Walking Beside You (World War II Romance)

Liverpool

Liverpool (I)

 We ended up staying at Seaforth Barracks Liverpool camp for a while. The military camp was like a mini society surrounding by English red-bricks wall and buildings. They reminded me the little path I crossed every time when I returned home. By the time at late 1942, Liverpool was crowded by Canadian soldiers like us. We were lucky to be assigned staying at a camp which converted from civilian’s home by the coastal area. The latecomers after our arrival could only sleep inside the tents set at the park near the base because there simply weren’t any accommodation left! There were 40 boys in the camp. 8 of us stayed in one room. We slept on wooden bunks and shared the bathroom. It was lucky that there were shower curtains attached! I didn’t need to worry about sneaking into shower without waking up the guys asleep. Twinson and I slept on the upper bunk while Carl and Sidney were below us.

 It was a beautiful Saturday morning; the sky was beamed by a warm autumn sun. I washed my clothes and hung them on a wooden stick for drying.

 “Hi.”

 “Good Morning.” Our neighbors were also Canadians. They came to the UK 3 years earlier. Both were veterans from Dunkirk and Dieppe Raid.

“Benson, will you join the bicycle ride?” I heard Jonathan’s voice coming from inside their house. He was holding a tray of wet clothes, prepared for drying. Our gaze locked when he turned around.

 “You too know each other already?” Benson, the brown haired guy in his mid-twenties with a burnt scar rose from his left cheek to forehead asked.

 “We traveled on the same ship from CapeIsland.” He answered before I part my lips to speak, still contemplating me.

 “Wow, I’ll leave you guys talk for a while.” Benson caught the gaze and entered the house, “I’ll join Todd if I want to go.”

 We were in silence after Benson left; I bit my lower lip when his eyes met mine.

 “So…you’re drying your clothes?” He broke the ice.

 “Yes.” I swallowed, “I…I’m sorry.”

 “Sorry for what?” He chuckled, had no idea what I was going to apologize for.

 “Sorry…sorry for what I said on the ship.”

 “You should ask forgiveness from the seaman rather than me.” He paused, “Looking back, I was the same as you when I first arrived at England in 1940.”

 “Jonathan!” Benson returned with the board-shoulder guy I saw at the pier the date before, “We’re going now, will you and your friend join us?”

 “Will you?” He turned to me again with an inviting glance.

 “Sure.” Wow! He invites me out! He invites me out! My inner goddess was over-joy.

 We rode along the coastline of Seaforth. The turquoise sea water flickered under the sunlight. The breeze was gentle. Lovers were holding hands strolling along the shore; giggling when sharing the secrets belonged to their own world. This lovely picture was ruined by the barbed wires protecting the coastline. I was riding behind him, of course in separate bicycles. Watching his back, I wished I can circle my arms around his waist, close my eyes and rest my head on him while he was cycling.

 We took a break at a small garden. Sitting right opposite him, my heart was pounding fast.

 “So…you’ve already been here once?”

 “Yup.” He took a sip of water, “I got drafted in Christmas 1939…….” I pictured Jonathan’s story in mind while listening.

 “Hang On! Simon!” Jonathan and his friend were on a life boat. The Atlantic winter was exceptionally freezing for those people who got soaked by sea water. Chillness and hungers were the monsters counting down the lives of survivors. Simons face was pale as paper, his body was cold and stiff.