In Rememberance of Armistice Day - 1910s (761 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: short_stories
Rating: 1.61 on 34 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Axolotl || ltoloxA (View user info) at 2006-11-10 11:02:33 EST
The sky glowed golden blue, the blades of grass reflecting the encompassing sunlight. Margaret McCoy stepped off of the path onto the fields, and looked out across the landscape, leaning on her shillelagh. Her breathing was shallow, and her heart weary, but she had one last thing to see before her creator called her.
"Nana," said her grandson, putting an arm around her shoulder to ease her. Her hundred-and-six year old joints creaked, but she pushed her grandson off, walking a little further out into the field.
Margaret looked around her, her sharp eyes gazing out at the thousands of white headstones. A hundred years ago this had been green meadows, with farmers plowing, horses and dogs running, and maybe little boys and girls running and laughing in the fields. It was so long ago.
Margaret remembered how it was back when she was a child, how quiet it was, no planes, no cars, no background noise. There was one memory she held onto from that time; sitting with her dad on her porch in the pouring rain, in what was probably the first years of the century. She had been three years old, and her dad was combing her long red hair, singing to her.
"Oh, Mrs. McGrath," the sergeant said
"Would you like to make a soldier out of your son Ted
With a scarlet coat and a big cocked hat
Oh, Mrs. McGrath, wouldn't you like that?"
Now, Mrs. McGrath lived on the shore
For the space of seven long years or more
She spied a ship coming into the bay
With her son from far away"
Margaret's dad had loved when she combed his hair as well. The only memories she had of him were when she combed his hair, all else were vague and faded. One day her dad had asked her to comb his hair, but she said no. He went away, and Margaret never saw him again. They said he died in some foreign land fighting some strange people called the Boers, but she always thought that it was her fault. All she had left of him was his voice echoing through the centuries, and she sobbed silently for the memories lost.
"Oh captain dear, where have you been
You´ve been sailing the Mediterranean
Have you news of my son Ted
Is he living or is he dead?"
Up came Ted without any legs
And in their place, two wooden pegs,
She kissed him a dozen times or two
And said "My god, Ted is it you"
Margaret walked through the graves, finding the one she was looking for. William Garvey, May 24 1897-Nov 5 1916, Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers. She knelt down by the gravesite, touching the white marble and letting her tears burst forth in furious anger and regret.
"Nana...you okay?" her grandson asked.
Margaret nodded, saying softly, "I'm fine, Anthony, I'm fine...just...leave me for one moment."
"Now were you drunk or were you blind
When you left your two fine legs behind
Or was it walking upon the sea
That wore your two fine legs away?"
"No, I wasn't drunk and I wasn't blind
When I left my two fine legs behind
A big cannon ball on the fifth of May
Tore my two fine legs away"
He had only been nineteen. Willy was three years Margaret's senior, but he joined the fall-in in 1916, leaving her behind. Margaret remembered the moments clear as crystal, as though they had happened yesterday, instead of ninety years previously.
"Margaret, love, I'll return. Wait for me, please, Margaret," Willy had begged, his soldier's uniform pressed and ironed as he held her against his body.
"I will, Willy," she said, and she kissed him softly on his boyish lips, her tears streaming down her face like never before. He pulled back, his hands on her waist, and they kissed one final time, so awkward that their wet cheeks bumped one another.
"Goodbye," Willy had said on that beautiful spring day ninety years previously. Margaret touched his gravestone, listening to his final words to her repeat over and over in the vault of her head.
"Goodbye...goodbye, love...goodbye..."
She hoped to God that he had died from a clean shot, that his last moments weren't ones of agony, the medics frantically piercing his veins with heroin and morphine, gagging his voice inaudible over the screams of the guns. That he had not died slowly and obscenely, his life reduced to a dimple in a casualty list at the Somme.
"Oh, Teddyboy," the widow cried
"Your two fine legs were your mothers pride
Stumps of a tree won't do at all
Why didn't you run from the big cannon ball?"
"All foreign wars I do proclaim
live on the blood and the mothers pain
I'd rather have my son as he used to be
Than the King of America and his whole navy"
The bullets were hissing and popping in the ugly mud, the sun above obscured by the clouds of smoke and dust. Willy's dying screams reverberated through the trenches, the fortifications and his thighs blown apart by a high-velocity shell.
Willy moaned and cursed, a three-foot shard of metal sticking from his shredded intestines, the Red Cross medics shot to pieces all around him. He laid flat on the ground, the German bullets hurtling inches from his forehead. His legs were blackened stumps, bleeding, dying on the ground...
They must have beat the drums slowly and played "The Last Post" as they lowered Willy's body down into the cold French clay. He was one of millions, Willy was anonymous, forgotten in all hearts.
All mortal hearts but one.
Willy's face, his laugh, his voice and the beautiful smell of his hair was forever enshrined in the Margaret's mind, as clear as daylight though she had not seen him in nearly a hundred years. She was forever faithful, forever his.
Those sticky hot nights of summer, fumbling hands and hesitant lips were pure in Margaret's mind, his fingers in her hair, now sere and grey. She closed her eyes and brought herself back to a happier time, the sweet summer winds sweeping across the plains of Ireland as she walked with Willy, and Willy walked with her.
Margaret pulled a frame out of her purse and laid it down on Willy's grave with a single rose. Inside the frame was an old photograph, stained with time and ancient. Willy stood with Margaret, his face youthful. Willy was forever nineteen, an eternal ghost torn shrieking from life by a German bullet.
The red poppies danced in the warm summer breeze, their roots dug into the earth that was healing from the gas and barbed wire and the gunfire of the war. Margaret stood up, her intense gaze searching across the countless white crosses mutely staring back.
"I'm ready," Margaret said, taking her grandson's hand and stepping back onto the path, leaving Willy behind, a victim of man's enduring indifference to his fellow man.
"It was a lost generation," Margaret muttered.
"Yeah?" her grandson said softly. "Well, we'll just bring you home, and you can get some rest, all right?"
"None of them knew why they died..." said Margaret, her voice shaky. "Did they really believe this war would end wars..."
"I'm sure they did, Nana. Let's go."
User Reviews
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-17 16:12:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Sepsis (user info) at 2006-11-17 01:12:21 (#)
Ranking: 2
didnt read it
but you like WWI dont you
----
Not especially, this is only my second story on it, and hte last one was last year.
PS post something
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2006-11-17 01:26:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Sepsis (user info) at 2006-11-17 01:12:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
didnt read it
but you like WWI dont you
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-11-14 22:06:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2006-11-12 12:14:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Maybe that's it. Postsecret rocks, I can't wait to read the new book.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-12 10:50:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2006-11-10 15:15:51 (#)
Ranking: 2
Touching and well written. But Ax, I hate to bring this up cos I like you and all, but I know I've read the hair combing thing before....
--------
Postsecret maybe? Similar theme, I just got the book from the library and the story jmuped at me/.
Submitted by Dolson (user info) at 2006-11-11 16:45:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
WOO SPRINGSTEEN!!!
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-11-10 19:05:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-11-10 16:48:15 (#)
Ranking: 2
God gave Noah the rainbow sign
No more water, but fire next time...
-----------
Sinner you better get ready.
-Dave
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-11-10 17:53:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-11-10 16:48:15 (#)
Ranking: 2
God gave Noah the rainbow sign
No more water, but fire next time...
--
Then Jesus jumped up and played the fiddle, singing
Get right with me, or the Devil you'll diddle...
Submitted by Sphagnum (user info) at 2006-11-10 16:59:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-11-10 16:48:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
God gave Noah the rainbow sign
No more water, but fire next time...
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-11-10 15:50:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Mary wore three lengths of chain
On every link was Jesus' name
Pharoah's army got drownéd
O Mary, don't you weep...
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2006-11-10 15:15:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Touching and well written. But Ax, I hate to bring this up cos I like you and all, but I know I've read the hair combing thing before....
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2006-11-10 14:37:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 14:24:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-11-10 12:14:40 (#)
Ranking: 2
Springsteen does a good version of this song on his Seeger Sessions album.
And this:
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:11:25 (#)
Ranking: 0
Did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered ye down?
Got me thinking about this:
Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin
Six dancehall maidens to bear up my pall
Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin
Roses to deaden the clods as they fall
Then beat the drum slowly
Play the fife lowly
Play the dead march as you carry me along
Take me to the green valley
Lay the sod o'er me
I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong
-------------
I love the Seeger Sessions album, it's cool to hear the old songs from hundreds of years ago. My Uncle taught me the ancient Irish and Gaelic songs he heard in Belfast in the 1930s and 1940s, it brings back the memories.
Submitted by Sandecki (user info) at 2006-11-10 13:19:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Great Story
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 12:29:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
and now i must go listen to johnny cash...
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-11-10 12:14:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Springsteen does a good version of this song on his Seeger Sessions album.
And this:
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:11:25 (#)
Ranking: 0
Did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered ye down?
Got me thinking about this:
Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin
Six dancehall maidens to bear up my pall
Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin
Roses to deaden the clods as they fall
Then beat the drum slowly
Play the fife lowly
Play the dead march as you carry me along
Take me to the green valley
Lay the sod o'er me
I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 12:13:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
ax - possibly have relatives in ireland but i'm not sure. and i hate new jersey. sorry, been there, and ick.
jack - i don't plan to get elderly. i will kill myself or have myself killed before i'm shitting myself and drooling in a wheelchair.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:46:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:34:19 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:20:53 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:19:38 (#)
Ranking: 2
you are drunk again aren't you.
you will make a fine senator one day.
-----
Certainly not you frollick young lass, it's only 11.20.
That I certainly will. Move to Jersey and vote for me about twenty years from now.
-----
only bill gates could afford the bribe that would make me move to new jersey. i'm moving to canada, england, ireland. ya know one of those where i get healthcare from my tax dollars.
--------------
Aw, Jersey's a nice place. You get used to the smell.
Ireland is beautiful, you have relatives there? My aunt got sick over there and got free doctor care without any money or citizenship necessary.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:45:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:31:58 (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice, a bit cliche, but nice.
------
Thanks. I liked your series on the different decades, so I'm going to do a short story for each decade in the last 100 years.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:40:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:35:43 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:20:53 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:19:38 (#)
Ranking: 2
That I certainly will. Move to Jersey and vote for me about twenty years from now.
-----
only bill gates could afford the bribe that would make me move to new jersey. i'm moving to canada, england, ireland. ya know one of those where i get healthcare from my tax dollars.
--
Aaaahahahahahahahahaha!!!
You DO realize that the Canadian healthcare system is going down the shitter right now, don't you?
That's why the elderly hop the border to get things done down here - they can't wait eight weeks for something as simple as a mammogram.
Oh, good post, Ax.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:35:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i meant +2 sorry :(
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:34:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:20:53 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:19:38 (#)
Ranking: 2
you are drunk again aren't you.
you will make a fine senator one day.
-----
Certainly not you frollick young lass, it's only 11.20.
That I certainly will. Move to Jersey and vote for me about twenty years from now.
-----
only bill gates could afford the bribe that would make me move to new jersey. i'm moving to canada, england, ireland. ya know one of those where i get healthcare from my tax dollars.
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:31:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice, a bit cliche, but nice.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:20:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:19:38 (#)
Ranking: 2
you are drunk again aren't you.
you will make a fine senator one day.
-----
Certainly not you frollick young lass, it's only 11.20.
That I certainly will. Move to Jersey and vote for me about twenty years from now.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:19:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
you are drunk again aren't you.
you will make a fine senator one day.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:14:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by hugafriend (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:14:29 (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by foster (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:12:15 (#)
Ranking: -2
Wow! Fantastic post, Axolotl!!
------
alter outed
Submitted by hugafriend (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:14:29 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by foster (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:12:15 (#)
Ranking: -2
Wow! Fantastic post, Axolotl!!
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:13:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by foster (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:12:15 (#)
Ranking: -2
Wow! Fantastic post, Axolotl!!
-------
If it makes you feel better, Bret. Of course, having never experienced love, I suppose you can't really relate to this post.
I sure did enjoy your last post!
Submitted by foster (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:12:15 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Wow! Fantastic post, Axolotl!!
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:11:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered ye down?
Did the bugles sing "The Last Post" in chorus?
Did the pipes play "The Flowers of the Forest"?
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:07:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-10 11:02:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Dule and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border;
The English, for ance, by guile wan the day:
The Flowers of the Forest, that foucht aye the foremost,
The prime o' our land are cauld in the clay.
We'll hae nae mair lilting, at the yowe-milking,
Women and bairns are dowie and wae.
Sighing and moaning, on ilka green loaning,
The Flowers of the forest are all wede away.
~The Flowers of the Forest