War, what is it good for?

War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing.

Edwin Starr 1970

By Jane Scoggins

Words and music thrusting out from Classic Gold. It was the impetus John needed. He packed a bag. Not much, just essentials, enough to tide him over. Did he know what he was doing? Not really, but the bugle had sounded, and as a trained soldier he responded. It felt like an order. Sargent McCray had stood no nonsense. A good soldier could rise from his sleep and have his boots on ready to march in 10 seconds. No questions asked, just obey. Best way, no time to fear.

War, sang Edwin Starr, ain't nothing but a heart breaker, the destruction of innocent lives. Marching purposefully to the bus station, for the coach to Carlisle. Memories of the Duke of Lancaster Regiment. An army friend retired to Carlisle. Shared memories, beers, hot pot made by Maureen. Text messages sent to family at home. Message from Carol in Glasgow.

‘Yes, come and visit. You are halfway here already. Long time no see, big brother’

A coach to Glasgow. Warm sisterly hug on arrival. A drive to Partick. Chat and banter. Two days later, a proper conversation about things that matter. John in tears. Carol comforting. PTSD? Shaking head and smiling through damp eyes.

‘No, I've run away, I've deserted my post. I can't take any more’ Sister looks bewildered.

‘But you left the army years ago’

‘Not the army, I'm deserting my marriage. It's been a war zone for years, and we are both unhappy, but Julie won't listen, won't understand and criticises me day and night, belittles me. Two weeks ago she punched me in the face. I’ve nothing left to give. I'm tired of fighting; this war between us must come to an end, and I'm ending it. I’ve messaged her. She expects me back, but I'm surrendering and walking away from the battlefield once and for all.

Copyright, Jane Scoggins