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A True Story?
A True Story?
The mist blew in from the North Sea. Soon everything was covered in a damp layer of wetness. I could feel the first sneeze building up in my left nostril. Aatishoo the sneeze was loud; a voice wished me Gesundheit. I had not heard this expression for a long time. Automatically I answered in German, Danke.
I looked around me but could see no one. I thought the mist is coming in fast I had better see that I got home as quickly as possible. Straining my eyes trying to see the names of the roads I went completely of the right path. I decided to wait for a few minutes to see whether anyone came along that I could ask for the right direction.
Another sneeze and again Gesundheit, my automatic response was Danke again. Then a figure loomed from out of the mist that had by now developed into a thick fog. I have caught up with you again; I seemed to have lost you in all of this fog. Now I saw the man that had wished me good health in the German language. To be exact I saw the man’s white cane and I could just make out the armband on his arm. My unknown German-speaking stranger was blind.
He spoke again, “are we both going in the right direction?” I hope so I replied I live in Cornwall Street. The blind man, Oh! That is good for I live in the next road to Cornwall Street. I must admit I had no idea of where we were. “May I take your arm? The blind man asked. I felt a right fool; I should have offered him my arm when I saw his blind stick and the armband on his arm. He hung on to my arm and actually guided me until he spoke again. “This must be number twenty four. You are now safely home. I will leave you, I have only a few minutes walk and I too will be home.”
I heard him walking along quite casually as if he knew every step of the way. I opened my door and went into the living room. Greeting my Wife I told her of the meeting with the blind man. Of my sneezing in the mist and of his wishing me Gesundheit. My wife turned quite pale you say he spoke German and was blind. My wife sank heavily into a chair and said, don’t you know that Herr Schmidt passed away three years ago. There is no blind man living in the next street. Now it was my turn to flop down in my easy chair.
My wife spent the evening asking me all about my blind guide, How tall was he, did he tell me anything about his life during the Second World War? The blind man was an Airman or better a Pilot he had made many an air raid over Great Britain. After the war he came over to England to apologise for the terrible bombing raids and the loss of life through his actions. During his stay he met his wife and married her. A car accident caused his blindness; it cannot be the same man I told my wife. Then she told me that I was not the first person that he had escorted home. Whenever fog appeared a blind man had helped them back to their homes; that spoke with a German accent.
The following day I checked with the local records and yes the German airman that had made his home here in England was listed as dying three years ago.
I am willing to swear on the Holy Bible that this is a true story. How many more people will be helped before this German Airman finds his peace?
