Blonde Tuft

“All’s fair in Love and War.” – Winston Churchill.

Somewhere, on the soon to be unoccupied side of the channel, during the war torn latter stages of the Second World War, there was a bridge. And on this bridge’s road this day, lay a blonde haired, blue-eyed German soldier who had been killed during the fighting. Germany was losing the war now and there was no need to blow up any more bridges, as the Brits, with her allies advanced towards Germany. This particular bridge was completely intact, and as all the artilleries, lorries, armoured-cars, jeeps and tanks pounded heavily across its trembling path all day long, Jim said that not one of the convoy missed the chance to drive over this unfortunate blonde German! Such was the anger at the loss of innocent human life.

By the end of the day there was hardly anything left of the flattened German, apart from a large tatter of grease stained cloth, that was gradually spread over and into the road’s surface; that aside, eventually only marked out and identifiable by the survivable relief of a blonde tuft of hair. And because the word had been sent back down the line, that this was the road bridge with the dead German laying across it, everyone in transit, once arriving at this inhumane crossing with its squashed inhuman bridgehead, all still aimed for the remaining stain, and rolled and bumped over its blonde tuft, of hair germane.

~ N.W.
 

 

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