A journalist's journal
It was such a peaceful sunny day, and I had to work. But this was certainly not an average day. Usually, I just do my job waiting for it to end. But today, it was the most interesting job a person could ever do. I was surprised when my boss gave me that assignment. He said that it would be interesting to have someone who was in Second World War and talk about it. Memories from sixth grade started popping out in my brain. I felt like I was excitingly waiting in front of the classroom for the class to begin. The subject I was waiting for was History. Almost all students disliked the teacher’s presence, but for some students, including me, she was the only person that was a real teacher in the whole school. She was the only one who truly wanted us to learn.
"Are you here?" the boss asked me.
"I apologize. When you started talking, I was suddenly lost in my memories." I replied.
After he finished explaining, I took my suitcase and started driving through the old part of London. I was driving my bike unusually slowly, because I am usually the one who rushes to finish everything as quickly as possible. While I was driving, I enjoyed looking at the Victorian buildings. Memories quickly started popping out again. All those buildings reminded me of my school. It was fascinating to see how everything was like artwork before. Every detail was important back then. Now, houses are almost hollow cubes with windows and doors. My school was one of those gorgeous Victorian buildings. It had windows that were a masterpiece by itself. Every one of them had different ornaments and you could easily see that it was made with patience and love. Then the doors, I just couldn’t resist observing all the details that were carved out of walnut tree. On every corner you could see a statue with a soul. I continued to drive down the street when I finally got to the St. Charles’ Hospital. When I saw those rooftops, I was baffled. The Hospital had all those Victorian qualities a building could have. When I stepped inside, I could hear some faint sounds of people talking. The Hospital was mostly dark, then I saw a woman rushing in my direction. She had a very unsettling presence. She had a facial expression like she wanted to kill me. The nurse asked me if she could help.
"I am looking for the Thames Ward" I replied. She guided me to the Ward and said: "People who are not specialized doctors have forbidden access to room 11."
I said I needed to visit room number 14. I started heading to the room and opened the door. The patient was asleep. Soon, a nurse came and woke him up even though I was telling her not to because I have all the time in the world. She quickly ran out as she realized he was slowly waking up. She looked terrified and the fear quickly overcame me. When he was fully awake, he started yelling at me because he apparently thought I woke him up.
"Who do you think you are, idiot! You are apparently brave enough to interrupt my dreams, huh! Say something! " he yelled.
At that moment I felt like quitting the assignment was the only right thing to do. But somehow, I replied calmly: "Look, I am not here to bother you for no reason. I am here to do my job. If you plan to behave like this, the procedure will take longer. So, I encourage you to calm down and collaborate with me. Both of our lives will be easier if you just accept my presence."
He was staring into the void and after some time he said: "I shall not sacrifice my status in the hospital and just like that become your slave!"
"I am alright with that." I replied calmly.
Both of us were just being there quietly, he looked miserable. "Pulling information from him will be harder than pulling freshly grown teeth." I thought. Then, a miracle happened. He started talking about something. But I certainly couldn’t understand it. I asked him about his dreams. He just stared into the void like he had all the misery of this world on his back. I started packing my stuff and preparing to go but when I touched the door, he yelled: "Don’t you dare come out of this room! " then he continued with a calm and depressed voice: "My family had abandoned me here a long time ago. Since then, I had no visitors besides the nurses. "
We talked about some things. We mostly criticized society. But when I tried to ask him about the War, he didn’t want to talk about it. He said he would talk about that the next time I visit. Afterwards, we talked for about an hour. I asked him if he wanted me to bring him something, but he said: "No."
When I got home, I just sat down and thought about all the things that happened.
The Storytelling
When I came again the next day, he was sleeping. But this time I told the nurse: "Don’t wake him up." She just apathetically walked past me. I supposed she perceived me.
In his room, I was just existing for some time. When I finally decided to move, I opened his night closet. Inside, he had a bunch of things that shocked me. The one that shocked me the most was his diary. It had survived the War. When I decided to open it, a nurse came inside and brought him a meal. On my way home, I thought about all the stuff he had in his closet.
It is six ‘o clock in the evening, and I am just wondering what could be written in a soldier’s diary. Maybe it could be some information that only a few people know about. But I am going to find out very soon if everything goes right. The diary looked interesting, however… There was an object that was calling for my attention. In his closet, there was a watch. The watch didn’t show time correctly for some reason, and it had a date written on it. I couldn’t remember the date. The only thing I know is the month. February. I need to ask him about that.
When I visited him the next day, he was awake. He was not just awake; he was reading his diary. I have a feeling that this is the day when my real job begins. When I asked him why he was awake, he replied: "I had a terrible dream, in which I was wearing a gas mask. I was in a trench with a bunch of other people and just out of nowhere. Sorry, but I can’t remember what happened next. I just remember that it was horrifying and I just couldn’t stand watching it. "
I asked him: "Could I take a look at your diary so I could just see..."
"No" he interrupted before I finished my question. "The only thing you can is listen to me." I nodded in agreement.
Then he started talking: " It was the day I will regret even in the afterlife. I was born in 15 of March 1915. When I was sixteen, I was disappointed because I haven’t been in the First World War. But in 1939, when I heard a war declaration, I franticly signed in."
" Why did you sign in?" I asked.
" I thought I would be honored. At first, I was excited. But as time went on, my wish to return home was rising. I was afraid for my family because London was bombarded constantly. I had a pregnant wife who needed help and support, and I was waiting in the trenches. Not so long after I got to France, I got a letter. In a nutshell, the letter said that my wife had died in birth and my child was sent to an orphanage. After I read that, my whole life fell apart. I started to hate everything that had even the slightest connection to war." He looked at me like he was going to add something, but he stared into the void for some time and said: " I don’t want to continue talking. "
Then a nurse came: "You need to leave now, sir."
When I got home, I hugged my wife like never before. The next day she asked me to go to the park with her, so I didn’t visit the old man. Everything in the park looked like paradise after I heard his stories. When we returned home, I realized that piece is worthless. You can’t pay for it.
When I visited the old man, he was holding that watch in his hand. I asked him about it and he said: " I had a friend there. I could say he was the only friend that could be called a friend. And I met a lot of people in my life." He said sorrowfully. "I guess destiny decided that way. "
"What happened to him? Can I visit him?" I asked.
"The only place you can find him is the graveyard. We were walking and he stepped on a landmine. His leg blew up. I tried to stop the bleeding, and I even did something to temporarily stop it. But it was too late. He got a bacterial infection and died. I could just imagine what he was going through. I felt like my life lost its meaning. I have lost everything. My friends, family, I even lost my child "He said miserably." If this will ever be published, please say that this is the perfect example of a wasted life. I feel like I am leaving this world sooner or later, so let me tell you the rest of my life story."
I continued to listen to him attentively.
"About two months later, I got my leg amputated because of a grenade and I was sent home. My leg still hasn’t recovered, and it has been a long time since then."
I didn't know what to say. My heart felt heavy.
"I hope people will learn something from this."
Saying this, he fell asleep.