STALKER

Chapter 11 - 14th October, 1942 5 pm - Belgium part 1

The historical references are real as far as Belgium was occupied during WW2 - other than that the details are all fictional.

I was tempted to cancel the jump, after seeing Dad's reaction to Granddad's belongings. It was so unexpected. I don't know who was shocked more, me or Dad. What was meant to be a monumental surprise ended up falling flatter than a spit on the sidewalk. It's left me with a stomach tied in knots and Dad...well God knows what's going on with Dad. There's a strange heaviness in my chest, it's not guilt but something close to it. I wish it would go away.

Granddad didn't help the situation. He was the most unsettled of all of us. The way he wrapped himself around Dad, spiralling around him like a menacing, dark tornado, it freaked me out. I kept my mouth shut, but my eyes must have been bugging out of my head at the sight. If it had been me, I dread to think of how much of himself he would have left behind. As for dad, he was oblivious to what was happening around him, he felt nothing. He didn't feel the slightest connection. He was totally lost in what he saw around him, His eyes growing wider as they moved from one of his father's belongs to another. I think that upset Granddad the most. After following him around the room, clinging to him, he suddenly burst like a bubble and dissipated into nothing. It was like he expended all his energy trying to reach Dad. His abrupt departure left me feeling shaken. Admittedly, I'm sick of his moodiness, lurching around like Banquo's ghost, but I can understand how he must feel. First, he's awakened from his peaceful afterlife, then shown his glory days only to have someone rummage through them like dirty laundry. It's fair enough that he's pissed. I wanted him gone, just not like this. I was worried about him.

Dad disappeared almost as quickly as his father. I didn't get to say goodbye. Note to self never plan another surprise.  So.....I've sat here for the last hour, smoking one cigarette after another, trying to shake off the unpleasant feeling that I stuffed up big time.

Somewhere along the way, I'm not sure what the train of thought was that lead me to the idea that, perhaps, jumping tonight might make things better in the present. Would spending a few minutes back then with Grandfather; making eye contact, sharing a few words, best possible scenario... shaking hands with him, make the present less painful for him. It was that thought that resolved my dilemma. I would jump tonight as planned.  Everything was read, I just needed to be more Marvel Superhero and less chickenshit scared.

I got up and started my transformation into a young lad circ. 1942.

.......

14th October 1942 5 pm

My destination this time is in the opposite direction from the factory. With the starting point being my original jump site.  I plan to walk into town, to a cafe down one of the streets off the central square. Most of that section of Toeneren is still standing, having been lucky to survive the air bombardments meant for the factory. I've tried to be as thorough with my research as I can, considering I've only had a few days to collect information.  It appears that life went on, even in the middle of a war.

Even with the loss of family members to deportation, food rationing; and the enforcement of increasingly harsh Decrees by occupying Military Government people made the best of it. Fighting their own little war where they could.

I'm taking things to another level with this jump. I'm walking into a lion's den with zero protection apart from the word "Home". I don't speak the language and haven't a clue how to behave. With the exception of keeping my head down and avoiding all German soldiers and local police, I'm free wheelin it.  I'm only focusing on getting from point A to point B in one piece. If by chance I'm detained all I have to do is say one word and disappear before horrified onlookers but I'm trying to avoid that kind of dramatic exit. The only realistic threat is simply being shot without warning for some suspected infraction, which at that time was a possibility.

I have to say, I do look the part. I'm wearing all of Granddad's clothes; black suit, the trousers have buttons instead of a zipper and old fashioned braces to hold them up....ridiculously impractical; one of his faded white shirts that's turned brownish along the cuffs and collar but  fits really well; and his black flat cap which looks rather cool. I look like a young Leonardo De Caprio from Titanic. I'm only taking essentials with like my mobile, I want photographs this time, actual proof of my jump, a memento. Granddad's cigarette case is a must, a modern lighter, it mucks up the continuity but c'est la vie. I'm wearing his watch and signet ring for a specific reason. If it all goes to plan and he is the tiniest bit observant he will notice these items, and hopefully, his curiosity will peek and he will be tempted to talk more.

Last of all, as I don't have any of the currency of the time I've had to improvise by taking with me something to barter. I'm taking two packets of Tim Tams (I'm from Australia...what do you expect). If you're laughing, don't, during wartime this sort of thing is worth its weight in gold. I'm just hoping it buys me a couple of cups of coffee at my destination...the Cafe Florere on Avenue de Jette.

I haven't mentioned why I picked this time and place.  Basically, it was the easiest entry to decipher.   It read...

"14 10 42 Caf Flowers Linen Draper 5 J. It took a long time trying to make sense of this.  Even now I'm jumping with my destination being nothing more than a calculated guess. Between re-reading his first journal (which he started in 1943) and the notebook (written while he was in hiding in Toenerern) several times and trying to think like Granddad, I'm sure I'm right. The Journal mentions the Cafe Florere and its location; as well as the shops and restaurants on the square in colourful detail.  He amateurishly played around with the words.  If the authorities got hold of his notebook at the time, it would have taken them two seconds to decipher it and he would be in front of a firing squad before he knew it.

As for the Linen Draper...hmmm...Granddad being a Londoner I guessing  it's slang for paper. I have no idea what that means but I will be finding out. The J could be Jules.  If he's there it's a bonus.  

It's nearly midnight and time to head off. Before I leave I walk around the house to see if Granddad is fuming in some corner but there's no sign of him. I've become fond of that giant puff of smoke I hope he's OK.