Under heaven

Chapter 19: Blessed Thanks

"June 1st, 1916
Flanders, France.

Dear Elise,

I know I've not written you much in the past months with the exception of a few words to tell you I am still with the living, and for that I apologize.

It's been so quiet here in this sector that the grass has grown long around our dugouts and on a clear fine day, if you look up at the sky, the war seems to melt away.

Some of the other sections have had a rough time with Fritz and his artillery but so far, we've been lucky.

We are to be sent on leave in a few days for a week if all goes well and id love to be able to see you. The boys want me to visit London with them, but I plan to come see you instead. Besides, I'd rather walk with you in the Paris sun than alone in the London rain.

Lots of affection,
Isaac"

By the time the late spring sun had made it's way to my face I was already over a mile behind the lines. I found my way to the railhead and hopped on to the first small gauge flat car I could find. The burned out buildings and pock marked fields were now mossy and lush green with small patches of poppy red trying hard to cover the scars of October's fighting.

It seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. The blue of the french uniforms was now missing from the landscape. Replaced with men in British kakhi, but with every train that took me closer to Paris, the more I realized the French concentrations must be to the south.

By late evening I reached Paris. I made my way through the streets with a simple map riding on carts driven by generous drivers who seemed to appreciate my mispronounced French. The streets seemed empty and hollow. An intense ayr of past glory seemed to peep out from behind each alley and from the dimmed light of each and every ornate street lamp, as if still there, but merely sleeping.

I had worked tirelessly on the permission to visit Paris by befriending my commanding officer and volunteering for trench raids, manipulating my way through the military hierarchy to gain just a few days pass. Fortunately I had a Major in charge who was particularly fond of schnapps, of which I found a bottle of on my last trench raid. Well, a bottle for him and a case the boys and I kept burried under the bunks of our dugout. But even after all the work to get that far, As I walked up to the house and made my way up the steps I couldn't help but feel a bit of an imposition. It had been so long since I had seen anyone I knew outside of the army.

I made an attempt to knock on the Great door but for some reason my hand could not strike the knocker. The whole house was dark except a tiny light at the entrance. I felt guilt rack my mind for waking all of them and I thought to myself, "one more night out won't hurt me." But the truth was far more dark. In reality, it had been so long since my violence stricken heart had felt excitement, that I did not feel capable of feeling it at all, and as the night was warm, I retired myself to sleeping on the step in hopes that a few hours sleep would give me strength and prepare me to take the onslaught of normal life for a day or two.

Morning came with the rising sun in my eyes and a sudden hard kick to the back. I instinctively jumped to my feet to face my would be attacker.

It was the aging doorman with a great look of disgust on his face. In a flash his brows raised to smile.

"Mr Goodine?!", he said as he made an attempt to steady me.

I had risen so fast to my feet that for a moment I had tunnel vision. And was barely able to stand.

"I'm so sorry sir, I thought you were a drunk." He said with an apologetic smile.

All I could do was muster a groggy smile. I was still half asleep as he lead me through the open door to meet Patrice who had, by then, had come to the door to see who I was.