Boom!! Showered in a deluge of mud I dodge and weave my way through a minefield of broken bodies and spitting bullets. I see Jimmy my best friend ahead, his tin helmet hunkered down. I can only watch as his pale face looks up, his boyish good looks exploding as a shell obliterates his head.

‘No!!’ I scream, as I slip and slid across the mud my rifle crackling wildly. Cradling him in my arms I feel his warm blood flow down my arms. But there is no time for tears.

 ‘Murderers!!’ I shout, before diving into the enemy and blindly lashing out. In the distance I see my Sergeant screaming at me. But all I really hear is the blood pounding in my veins, my heart throbbing with white-hot passion. Then I see the scared little boy in front of me. In his ill-fitted uniform his innocent blue eyes plead with me to save him from all the madness and despair. I can imagine his family out there, a Mother wearing black, watching patiently from a window; her insides twisted with worry.

   But it is to late; hate has the upper hand as I fire a burst at him and watch as his body jerks spoinakly like a rag doll. I can only watch as his dark blood flows into the mud. As I drop my gun my tears flow down my cheeks as my madness is exhausted. A gun sways round into my direction. Time slows down.

 A brain searing flash lights my eyes.

Then everything goes black.

      I awake to the sound of rain hammering upon the window. As I lie there, my breath wheezing like an ancient bellow, I listen to the slowly ticking of the clock. Next doors television reverberates in the distance, the late night movie reaching a crescendo. Outside, youths stagger home from the pub, their drunken antics telling me it is kicking out time Fumbling, my fingers clutch at my beloved white stick. The bed sheets are soaked where I’ve twist and turned my tired limbs into a thick layer of sweat and fear.

  Getting up I slowly make my way down the eighteen stairs, my feet making a soft squeak on the threadbare carpet as I softly count the steps like a mantra.

When you get to my age nothing scares you anymore. Nightmares are mere bad memories that linger in my mind like a flickering horror show. I’ve seen it all in my eighty plus years on this mortal coil.

  When you get to my age managing three flights of stairs in a tower block, getting the bus and your pension is more a nightmare than the radio’s continual soap opera of death and destruction, which I listen to daily. I just wish I could forget the ocean of mud and death; that boys pleading face; Jimmy’s exploding face.

    With my stick I tap a steady rhythm as I make my way across the concrete kitchen floor to where the kettle is whistling its happy tune.

I can feel the chill breeze wrapping around my legs. Feeling my way to the back door a dense blanket of night air hits me, making me cough and sputter. Something is wrong here. I know I shut and locked the door before retiring for the night.

My blood runs cold as I hear something. It is someone breathing; I can hear the rasp of their throat as they fight the freezing chill of the flat. I can almost see tendrils of icy breath floating through the air.

‘Who’s there?’ Nothing, just the bubbling of hot water as the kettle boils, and outside the keen wind blows strongly though the trees. But I know someone is still there, hiding in the darkest shadows. Wielding my white stick before me I pour the hot water, my ears attuned to the slightest sound. I hear a dog barking in the next street, the wail of a police car in the distance. But I know someone is in the flat with me. In my mind I feel the beating of their heart; the ticking of their brain as they watch me, a sad, lonely old man with dark glasses and a white stick. What have I got that they could possibly want?

‘What do you want from me?’ I call out, this time louder. My voice penetrates the darkness before being swallowed whole. ‘I have no money. I have nothing expect my dignity.’ I can smell him, his cheap aftershave; the mints he sucks to take away the bitter taste of life. ‘I know your there. Just because I can’t see you, I can still hear and smell you.’

Cautiously, I make my way into the living room. Waving my stick like a light sabre before me I search blindly before me. Whacking my knees on the coffee table I curse my quarry. Then I see him in my minds eye; a bare waif of a boy; his frightened clear blue eyes staring, his youthful features set in frozen fear. He is wearing the ill-fitting German uniform, and he has come to collect me and take me to hell for my dishonest past.

‘I’m sorry for what I’ve done,’ I say, falling down onto my knees in dismay. ‘It was crazy back then; scared that your next breath would be your last.’

No reply, just the harsh rattle of his breath as he toys with me.

‘Please forgive me, but James was my best mate. I just reacted like any other would. I’ve had to live with my guilt all my life.’

He answers by gurgling to himself like a drain. Then the sound of drawer being opened, the contents rifled through.

‘Is it my medal your after; my heroes medal for acting stupidly in action. You can have it, I never deserved it.’

Another chuckle as I hear the drawer throw across the room.

‘I got what I deserve. I’m a coward, not a hero. This is my reward for what I’ll done to you; blindness,’ I scream, throwing my glasses at him and rubbing my eyes. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough all these years,’ I cry.

Then the breath is knocked from my body as a heavy bulk cannons me backwards. Clutching blindly I grab the arm of my favourite armchair, falling in a heap of heaving tissue and aching bone.

His face is inches away from mine. I can almost taste his cheap cologne, the gel that styles his greasy receding hair.

‘It’s the money I want, not your wartime rubbish stories,’ he utters. The voice sounds slightly slurred, with a hint of a foreign accent. His breath smells of rotting teeth and cheap whiskey. Then he hits me, a hard punch to the temple that makes my brain feel warm and cosy.

When I come to the first thing my brain registers are bright flashing lights. They sparkle, before exploding like glittering fireworks leaving an afterglow that hurt the back of my eyes.

 He is sitting opposite in the faded leather chair. I hear its creak as he fidgets upon its cracked surface

‘Just listen and shut up. Where’s all your money?’

‘I haven’t got any.’ I scream back.

‘Bet its hidden in some stupid place, like under the mattress. You old codgers are all the same, stupid and full of a war that happened in the distant past,’ he says, spitting in my face.

‘I’ve suffered enough because of that stupid war. My mates died fighting that war to give people like you a better life, and what do you do; waste it away,’ I cry, anger taking hold of my fear.

Wielding my stick like a club I connect with my assailant’s head. Grunting with pain he staggers away knocking furniture over in a bid to escape my onslaught.

‘You crazy old fool,’ he screams, ‘you could have killed me. Nothing worth stealing here anyway, expect your guilt, plenty of that.’

As he leaves, slamming the door shut a sharp pain enters my chest. Falling to the floor in a heap I can only clutch my chest as I find it hard to breathe.

As the end creeps ever nearer I see Tina, my childhood wife in my minds eye. She’s sitting under an apple blossom tree we used to have in the garden, the sunlight sparkling upon her golden curls.

  Apple blossom falls like snow around her as she calls me over.

‘Come on sweetheart, its time to let go and be happy. No more nightmares.’

‘I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t have a choice. I was fighting for my life, for the life of my friends and for the future freedom of our children,’ I tell her, tears falling down my cheeks.

‘I know honey, nobody blames you, least of all Kurt.’

‘Kurt?’ I ask.

‘The German boy you killed all them years ago. He’s waiting here, waiting to welcome you. Forget your pain, let your guilt wash away. Let the past stay where it belongs, in the past,’ she tells me, urging me toward the light.

As the tunnel of light beckons me on a calm surrounds me. After all at my age there’s nothing to be scared about, is there?