Return to Innocence

By Elizabeth Roane

Return to Innocence

Elizabeth Roane

Sometimes the keys to our future are held in the past, in things ignored but not silent.

When war ended in Europe, Roger, like most young men, returned to his life in Newcastle, married his sweetheart, and began his life of peace after years of turmoil and danger. Then night terrors started, and the distant carnage of World War II invaded his home, his marriage, and his mind.

Roger Whitehead's story continues in this long-awaited sequel to In Search of Honor.

It maps his journey with God as he wades through war's debris of fragmented memories and half-truths. Riddled with unanswered questions about the family he knows and the one he stumbled into in France, he returns to the continent in search of answers and to silence his ghosts.

Join Roger as he faces life's great conflicts between love and hate, life and death, justice and forgiveness, heaven and hell. Travel with him as he unearths his lost history, revealing its beautiful story of lasting love and divine purpose. Witness miraculous convergences between heaven and earth interlocking his past, present, and future into a testimony of ordained destiny. Then experience triumph as a victorious messenger alters the lives of all his loved ones.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889430735

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Return to Innocence

Elizabeth Roane

ISBN 979-8-88943-072-8 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88943-073-5 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Elizabeth Roane

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Scripture references are from The Holy Bible, New King James Version ©1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. and Young’s Literal Translation, published 1862, copyright public domain.

The terms bitter root judgements/expectancy and inner vows are subjects introduced in the book Transformation of the Inner Man by John and Paula Sandford (ISBN 0-932081-13-4, copyright 1982, Victory House Inc.: Tulsa, Oklahoma, 74136). This book, along with the companion volume Healing the Wounded Spirit, is revised and updated in four volumes and can be purchased at www.elijahrainsministries.org, Elijah House Ministries, and Amazon.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

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

About the Author

Preface

Everyone interested in World War II history stumbles across references to the millions killed during this conflict. The overlooked casualties are those who did not die but lived irreversibly altered lives caused by the war.

As I read about the wounded men, I could not find one source that addressed the treatment of psychological, invisible trauma carried by the greatest generation.

Yet as a young social worker during the '70s, some of my most memorable clients were veterans who had lost their families through divorce. Some had unhealable leg wounds called jungle rot which had been draining for over thirty years. Some slept under bushes in the downtown park still carrying the nightmares of the Bataan March or reliving memories of liberating Dachau.

Return to Innocence is about spiritual recovery following the trauma of war. I do not pretend to have a working knowledge of the subject of PTSD, as it is now called. I know it is real, and I believe very few families living with veterans from World War II had the vocabulary or resources available to help their loved ones.

I dedicate this book to the unnamed, often forgotten, who believed in God, liberty, and fought for their country either at home or abroad. In my family, my mother's mother had two sons, two sons-in-law, and one daughter-in-law who wore the army or navy uniform. I do not know about my father's extended family due to his postwar lostness and absence from my life. One lesson I learned in this pilgrimage is how I took my father, aunt, and uncles for granted as a child. I had no idea what their war years cost them. I live in gratitude for their sacrifices as an adult.

Acknowledgments

Iwould like to thank five extraordinary friends who gave their time and energy to see this manuscript completed: Kay Mulvihill, Pam Glanton, Dr. Barb Phillips-Robinson, Christy Satterfield, and Nancy James. Thank you doesn't begin to express my gratitude for your input and encouragement.

I also want to thank Dr. E. R. Mayhew, London, England. In my research for this volume, I read the book The Reconstruction of Warriors. Dr. Mayhew records the story of the Guinea Pig Club, the name pilots gave themselves while treated by Dr. Archibald McIndoe in E. Grinstead at Queen Victoria Hospital, United Kingdom. As a retired wound nurse, I discovered Dr. McIndoe's groundbreaking burn treatments continue to this day.

Dr. Mayhew has generously allowed me to use the name of her grandmother as a character in Return to Innocence. Beryl Daintry did, in fact, nurse the heroes of the Battle of Britain and many airmen from Canada, South Africa, Australia, Czechoslovakia, and Russia.

Because of Ms. Daintry's nursing in World War I, Dr. McIndoe requested her assistance in developing his hospital practice at E. Grinstead.

Including Ms. Daintry in this story is my way of paying tribute to the many nurses of World War II who helped the wounded and dying transition to their next chapter. Consider reading Dr. Mayhew's book for a look into an unforgettable chapter of medical history.

Freedom has never been cheap, but it has been taken for granted. I appreciate Dr. Mayhew's book which reminds us of its cost.

Chapter 1

"Mon père, mon père!" Shrill screams shattered the night air. Celia shook Roger's shoulders trying to awaken her new husband.

Roger, Roger, wake up! Can you hear me? Wake up.

Ralph crashed the newlywed's door, instinctively jerking Celia away from Roger's flailing swings, thrusting her into Auntie Sybil's open arms.

Come here, child. Let Ralph help him. Sybil's arms encompassed the petite bride of less than a week. Deep heaves raised and lowered Sybil as she tightened her arms around Celia. Gradually, exhaustion subdued the sobs and her young niece who now burrowed into the comforting support of her arms.

Wi-will he be all right, Auntie? Will he be all right?

Sybil patted her back as they stood completely still, watching Ralph carefully approach Roger. The only light in the room was the blue hue of moonlight mixing beauty with tragedy, peace with fear.

Roger, it's me, son. Ralph. I'm going to help you put your arms down. Don't be afraid. You're safe. You're home in England, and you're at the cottage. You're home.

Roger's face dripped with sweat and tears. His arms stretched into the night, hands opening and closing as he groped to find…what? Ralph ducked as one arm swung toward his head and whisked by. Grabbing it, Ralph lowered it to Roger's side. When the second arm stilled, Ralph held them and consoled the young veteran.

Roger, it's over. The war is over.

"I can't find him. Mon père, mon père." Roger sobbed as he tried to break free and reach into the night air. Ralph looked on as he wondered what Roger was groping for, if he hoped to find the hand he lost as his father fell to the ground, machine-gunned on the pasture runway in France?

Ralph turned to Sybil, Take Sis in the other room. I'm going to stay here. You girls try to get some rest. He'll be all right. I'll not let him go until it's safe for him and for me.

Sybil nodded and guided Celia into her room. She kept her wrapped in her arms until Celia climbed into her bed. Sybil tucked her in. I'm not going to leave you. I'm going to sit here next to you.

Auntie, will you lie next to me? I'm so exhausted. Could you just hold me a while?

Of course, honey. Sybil gathered her long nightgown and slid into the bed next to her charge. Try to relax, Sis. Close your eyes. Sybil moved close to her and opened her arms to hold her. Barely five feet tall, Sybil felt Celia trembling as she moved close to her.

Try to rest, Sis. Take some deep breaths and try to close your eyes.

Sybil listened to her own advice and found she could not settle her thoughts, having seen the horrific terror of her nephew. Slowly, quiet returned to the cottage. Ralph remained with Roger while Sybil waited to hear deep breathing come to Celia.

The next morning, the household awakened to clanging pots and the whistling tea kettle on the stove. Sybil busied herself by pounding dough into loaves of bread. Deep in thought, she did not hear Ralph come out of Roger's room, scratching his head as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. Sybil turned to him and held him close. What's happening to my family?

Now, now, we've had a tough night, but it's over. The kids are resting, and we can talk about it later. Ralph hugged her as he continued.

You know, Syb, in all the commotion, I don't think Roger ever woke up. It's hard to believe, but when he relaxed his muscles, and I laid him flat, he was asleep. I watched him for a couple of hours, and he never opened his eyes. And why did he yell in French?

I've been thinking about our time in hospital when he returned from France. You know, everyone thought he might die from his wounds. Sybil looked up at Ralph. He had nightmares and yelled the same thing. The Major said the pilot heard him scream the same phrase as he lay bleeding on the floor of the plane.

What does it mean?

Ralph, his dreams are about his last moments with his father, Jean-Luc.

Roger wandered out of his room. Where's Celia?

Sybil and Ralph exchanged looks, and Auntie Sybil said, She's in my room sleeping.

Why?

Ralph walked to him. Roger, what is the last thing you remember about yesterday?

Why? Roger searched their faces.

Just answer the question. I have my reason for asking.

What's going on? Is Celia all right? His voice quivered.

Yes, honey. Ralph just wants to know what you remember. You had a very vivid dream last night, and you were talking…loudly. It woke her up. That's all.

Well, I remember arriving with the truck and coming to supper. I remember going to bed early. But that's all. Why?

Let's talk about it when Sis gets up. I'll get you a cup of tea. Ralph moved toward him and patted his shoulder. Wash up, and I'll have it waiting for you when you return.

Right, I'll do that now. Roger turned and went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Ralph leaned over to Sybil and whispered, See what I mean? He slept through the whole thing. I wouldn't have believed it if I had not seen it with my own eyes.

No one talked at breakfast. Roger ate everything in sight. He looked around the table and, with his mouth full, finally asked, What's wrong with everyone? Is no one hungry?

Celia put her fork down and push her plate away from her. Taking a deep breath, she asked, Roger, do you remember anything about last night? Anything at all?

He looked up, and with cheeks bulging, he said, About what? Celia sighed, looking at Ralph and Sybil.

Celia excused herself and went into their room. Auntie and Ralph remained still and watched him gorge himself until he could eat no more.

My, that was a scrumptious breakfast. I'm glad no one wanted anything. He leaned back, self-satisfied that his mowing through the victuals complimented his aunt's efforts.

Roger, you and I need to talk. Let's go. Ralph scraped his chair across the wood floor and stood towering over the meager remains on the table.

Where are we going?

Well, for starters, we're going to your house to unload the furniture in the truck.

Auntie remained quiet as she cleared the table. The two men walked out the front of the cottage and down the lane.

As they walked, Ralph asked Roger if he knew he talked in his sleep, even in French. He asked if Roger knew he had terrified the entire household during the night. What concerns me is how gaunt Celia looks. If you have had these nightmares before, it may be because she isn't sleeping.

I had no idea. I know I always think about France before I go to sleep, but I didn't know I acted out the dreams.

"I know you and Sis have just married, but until you can get a handle on your outbursts at night, I think you need to stay with us at night. You never woke up during this episode, and I believe you might hit Sis without realizing what you're doing. She's afraid of you, Roger, afraid of you and for you. They walked in silence. Your aunt and I are here to help you get through this time. I know this will not last, but it may be stormy passing through it. Will you think about it? Staying at the cottage, I mean?"

Well, no offense, old man, but it's not ideal. I never envisioned my honeymoon with so little privacy. It's awkward, if you know what I mean.

Of course, I know what you mean. I never would have mentioned it if it did not concern your wife's safety. She's so small, Roger.

Yes, I know. For that reason alone, I'll agree. One condition, though.

What?

Let's get our house put together so we can have time at the house by ourselves. We need time together…without an audience.

Agreed. Let's get to it.

By midafternoon, most of the heavy furniture had been moved into the house. Of course, it had been stuffed into one room. The men decided if they arranged it, the women would tell them to move it again. Proud of their plan, they could tell it lacked foresight when the women arrived and exclaimed in unison, Oh my goodness!

Sybil took charge, telling Ralph to stay inside to help move the larger pieces. She sent Roger and Celia outside to finish moving in smaller boxes marked fragile. These had been brought to the wedding by Celia's mother without a packing list.

Celia pushed the boxes from the back of the truck when she felt the truck vibrating. She jumped down and stood close to Roger. A thunderous roar came from a distance. Roger turned in the direction of the sound, cupping his hand across his forehead. The sun blocked his vision until the sound poured above his head, revealing the silhouettes of large multi-engine aircraft.

What is it, Roger? Celia shouted, joining him in his sky search.

I don't know, but I think it's a formation of Lancasters traveling the coastline.

Why would they do that?

I can't say, but I heard planes are patrolling for rogue seacraft from the air. Minesweepers have been deployed for locating loose mines. Now that fishermen have returned to their boats, they're in harm's way if a mine hits their craft. The Major said the North Sea is full of those floating bombs. If hit, the boat and crew would disappear instantly.

I'm glad you don't have to help with that chore! Come on, we have so much to do, and I do so want to put up the bed and have one table and chair in place. When they walked inside, the furniture had been separated into the four rooms.

All right, you two, you may not like where the furniture is, but it's a start. At least you can walk around in this room now. Ralph and I are finished until you tell us to return. I'm going home to start dinner. As Sybil walked onto the front porch, she called out, See you at half past six. She waved behind her as the couple stood in the doorway watching Ralph sprint down the lane to catch up to her.

Can you believe we've been married one whole week, Roger? A whole week! Celia looked at her new home with her new husband by her side. She wiped her brow and walked to the stacks of unlabeled boxes from her mother and said to them, You're next. Let's see what my mother thought I needed.

Roger watched his bride dig into the boxes like a child on Christmas morning. Celia is more beautiful today than yesterday. He had repeated this thought every morning since the wedding. But next to this uplifting thought, he wrestled his dark memories of France, Lizette, and an uncertain future.

"Yes, it has been a week. I wish we had married a year ago instead of last week." Roger's voice sounded strident as Celia watched his downcast brow. She felt his tension consuming her when he came close. Instinctively, she reassured herself it had nothing to do with their love for one another, but even this truth didn't help her feelings. She desired one thing and one thing only…to make this brooding fog vanish.

Last week had been happier than this one. Celia's thoughts drifted into how she imagined she would be as Roger's wife. Her mother had never discussed marital intimacy with her when she lived at home. Sybil had become her newfound confidant talking to her about marriage. Celia smiled as she thought about their chats on how to become a godly wife and helpmate to Roger.

Auntie spent time sharing her secrets of loving her husband so hard it changed her into a beautiful wife. "Celia, remember your goal is not to change your husband. It is to change yourself into a bride reflecting the love of Christ for him. See your husband as Christ sees him. As you reflect on this love for him, Christ changes you, and you become more beautiful to him every day. It is a paradox of marriage." Celia had never thought about a paradox in marriage.

Auntie's ability to speak to her spirit confirmed she had moved into her destiny at the cottage. Celia discovered God ordered her future with this family, from the moment she transferred to Newcastle from Bletchley Park.

How she loved those days. But she also loved it now. The war had left a mess in every life it touched, but it had not killed her hope for her future with Roger. She knew her love for him could withstand anything—just anything.

Still, she had not anticipated the ghosts in Roger's dreams. She had not expected their nightly visitation when they gripped her mate, throwing him in every emotional direction. The night terrors left Roger in a discarded heap, shaking and sometimes crying. She had not prepared for this war.

What time is Auntie expecting us for dinner? Roger asked. Celia realized he had not heard her say six thirty.

Why don't we clean up now and go to the cottage? I can always help Auntie finish preparing. You and Ralph can putter or even have a smoke on the beach. I think the beach is beautiful in the early evening, especially without submarines spying on the shoreline.

Roger put down the lamp he unpacked and walked away from the box. He had opened the box but carried its contents from room to room distracted by his thoughts. Celia found him standing motionless, watching nothing. His statuesque posture frightened her.

Roger filled his basin with water and washed his face and neck. He stared into a small bathroom mirror as he reflected on the revelation of his night antics. Having heard all that had been seen, his internal upheaval intensified, leaving him anxious about the upcoming time with his wife and potential witnesses.

He had vague memories of other nocturnal jolts. But he had a large blank void which had not registered or had erased his swinging and screaming, "Mon père! Mon père." By the time he awakened, only his arms swayed aimlessly in the air. I wasn't violently swinging.

What he couldn't explain were his clothes saturated with perspiration along with his disorientation as he came to consciousness. He laid completely still as he tried to make sense of the last minutes…or hours he didn't know, which held the answer.

One thing he knew, this had started before the wedding, but he had not told anyone. He thought, he hoped, it would pass.

Celia had not discussed these events with anyone. She found herself caught between the wonderful intimacy they shared and the dread of the sleeplessness that followed. How could something be so good, so fulfilling turn so quickly to devastation and fright minutes later?

Celia washed her arms and face. The dust from unpacking had left its mark on her freckled complexion and hands. After looking into the mirror, she decided to change her blouse but not the khaki pants from her old war uniform. She looked at the circles under her eyes and hoped Auntie and Ralph wouldn't notice. She poked at them, but the puffiness remained.

Ready? Celia smiled and held out her hand. She loved the walk from their house to the cottage. There were only three homes on the lane. The third home had been confiscated by the government, and the occupants had been relocated into the interior of the country. The owners never returned after the war ended. At least not yet.

Come in, come in. Sybil sang her words. And how is my lovely family this evening?

Auntie, we are fine. We have almost unpacked everything, but I could use some help placing things if you have time. I love where you and Ralph moved the furniture. Celia sounded strained as if pushing to sound calm.

"Yes, I thought it looked nice. I'll come in the morning. Let's cook your dinner for tomorrow night and make a cake while I'm there. You and Roger can have a quiet meal together. Believe it or not, I still have some ration stamps, enough for a cake, I think.

Roger, how's my boy? Auntie had her big smile on as she came up to him to look him in the eye. You look knackered, honey. Did you have time for a nap? She could tell by Roger's silence something had upset him.

Oh, I'm fine. Just finding the moving and unpacking tiresome. We've been at it all day, you know. Roger sighed as he spoke, avoiding eye contact.

Why don't you go out and see if you can find Ralph. I haven't seen him in hours. When he gets quiet, I know he's up to no good. I have to keep an eye on him. Never have I seen anyone putter around so much.

Roger smiled as he listened to Auntie's love language. He knew she loved Ralph's little projects which she called puttering. He dropped Celia's hand and headed for the back door.

Auntie, do you need help with dinner? Before she could say anything else, Auntie gave her the squint-eye.

Celia, I hope you're planning to stay here tonight. There's too much confusion in boxes stacked on top of each other and narrow pathways leading to the other rooms. Right now, you need some order.

She nodded and sighed. Yes, that would be nice.

Now, suppose you tell me what's going on. Tell me about the last week. Sybil poured two cups of tea and placed them on the small round table and patted the place next to her for Celia to sit down.

When Celia finished her story of the last seven nights, Auntie sat transfixed. Celia had been careful to tell her first what a gentle lover and husband Roger had been. But after she said this, the description of the remainder of her nights sounded like a horror film.

As she listened, Auntie remembered Roger's stay at the hospital when he returned from France. She had seen his flesh ripped open from the bullets that had narrowly missed his heart and the one which rested deep within Roger's shoulder.

Sybil had not flinched the night she wiped Roger's tears as he told her about Jean-Luc's death. Today, however, she wept as her precious Celia shared the torment of the last week. As she listened to Sis describe her sitting, coiled in a knot, watching Roger scream, disoriented with wild flailing, Sybil felt her chest rip open in pain. As she reflected on her time at the hospital and Celia's story, she knew Roger bore an unseen wound which had broken his heart.

Why haven't you told me what's been going on? Ralph and I are here for you. Sybil got up from her chair and checked the food in the oven, wiping her hands on her apron. She went to the back door to look for the boys. She wondered why she still thought of the two grown men as boys, but she could not stop calling them boys in her thoughts.

Yes, you two are spending the night here tonight. I've a gown for you, and the boys always seem to like sleeping in as little as possible, she said, shaking her head with a bit of chuckle that brought a smile to Celia's face.

You know, Roger still sleeps in full pajamas buttoned to his neck. I probably shouldn't tell you that, but I seem to tell you everything.

Sybil smiled to herself and said in a half whisper, half sigh, Give it time, honey, give it time. Silence fell, neither revealing their quiet thoughts.

As Ralph and Roger loudly entered the back door, stamping their sandy feet on the floormat, the women jumped with a start. They listened to Ralph expounding on the advantages of all-night fishing. Sybil watched Roger nodding his head at the appropriate intervals adding an occasional smile.

You're just in time for a piping hot meal, pulling her shepherd's pie from the oven. This meal remained a standard since vegetables and flour seemed plentiful most of the time. As usual, the missing ingredient remained the meat. Rabbit remained scarce since everyone who knew how to shoot a rifle practiced on the little bunnies. A successful shot added meat to the pot. Even though the war had ended, rationing continued, and meat remained a pleasant surprise for any meal.

Wash your hands if you haven't done it and sit. I want a hot meal for a change, and I can't remember when everyone has been seated at the same time.

Chairs scraped the wooden floor, and a ready audience watched the bowls find their places on the table.

Ralph? Sybil reached for his hand as she closed her eyes.

Ralph bowed his head, taking the hands of Sybil and Celia. They, in turn, took Roger's hands, completing the circle. Ralph cleared his throat, Bless us, O Lord, with these thy gifts which we are about to receive through thy bounty. He paused, looking at Celia and Roger, then at Sybil, all of whom had their heads still bowed. And thank you for giving me a family. Amen.

Sybil looked up and smiled at everyone. Pass me your bowls, please. She served large portions for the men and smaller ones for the women. She knew Celia wouldn't be hungry with all they had talked about, but she didn't want it to be evident to the men.

So what were you two cooking up when you came through the door? she asked.

Roger and I want to go fishing and spend the night on the water. I know I can borrow the sheriff's boat, and we'll anchor in sight of land. But you know the fish are bigger the farther out you go. Ralph smiled as he revealed the plan.

And just what are we women supposed to do while you two are on the high seas? Her voice took a playful tone, causing Roger to aim for his answer.

Why, Auntie, you and Celia need to get ready to clean the fish when we come in, tired from the strenuous sea voyage and the catch we'll bring you!

Oh no you don't, my young man. You catch them. You clean them. My delicate hands do not like fish insides dripping all over them. Celia let out a laugh and pushed back in her chair.

I totally agree, Auntie. My brothers always came in with fish from the lake and threw them on the table. My mum would block the doorway as she pointed her wooden spoon at the fish. ‘Take them outside and clean them. Give the heads to the cats.' She would use her spoon to swat their legs if they hesitated.

That's exactly what's going to happen here, but I'll have to get something larger than a spoon, I think. Sybil smiled as she laid down the rules, and everyone laughed until the atmosphere felt lighter.

I know you two want to smoke and drink while you tell fish tales, Sybil looked at the men. I happen to know the smaller the fish, the bigger the lie. Roger, I'm warning you, Ralph tells the biggest yarns you've ever heard. He's worse than ever.

I'll be careful, Auntie. I'm pretty good at lying myself. Roger looked away, then stared into emptiness. I feel I have lived one long lie over the last five years. Roger's voice dropped off as he stared, transfixed in silence. Everyone watched his departure, then cut their eyes to one another. No one spoke as a wave of sadness rolled over Roger like a giant ocean swell.

Celia put her fork down on the plate and whispered his name, Roger? She squeezed his hand.

Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I saw something outside. Roger started eating again, staring at his plate.

I have a wonderful idea, Sybil said with as much jocularity as she could muster. Why don't you two stay up here tonight and get a good night's sleep? No mess or pressure to empty any more boxes tonight. Then Ralph and I will go down to the house with you in the morning to help you finish putting your furniture in order.

Before Roger could respond, Celia interjected, Say, that is a smashing idea. We're making progress, but it is slow. I would love the extra arms and ideas.

Ralph looked startled at Sybil, who signaled him to hush with her eyebrows. Then everyone looked at Roger as he awkwardly agreed, Yes, this sounds smashing. Roger spoke just above a whisper, wondering what had just happened.

When the meal ended, Roger and Ralph pulled out their pipes and, in unison, tapped out the old residue, then reloaded the tobacco. They stood shoulder to shoulder at the back door, and as they stepped onto the ground, Auntie called to Roger, Honey, come in here and help dry the dishes. I want to take a short walk to the shore and look at the stars with my sweetheart.

The darkness muted Ralph's blush when he heard Sybil call him sweetheart. Sybil came out as Roger turned to go inside. Sybil stood on her tiptoes, whispering in Ralph's ear, I need to talk to you about something. They followed the path they had walked so many times during the war. The trenches had been filled in, and Ralph had stored the machine guns despite being told to relinquish them at the depot in Newcastle. He had forgotten as he carefully cleaned and oiled them, placing them in the shed.

Sybil stopped on the path and recounted Celia's story about Roger's night terrors. Poor dear, she has not slept one full night since the wedding. She's sitting in a rocker with her knees wrapped in her arms watching her husband fight and flail, yelling for his dead father.

Buggers! That poor little girl. Ralph thought of Celia as his own since he had taken on the role of guardian over Sybil's property during the war. He loved her like a daughter, giving her the pet name Sis.

Ralph, I want you to sleep with Roger tonight and maybe for several nights until this stops. I don't think Roger is aware of what's happening because Celia said she slips back into the bed and pretends to be sleeping as he starts waking up. She is exhausted.

Sure, sure. I'll do whatever you think is best. Does Roger need to go to the hospital?

"No, love, I think