
anything non-natural, she always said. “My old Ma always said, if the Lord
wanted to heal us, he would give us the means and he did with the fruits and
herbs of the roadside.”
Although
a bit odd and shunned by some, Mary had a strong following in the village. Some
thought because she talked to spirits, that she was a witch, they thought it
better keep on her good side. Others saw her for what she was, an old lady who
had seen many things, who was willing to pass her knowledge on to other like
minded people.
On the appointed day, the group
arrived. Welcomed by Mary dressed in her longest flowing robe of dark blue,
with yellow flowers and a moon on the right shoulder.”Hello Mary, how are you
my old dear?’ the warm and friendly voice of Mr. Thompson broke the quiet.
“I am fine, thanking you Donny
Thompson. I hear tell you wish to contact the other worlds.”
“That's right, we have a couple of
questions to ask a spirit from World War two, Mary” Mr. Francis replied to the
question.
“We shall have no troubles there, as
the veil of time is not long.”
“But it is over sixty years Mary,
isn’t that too long?” Mark was amazed at Mary’s statement.
“Young Mark, I have been in contact
with the spirits of people who died centuries ago. To them time is a door to
pass through, the longer the time, the heavier the door but most will come
through.”
“You said
most!” Jocelyn
queried.
“Yes. For some the distance between
them and us is too great to cross. Did you bring the letter?”
“Yes. Here it is, sorry it isn’t
much to work with.” Jocelyn said apologetically.
“Don't worry; as long as he touched it,
his spirit is there. It maybe a book, handkerchief, or a letter, as long as
they touch it, we can try to contact them.”
Mary put the candle on the table, as
she moved across she lit the candle with a wooden taper, as she stood up she
let her arms drop to the sides of her body. “Mark, can you turn the lights off
please,” she said as her voice faded away.
The room darkened and Mary stood
still. The group thought that they could hear the sounds of gunfire around
them, smell the cordite, and hear the cries of the wounded airmen. Then in the
midst of all this mayhem Mary spoke, but it was not her voice. “Frankie, Dave, take Ron to the bomb bay,
strap a chute on him and get the hell outta here, she wont last much longer,
and I'll give you whatever we can, just jump, that is an order, hope to see you
down there soon!”
As they listened they could hear the
engines stuttering as the crew bailed out, the captain tried all he knew to
keep her up for as long as possible, then there was an explosion and Mary
yelled in an agony never heard before or since, as the skin on her hands
appeared to blister and peel in the
heat.
“Richard Farmer, there are people
who wish to ask some questions of you. Will you answer them?”
“If I can I shall, Mary.”
James
asked first. “Why did you let me see you?”
The firm voice of Richard Farmer
replied “I felt you were the right person to contact, to give me some peace
James. I thought you and Mark would be willing to look for the links that
others had ignored.”
Peter Francis asked next. “Are you
looking for your friends from the war, the ones who got out before the fire?”
“No. They're here with me, as is
your grandmother Jocelyn. We finally got together, our love never died.”
“Why have you come back then?”
queried Jocelyn.
“Even though we can see and hear
each other every day, we still cannot be with each other. My spirit is buried
in the plane’s fuselage; I was never freed from the wreck. I need that to
happen, for me to finally pass over.”
As he finished telling his story,
the candle flickered, Mary awoke, her hands untouched. The only difference, she
was sweating a lot. “Did I help you?” she asked.
“You did, thank you so much, Mary.”
Jocelyn replied.
“It's always a pleasure. To know
some people so value me, love.” Mary added.
After some weeks of discussion with
the local history club, Peter finally got their permission to dig the site.
There in the cockpit, was the body of an airman, burned to a charred remnant,
hands curled to his face. They careful took his body out and put him to rest
next to the others of his crew who died that day. James only saw the ghost of Dick Farmer once
more. At the same spot as before, Dick winked, waved and walked through the
hedgerow, and was never seen again.
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