First Love of Paris
It’s 1941, and the Parisian streets are deserted, it’s a fine summer evening and
the summer breeze is lightly soothing my hot face. Paris is grim after the
recent Nazi air attack destroying the scenic charm of Paris. The river Siene is
eerily calm. The sulphurous air chokes my lungs as I walk through the rubble.
It’s misty, the night is falling in, I better be getting home, quick. As I turn to
make a quick pace home, I see someone. A dark figure amongst all the mist, I
think it’s a woman, and is that brown hair I see. Yes. I can’t see her face very
well but her eyes are a deep green, and they shine like emeralds; deep green
emeralds that are brighter than any I’ve ever seen.
My heart started pounding, I was in Love.
Then, just as quick as I saw her, she disappeared. I went home to rest my
thoughts, but all I could think about was her. That night, I was restless, tossing
and turning; 1am, 2am, 4am, and still she consumed my thoughts and gave me
no rest. Dawn was breaking, the day had just begun.
As tired as I was, I dragged my sluggish body out of bed to dress and start my
day. My usual pick-me-up coffee appeased my tiredness. Toast in my hand, a
bag on my shoulder, I rush out of the house to report to headquarters.
“Officer! You’re late!” came the greeting as I walked through the door. “Sorry
Marshall. What’s all the commotion?”
“Orders from London, we’re to brief everyone, we’re flying out to the front line
at 4pm tomorrow night. Gather everyone in the mess hall, IMMEDIATELY!”
“Yes, sir. Straight away, sir.”
The briefing left everyone quiet.
Afterward my mates caught up with me. “Hey Charlie, let’s go hit the town.”
“Sure, Jack, is George coming too?”
“Yeh, he’s coming.” That was the last real conversation I had with him that
night. As we headed towards the town the sirens bellowed, alarming us that a