Mountains and Rivers

By Allan L. Roberts

A highly intelligent wartime aircraft gunner shot down in action over Germany marries his wartime rescuer, and they eventually produce a son.

However, as both are in bad health because of their wartime experiences, they are unable to gain suitable employment. As loving parents knowing their time and financial limitations, they give him more than most parents, an education.

His mother, a musician, teaches him everything she knows about music; his father teaches their son the essentials of life. His parents deteriorating health leaving him orphaned when he is only five years old.

With his fathers words of wisdom his only guidance, he is faced with the horrors of an orphanage or to run away. Unable to face the bullying of the older boys and unsympathetic views of a cruel headmaster, the five-year-old makes his choice.

Troubles and misfortunes are ahead. However, with the memory of his fathers motivation and attitude to life, the five-year-old survives for eight years before being discovered living alone in the woods. His fathers advice and teachings were all the five-year-old needed to create a life of his own. This is a story of how that fight for survival determined his adult life and those he came in contact with.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504987950

Allan L. Roberts

Allan is never one to rest on his past achievements, he lives and breathes the theme of this book. Pushing past limitations and adversities that would lead to most of us, just giving up. He continues to push himself out of his confort zone. Taking on new challenges to benefit and be of service to his local community of Droitwich. Until recently he served both as a local councilor and a trustee for Age UK Droitwich, as well as volunteering for local organisations and becoming involved with the local branch of Toastmasters. Where he started an outreach program at the local high school, introducing and teach students public speaking skills.

Book preview

Mountains

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Rivers

ALLAN L. ROBERTS

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AuthorHouse™ UK

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: [phone]

© 2015 Allan L. Roberts. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/22/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-8794-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-8795-0 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

CHAPTER 1

F rom the corner of his eye Eric recognised the German fighter as it dived down out of the sun towards his already damaged plane, a few more seconds and it would be in his arc of fire, but too soon he saw the propellers disintegrate and the great engines on his Lancaster bomber burst into flames as the lines of tracer spurting from the fighter’s guns ripped through the deep blue sky and hit home. The glass bubble of his gun turret shattered and he felt the burning pain as a bullet tore through his chest.

Eric opened his eyes to find himself laying on a bed of hay high in the gable of a barn. He had no recollection of tumbling from the aircraft or how he reached the safety of the barn. It was to be numerous years later, at an aircrew reunion, before Eric Rivers learnt it was his fellow crewmen, knowing his only chance of survival, placed a parachute on him and pushed him from the crippled bomber into the enemy held territory before they themselves leapt from the burning aircraft.

Renée, a resistance fighter had watched his parachute floating to earth and dragged the unconscious airman to safety, hiding him in the barn. The farmer’s daughter, Melanie and he, had pulled him into the out buildings and then to the safety of the barn. Melanie, still in her teens but looking much older, her health suffering from the brush with the enemy when starved and tortured by the feared German SS in a German prison, was tending to his wounds, but professional medical help was too dangerous to contact, and with food in short supply Eric’s strength deteriorated and his wounds became infected. For months he hung on and only medical relief from the advancing allied troops near the end of the war enabled him to return to England alive.

After the war Eric decided to return for a while to the mountainous district on the German/Austrian border, he had fallen a second time, this time in love. Melanie had sat with Eric tending his wounds, playing the piano and singing to him until he was able to walk again without assistance. Eric and Melanie were not to be separated again and soon they became Mr. and Mrs. Rivers.

Eric returned to England with his wife Melanie and settled at Dry Drayton near Cambridge. As both were in bad health it was impossible for either of them to get proper employment. Eric although well-educated spent his time growing plants in his greenhouse or working part time in his neighbours’ gardens. Sometimes if he was lucky he would give private lessons in French, German or Italian. Eric always had a positive attitude and nothing would ever get him down, he always had a cheerful wave for everyone and loved jokes. Melanie had trained as a musician before the war and was a professional player of several instruments as well as a singer, her health had destroyed her singing voice but she set up a small music school teaching the piano, flute and saxophone.

Unexpectedly, having given up on having a family Melanie found herself pregnant and duly presented Eric with a son. The time came when they had to find a name for their new offspring, with little money to spare they could not see him having many toys or presents, so Eric said We will give him the best education we can and one day he will be a big man so we need to give him a big name.

Melanie’s happier memories of her childhood came flooding back, recollections of her homeland with its mountains and streams of crystal clear icy cold water. Not the lime scaled tap water of Cambridgeshire and jokingly she said Call him Mountain so he would be Mountain Rivers. Later Eric with his boundless sense of humour said Why not add Sand to his name so his name would be Mountain Sand Rivers, he would be known as Mountains and Rivers and the name stuck.

As Mountain had grown, Melanie had taught him everything she could about music, by his fourth birthday he could read music. He was able to play the piano, flute and the saxophone and, given an old banjo from an elderly lady, his enthusiasm was so great he had been able to play simple tunes within weeks.

Only a week after Mountain’s fourth birthday Melanie’s health deteriorated suddenly and though she was rushed into hospital, she only lasted a few days and Eric was alone with his four year old son. Mountain was devastated by the loss of his mother, he could not understand why she was not there with him and he cried himself to sleep every night for weeks.

Eric’s breathing problems, his overall poor health and now the loss of his wife added more stress to his life, but he was determined to carry on giving Mountain the best education he could. By now Mountain could read and write not only English but French, German and Italian and he was able to speak a little Spanish and he loved to swop language in mid-sentence much to the annoyance of Eric.

His history and geography was good and he was a natural at maths. Although academic subjects were very important, Eric considered attitude to life more important and introduced Mountain to a list of books written by some of the world’s most positive motivational speakers, giving Mountain a ‘Can do’ attitude.

Eric made it to Mountain’s fifth birthday but knew his time was short. He arranged for a distant cousin to look after Mountain when he was gone and spent the rest of his time coaching Mountain. Deliberately making a point of telling him why a good education was so important for him, and, if he planned his life properly, that one day he would be able to attend one of the topmost universities in Cambridge. Eric had often emphasized the importance of forward planning while showing him the Universities on days when the family had hired a punt, and journeyed down the river Cam and under the Mathematical Bridge at Queen’s College.

Almost a year to the day after Melanie died, Eric was buried and Mountain met the cousin who was supposed to look after him. He was much older than Mountain with a wife and child that Mountain immediately took a dislike to. When the will was read by the solicitor, there was no money, the house had been rented and only photos and Eric’s medals were left for Mountain. Mountain’s cousin had been expecting to inherit the house in return for looking after Mountain, and as there was nothing in it for him, he quickly squashed any idea of looking after Mountain and dumped him at a local orphanage.

Mountain had grown very close to his father after the loss of his mother and had still not really come to terms with the loss, but to lose his father as well so soon after was too much and he was inconsolable. Night after night he would cry for his parents and his eyes would be red and still filled with tears every morning.

The orphanage that his uncle sent him to was awful, old and dilapidated in a small village called Impington. The headmaster, a large, scruffy, overweight man in his late fifties gave Mountain no welcome, just instructions to join the other boys in the orphanage. Mountain joined a group of boys in one of the large dormitories, he felt out of place and alone and it was only hours before the other boys began to bully him continuously. Although big for his age he stood no chance against even the youngest of the other boys three years his elder. He complained to the principle, Mr. Baxter, but his response was only that it would make a man out of him.

One day at dinner, one of the boys pushed over a stack of plates that shattered on the floor. When the principle came rushing in to see the destruction, the boys all pointed to Mountain and said it was deliberate. Despite Mountain’s protests of innocence he was punished with three strokes of the cane.

Back in his room and looking in the distance from the dormitory window he could see other children at Impington Village College laughing and playing games. While at the orphanage, he had to suffer bullying and torment from the other boys and constantly receiving the cane from the principle for things he hadn’t been responsible for. Mountain had gone from a relatively poor but loving family home to a hostile environment which he couldn’t bear.

At the end of the second week he had received the cane five times because of stupid pranks by the other boys and he decided to run away. Without any thought he ran off down the tree lined road that led to the next village, after around half a mile he entered a cake shop, spending the only few pence he had on a small teacake, then he quickly carried on down the road.

Before he had travelled more than a few hundred yards he spotted an old black and white derelict cottage. Squeezing through the half broken door he entered what would have been the original kitchen. A few smashed cupboards and a most primitive looking cooker damaged beyond description and an evil damp smell was all there was to greet him. Using one of the damaged cupboards to sit on, he ate his teacake.

Oblivious of the smell but curious, he wandered about the house thinking that this may be the ideal place to hide. He soon noticed a matchbox and on opening it discovered several matches still inside, collecting together some of the paper scattered around and some of the scrap wood from the cupboards, he started a fire in the old stone inglenook fireplace. With the heat of the fire and something in his belly he began to dose off. But his mind was captivated by the design of the fire place, built in the centre of the house, complete with its own oven. He realised that the fire would distribute heat throughout the house and bake the bread at the same time.

In the meantime the other boys had told the principle that Mountain had run away down the road. Mr. Baxter wasted no time and rang the police and within minutes a police car, complete with a dog, was off down the road with a description of Mountain. The police checked at the cake shop and as the assistant, who had recognised Mountain’s description, was pointing out the direction Mountain had taken, she suddenly stopped and said That’s odd, there is smoke coming from the chimney of that derelict house. Lack of thought and forward planning had given away Mountain’s whereabouts. Back at school he received the cane for the sixth time in two weeks.

CHAPTER 2

T he situation was intolerable, he needed to escape but, even at only five years of age he recalled his father telling him to plan ahead. He now realised the importance of planning, he would have to organise his escape, make a list of the things he would need, the best time to disappear, how to stop them from following and finding him, where to go, and the list suddenly appeared endless. What would his dad have done?

Mountain observed that at weekends, some of the boys could leave the orphanage to stay with friends or relatives, and Mr. Baxter left the place in the hands of an old assistant who was really only responsible for the cooking and would not notice who was present and who was missing. So weekend would be the ideal time to go, that gave him just over one week to prepare his escape plan.

Food would be essential, he knew that fruit was available in the dining room but few of the boys ate it. Mountain took an orange and apple every day and hid them in his locker. Bread was available at breakfast for toast, sneaking down early he could pinch a loaf or half loaf each day and smuggle it back to his locker with an occasional block of butter. A knife, fork and spoon was simple, just a case of putting them in his pocket.

Each night he would lay awake planning, by the Thursday evening he felt everything was ready to go, just the final details of his plan to sort. He had decided that he needed to cross the nearest border to be free just like in the cowboy movies he had seen and the only boarder he could think of was the border into Wales.

Friday afternoon was meant to be sport, but most of the lads would just wander down to the village. It was risky but would be a golden opportunity to get into the sports hall where the cricket kit was kept, he could empty the kit and use the bag to carry his possessions.

While it was quiet he placed all his collection of goodies, a blanket from his bed, his boots and a coat that was about three sizes too big for him, and an old map he had found on Mr. Baxter’s book shelf, into the bag and, struggling with the weight, hid it in the bushes behind some outhouses. At the last minute he remembered he would need matches, so creeping back to the kitchen and past the assistant without being noticed, he helped himself to a large box normally used by the cook to light the gas ovens.

His plan was almost complete but he was running out of time. Cutting across the fields so that no one at the cake shop would see him, Mountain reached the derelict cottage. He found the door freshly boarded up after his last escape attempt and to stop vandals entering, but he struggled hard and eventually was able to squeeze through a small window to enter.

Once again he searched for paper for a fire, wall paper peeling away from the walls would be ideal and he began to strip some of the walls clean of paper. Checking the outhouses, he found the last scrapings of coal, coal dust and coke and with all the broken wood and logs laying around he would be able to create a good fire. With the fire all prepared to light in the inglenook fireplace he ran as quickly as he was able back to the orphanage before the other lads noticed his absence.

Late that evening he told some of the boys that his cousin would be coming to collect him very early in the morning as he was staying the weekend with his relatives. This way his absence would be covered until Monday morning when he failed to show up. Mountain sat eating his evening meal. Was everything ready? Was there anything he had forgotten? His excitement was almost too much for him, it was a big plan for someone so young, he wanted to tell someone but he knew better, with only a few hours to go, it had to remain his secret.

The lads had to be in bed by 9 pm but some of them would talk until after ten even though the dormitory lights were switched out, especially as Mr. Baxter was away at weekends. Mountain had gone to bed fully clothed apart from his trainers which he placed beneath his bed, however he had put on his pyjamas over the top to hide his clothes.

He waited until the talking stopped and then after a few more minutes he quietly slipped from his bed, placing his trainers under his pyjama jacket so that anyone still awake, and seeing him in the light from the corridor, would just think he was heading to the toilets, slowly he tiptoed from the room.

Along the corridor and down the stairs, he almost wanted to shout out he felt so excited, he removed his pyjamas and put on his trainers. Hanging onto his pyjamas he silently opened a window and climbed out. At last he was free his excitement was almost too much for him to control, if