A
CHRISTMAS STORY OF LONG, LONG AGO
By Bob French
The people of the little town of Braintree woke to find
that during one night, just before Christmas 1917, snow had silently fallen,
altering the bleak countryside to one of beauty and tranquillity.
Edward,
who was making his way home on leave from the war for the first time, pulled up
the damp rough collar of his great-coat to around his ears and lowered his face
into the bitter cold wind that cut across the Witham Road. He
trudged on through slit eyes, his cold hands thrust deep inside his pockets. The soft crunch of his
boots as they trod the virgin snow; the haunting sound of the wind as it howled
through the wire and the distant squawk of a crow high in the blackened
leafless trees, brought his memory sharply back to home, the home where he had
spent twelve months, but it felt like a life time. The
home, where he and his mates survived in a small muddy trench, day after day. Where he lived on his
nerves just to stay alive. Where
around him, grown men openly wept when one of their own quietly passed away
from the bitter cold or hunger in the darkness of the night. Yet, strangely
enough, it was a home he had become accustomed to, where he was happy.
Edward
was twenty one when he enlisted into the Essex Regiment during the summer of
1915. He felt it a sense of duty to fight for his country, which his father
understood and praised him for, whilst his Mother did not and scolded him. Then he remembered the day
he told Grace, his young lady friend and grinned to himself at her reaction. She had stared at him for a
few seconds, then slapped his face hard, Then, with compassion in her eyes, she
reached out and held his stinging face gently in her hands and kissed him. It had been their first
kiss.
He
had left the family farm just outside White Notley and within six months had
passed through basic training. During the bitter winter of 1916 found himself
in Belgium
with his regiment at a place called Plug Street Wood, a desolate and cruel
place, where creature comforts were virtually nonexistent and where both the
weather and the enemy seemed determined to kill him.
His
thoughts were suddenly distracted by the sound of jangling chains and the crack
of a whip that cut through the silence of the vast white and empty countryside.
Edward’s eyes followed the sound until they settled on four steaming horses
that strained against the straps and chains that imprisoned them. He stopped
and returned the coachman’s wave, then grinned to himself. ‘That must be the half past
three coach from Chelmsford,’
he thought.
His
heavy breathing caused the air around him to billow like a steam engine pulling
away from the station as he struggled up the last few yards to the crest of a
familiar hill. Then he
rested, and looked down onto a small valley, hidden partially by the snow laden
trees, his eyes began to sting as he fought back the tears. Here was the place where he
had started life, where he had grown from a scrawny boy to a man, under the
protection of people who loved and cared for him. Where he had sweated and
broken his back on an unyielding land; where he had given his love for the
first time to someone other than his mother. Then
it dawned upon him. Here
was home.
As
he adjusted the shoulder straps of his haversack and began the perilous descent
towards the small clump of cottages and barns, someone shouted his name. It
carried clearly through the cold afternoon air.
“Edward!”
He stopped, and through tired eyes
quickly searched the snow covered farm in front of him.
“Edward!”
He felt excitement rush through his
body as he frantically searched the countryside. Then
he saw her stumbling up the field toward him. A grin spread across his face as
he lurched down the slope, slipping and sliding as he went. They met in each other’s
arms, at the edge of the small brook which had frozen over to allow her to
cross in safety.
“Oh
my dear Grace.” His first words were uttered through sobs of happiness. They
held each other close ignoring the bitter cold wind that tugged at their
clothes. Grace,
cradled in his arms, her face buried in his chest and her muffled sobs, brought
happiness to his heart.
“Edward. Thank God you are safe. I have loved and missed you
so much.”
A few minutes later they heard the
familiar voices of his parents through the winter air, as they hurried towards
them. Amongst sobs and
laughter they hugged him until his father had insisted that the welcome should
continue inside, rather than out in the cold and within minutes they were all
standing in front of a raging open fire in the parlour. Edward
looked at his father, who grinned back at him with a nod of proud approval, as
his mother and Grace clung to him as though he might suddenly vanish.
“Welcome
home lad. It’s good to
have you back, and just in time for Christmas.”
His
mother, who had remained uncommonly silent during the welcome, had suddenly
started to openly weep, drawing Edward and Grace around her, embracing them
with gentle arms.
“Edward
lad, come and sit down. You
must be tired.” His
father recognised the expression on his son’s face. He
had seen it many times before, when they had been ploughing the fields till
late, or bringing in the harvest. His
mother clung to his hand as he sat and listened to what they had planned for
Christmas Day.
In
the corner of his eye, Edward watched Grace as she prepared a sandwich; his
heart leapt at the way the afternoon sun shone on her shoulder length hair and
the smile of her calm angelic face. He had made his mind up. This Christmas he would ask
for her hand in marriage.
The
morning brought Christmas Eve, and with it another bitter cold day. Edward, who was not
accustomed to the comfort of a proper bed, had risen early and helped his
father with the milking before being spoilt by his mother with a cooked
breakfast that could have fed three. She
watched him as he ate and with an intriguing grin on her face, confronted him.
“Well
Edward, what is it?”
Edward
knew he could never keep a secret from her for long and chose silence as his
defence.
“I
recognise that look on your face. When
have you got to go back?”
Edward
pondered on the thought of that far away place; the stench of rotting bodies;
the cold; the mud and the ever present threat of death, but quickly cast it
from his mind.
“No
Mum it’s that…..” The
back door suddenly opened, admitting his father and a gust of ice cold wind.
“Right,
lad, when you’ve finished you can help me with the fencing, up in the top
field, if you like.” Edward
grinned, secretly thanking his father for intervening. As
he moved toward the back door he paused and kissed his mother on the cheek.
“I
will tell you tomorrow, Mum, I Promise.”
The
excitement of what Christmas Day might bring slowly built throughout the
morning, with the rich smells of cooking drifting through the house and the
jubilant sound of Edward and Grace, amidst bouts of laughter, as they decorated
the Christmas tree.
After
lunch, Edward asked Grace if she would accompany him into Braintree, where she had grown up. Grace
nodded enthusiastically, but insisted that he wore his uniform.
To
their surprise, the expected wind, that howled across the desolate countryside,
was absent as they stepped out into the yard. In
its place, nature had prepared a spectacular show for the young couple. The large, warm sun that
hung in the vast, blue, empty sky ignited millions of diamonds, that lay in the
gentle blanket of white snow. All around them was total silence, as they
trudged up the Witham Road
towards Braintree
Town and civilisation.
The
cramped buildings on the Rayne Road, which led into the market square of
Braintree, offered them sanctuary from the cold and soon they were amidst the
jostle of humanity; smells of roasting chestnuts, carol singers, peddlers and
busy shoppers, who smiled and greeted Edward as though he were a long lost son.
As
Grace bartered with the fruit and vegetable seller, Edward knew the time had
come and leant across and whispered that he had seen one of his friends and
would only be a minute. She smiled at him with her eyes.
“Don’t
be too long.”
As
he eased himself through the busy square he paused and glanced at the White
Hart public house and thought that a little Dutch courage might help, but
thought better of it and continued to walk purposefully toward the tobacco shop
on Coggeshall Road.
He
paused and glanced briefly at the gold lettering printed neatly above the door
of the shop. Edward
felt his heart start to pound, as he realised what he had to do, then, pushing
the large wooden door open, he felt the waft of warm sweet- smelling air rush
past him. He allowed
himself a few seconds to revel in the warmth and let his nose grow accustomed
to the smells, when a tall, well-built man with a mop of grey hair appeared
from behind a curtain.
“Why,
Edward. It is good to
see you back safely. How
are you?”
Edward
had rehearsed the lines over and over in his mind and took a deep breath.
“Sir.
I come into your shop on a false errand.” A
sudden frown crept across the tall man’s face.
“As
you know Sir, I had been walking out with your daughter for over a year before
I enlisted and I would like to ask your permission to take her hand in
marriage.”
The
tall man narrowed his eyes and searched Edward’s frightened face. Time seemed to stand still
as the tall man contemplated his decision, then slowly smiled.
“Edward,
son. You have my
blessing,” he said as he extended his hand, which was eagerly taken.
“Her
mother, God rest her soul, would have wanted it also. Have you any idea when
you intend marrying her?”
Edward
had not been prepared for the question, but knew that to marry Grace before the
war ended would be folly.
“Upon
my return from the war Sir.” The
grin that spread across the tall man’s face was quickly followed by the nodding
of his shaggy head.
“I
know she spends most of her day across at your parents’ farm and I am sure she
will do you proud, son. Go to her, Edward, and may God bless you both.”
Christmas
morning was filled with the smell of roast turkey, home-made wine and the
singing of Christmas carols. After a huge lunch, excited screams and laughter
followed the opening of presents. Edward
felt his eyes water as he unwrapped a watch, engraved with love from his
parents, to replace the one he had broken in the trenches.
Suddenly,
the room fell silent. His
parents gazed at Edward, who had knelt down in front of Grace.
“Grace
Thompson. You are my only true reason to live and I don’t think I can live on
this earth without you by my side. Will
you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
What followed was a cacophony of screams and tears of joy as Edward’s parents
embraced the young happy couple. Grace and his mother clung to each other
in tears. Edward, with bright tearful eyes, smiled at his father, then stepped
forward and embraced him. They both knew it was going to be the best
Christmas ever.
Copyright Bob French
