"My Pal Grandad" by Eileen Roberts
"Pendle Hill looks fantastic today doesn't it?" he enthused. His son nodded in agreement but did not speak preferring to stare off into the far distance. "The sun finally feels like it has some warmth in it, I think spring is starting to make an appearance," he continued. No response.
"Do you remember when we brought Grandad up here just before he passed away? I think he really enjoyed it." I might not be getting a response he thought, but I'm not standing up here in silence all afternoon.
"Mmm ... 1 think he finally put some ghosts to rest that day... " His son spoke softly before the wind carried his words away.
"Sorry ... what was that? His Father looked back towards him momentarily confused, "Ghosts?"
"The ghosts of the friends he'd lost in the war Dad." His son addressed him directly for the first time since they'd completed their climb from the layby up to the viewpoint just off the bypass.
"Oh right. Well he never spoke about his war-
His son sighed. "I wonder what Accrington would have looked like back in 1914? I bet we'd not be able to see anything from up here because of the smoke from the chimneys. What was it like when you were a kid Dad?"
"Well, everyone still had coal fires so it wouldn't have been as clear as it is today and most of the factory chimneys were still standing in those days."
His son reminisced, "I can just about remember the mills coming down when I was a lad, loads of building sites to play on ... just like bombsites really ... " His voice tailed off.
"He saw some terrible things at Serre you know ... most of his mates never made it back." A pause. "He said he felt guilty because he'd survived when so many others hadn't... lads who hadn't even become men were slaughtered ... they hadn't even fired a bullet in anger and they were mown down right in front of his eyes. The top brass thought the pals battalions were a good idea, getting gangs of mates or work colleagues to join up together, egging each other on. Trouble was the war wiped out whole families, streets, workplaces ... he felt ashamed he'd made it back to Accrington."
He fell silent again and his Father was lost for words. "I -
"Because I'd started to take an interest in joining the Army remember? It was on my tenth birthday, someone bought me a tank ... I played with it non-
"I remember," his father smiled, "your mother and I bought you that. Maybe if we'd known what was going to happen we wouldn't have." He stopped abruptly. "Sorry,"
he cleared his throat and regained his composure. "I shouldn't have said that."
"It's okay, I understand." He paused, "He tried to put me off joining up you know? He told me some terrible stories, maybe he thought I'd see sense and become a plumber or a builder. I just told him that they'd never be another war like that one; young lads being slaughtered, men wouldn't return with such terrible injuries..."
The younger man blinked away stinging tears in the cool breeze. His father was contemplating the view across to Pendle Hill again, marvelling at how the peak appeared to change colour on an almost constant basis depending on the weather and lighting conditions.
He looked towards his son and smiled weakly... "I'm sorry it was such hard work coming up here ... it must be difficult at the moment."
"It's fine ... 1 need to do this, how will I recover if I sit on my backside all day feeling sorry for myself?"
"You're right son ... sorry, I just don't want you to tire yourself out."
"I said its fine!" he snapped and immediately regretted his outburst. "I'm sorry Dad, I know you mean well, but you and Mum have to stop tip-
A young family interrupted their conversation as they reached the viewpoint. The smaller of the two children stopped abruptly open-
"Dad look at that man, he's..." Katy!" Her mother stopped her in her tracks, "what have I told you about staring at people, leave him alone!" She smiled weakly in their general direction without managing to make eye contact with either of the men. "Sorry ... kids ... you know ... sorry ... "
She mumbled a sort of apology and gathered her brood together for the trip back down the hill.
"But Mum we've only just got here..." Their protestations echoed as they wandered away.
The younger man stifled a laugh, "See I'm even frightening the local kids now ... I'll be a wow at Halloween parties."
His father shuffled uncomfortably.
"Dad it's a joke ... you can laugh you know."
"It doesn't feel right lad, laughing at something like that... you've said it yourself, you'll never be the same again."
His son nodded in agreement, "You're right I won't, but I'm not going to let this beat me. In 1916 I wouldn't have even made it back from the front, I'd probably have died in no-
His Father struggled to face him.
"Look at me!" The younger man's voice cracked with emotion. "Am I that repulsive?"
"No ... no ... of course not lad, it's just..."
"Just what?"
The older man finally faced his son, "I feel responsible..."
"Well that's just ridiculous ... I think you'll find the Taliban were responsible for my current predicament!" He barely suppressed his amusement at the absurdity of his father's statement.
"I mean I feel responsible because I allowed you to go... to join up. I should have stopped you."
"Dad, both you and me know that wouldn't have happened. I'd have stormed out of the house never to be seen again. It meant a lot to have your blessing when I enlisted."
His face softened. "I loved seeing both you and Mum at the passing out ceremony."
His Dad grinned, "Yes and then we passed out again later that night after our monster session in the bar!"
Both men laughed at the recollection, well what they could remember of the night in question.
A shaft of sunlight illuminated the flat top of Pendle Hill, it shone like a beacon in the distance. The younger man broke the silence.
"I love this view, I used to think about it when I was out in Helmand. You certainly don't get scenery like this around Camp Bastion."
His Dad smiled at the comparison as he studied the sky again, "Uh-
His son followed his gaze in the direction of Blackburn and spied the dark ominous storm cloud heading their way. "Okay then, looks like we'd better head back down the hill"
"Are you okay to get back down on your own? Do you need any help?" His father enquired tentatively.
His son raised an eyebrow, then winked, a smile cracking his scarred and pockmarked features.
"Tell you what old man ... I'll race you!" He limped to the start of the path down, wincing as he shifted the weight onto his prosthetic leg. "Come on pops ... what's keeping you? I've got the Paralympic Games to get into training for!"
His Dad felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, his lad was recovering, it would take a while but at least he'd come home, plenty of lads from Accrington hadn't been so lucky.
"Hey...wait up!" He called after his son. "We're not all bionic men!"
– The End –