The sound was like a thud, thud, thud. My mind began to wander. What hell were those young men going through? I wanted to bring them home. Bathe them ...eed them and love each and everyone one of them. Motherly love you could say.In the summer of 1916, I heard the tragic news that Mr. Simon had been killed in action. He was my friend and mentor at the bookshop. Again the shop closed for a few days as a mark of respect. That evening I was trying to enjoy a glass of apple wine but my thoughts were. "One hell of an explosion! It got through, too. Ain't supposed to be able to do that. I hope it makes it easier for them to get us out. I have a hell of a headache."There was a tapping on the van and the same voice I heard before said, "You guys alive in there?"I didn't find that amusing at all.I moved over to the crack in the back door and said, "No, we're all dead!" Umm, is that you John?" I heard as a response."Yes." What the fuck are you doing in there?" Waiting to get out." No. I mean .... More

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