𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎; 𝙰 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚗

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ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛs fᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪfs ᴛᴏ ʙɪʟʟɪᴇʟɪsʜ ᴏɴ ɪᴍɢᴜʀ  

ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛs fᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪfs ᴛᴏ ʙɪʟʟɪᴇʟɪsʜ ᴏɴ ɪᴍɢᴜʀ  

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"Come below, it's out of the wind," George said to the soldier, a cup of warm tea in his hands. He wanted to give it to man, but the soldier shook with his head and curled back in his blanket.

"George, leave him be. He needs some fresh air," Mary whispered in his ear so that the man didn't have to hear it.

"No, but really, it is warmer."

The soldier slapped the cup out of the boy's hand, it broke against the wooden bench and the glass shattered over the deck. He still hadn't said a word, but the stare in his eyes held a thousand words.

"He feels safer on deck. You would too if you'd been bombed –"

"U-boat. It was a U-boat," was the first thing he said. He didn't look at the person he spoke to, only at the girl who cleaned up the mess he made. She was very young, too young to be on this boat. She had brought herself in much danger and this plan of rescue could kill her. The soldier wanted to say something about it, but no normal sentence was forming in his mind.


"You are being stupid."

"Thank you for the compliment." She didn't look at the soldier, but walked to a bin where she could throw away the broken cup. Her hands were covered with the tea that was still in the shards of the cup, her skin smelled like the leaves her father used in the hot drink. She took a towel that laid in the cabinets and used it to dry away the tea.

"You don't understand how dangerous it is."

"That's right, I don't."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because I can help," she answered rather quickly.

"You'll get killed."

"Well, I will die knowing that I tried my best."

The soldier stared at her, but didn't say any more words. The girl wouldn't change her mind, not even by the horrors he could tell. He rested his head against the side of the boat, but he didn't close his eyes so he could sleep. There would be too many nightmares flashing in front of his eyes. 

She looked with worry at her brother, who stood next to her. Peter only smiled in response and told her to sit down with a friendly tone in his voice. He grabbed one of the blankets and covered her bare shoulders with the warm fabric. It was getting later in the afternoon and the cold wind got extremer. Their father looked between the two, happy that they had each other to hold on to.

"Peter, George, you should rest a bit. I'll tell you if I need your help," he said, the youngest sat down on the ground and Peter took place on the other side of the bench were the soldier sat, giving him enough space to breath.



"There is someone in the water!"

"Where?"

"There!" Mary pointed at the person drifting in the water. She could see how his arms moved around, trying desperately to get out of the sea. Loud screams escaped his mouth, he was in pain and needed someone to patch him up.


"What are you doing?," her father asked when he noticed how she unbuttoned her dress and slid it off her thin arms. She was wearing some undergarments underneath her clothes, a simple set of short trousers and a top with very thin straps. These clothes weren't as large as her loose dress, they were tight around her body and much more practical in the water.

"Give me the rope," she said to George, who had no idea what was happening. The boy gave a bit to her brother so he could help with lifting her and the soldier on the boat. He then ran to the young lady and handed it to her. Mary made a knot around her wrist so she wouldn't lose it and dove inside the cold waters of the sea.

"Hold on, help is on the way!," Mr. Dawson screamed to the wounded man.


Mary swam as fast as she could toward him. The salt water went inside her mouth and eyes, her nostrils were filled with the smell of the sea. There were many waves hitting in her face, the water had a dark blue tint and felt very cold on the skin. She normally enjoyed swimming, but then wished that she never had to go into the sea again.

When Mary reached the screaming soldier, his face was turned into the water. He had no strength anymore to turn on his back, the clothes he wore were too heavy to fight against. Mary turned him around with her own hand, demanding his body to lay on its back. She needed his mouth and nose out of the sea, so he could breath and wouldn't drown. When the young lady turned his face towards hers, a large wound inside his forehead was revealed. A bomb must have fallen onto wood close to him, so that it shattered onto his face. Big parts of skin were gone, the salt and bacteria in the water had infected the wound very badly. It looked horrible, the man must be glad he didn't have to see it on himself.

The young lady was in shock from the wound, she didn't expect to see this on the man. But he wasn't screaming anymore, he looked rather peaceful. The soldier stared into the light brown eyes and maybe he saw someone else in them. Maybe he saw someone he missed, someone he had left behind to fight in the war. The man raised his hand out of the sea and rested it on her blushed cheeks. His tumb brushed over her skin and he started whispering to the person he recognized in her stare.

"I am sorry, my love," he said. 


"Thank you," was the last thing he whispered, before closing his eyes and breathing out his last breath. Mary started to shake his shoulders as much as she could, waking him up from the everlasting sleep. She didn't want this man to die, she didn't want anyone to die.

Peter pulled on the rope that was attached to her wrist, trying to take her back to the boat. Mary didn't want to return, she had tears in her eyes and her hands were still on the man, pushing and pulling him around. She tried so hard, but she couldn't do anything. The soldier was dead and she couldn't bring him back. A loud sob escaped her lips and the tears rolled over her face.

"I'll help you. Please, wake up," she said to him with a desperate voice, but the man's eyes were closed and didn't open anymore.

Mary said farewell to the soldier and drifted him in the water, away from them so his body couldn't float in front of the boat. She turned her gaze to the boat and swam very slowly, there was no strength in her arms and the headache she started to feel was too painful for her. George pulled her out of the water, with the help of her brother and gave her back the blanket she had on before. The shivering soldier said no words, but motioned to the siblings that they could take a seat next to him. He wasn't in a healthy mental state, but he did understand the shock the young lady just experienced. 

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