The legionnaires

The Legionnaires

From Oslo to Lyon, on a train, is a long way, it was
1961, but Tom and I talked a lot had planes we’re
going to join the foreign legion, a life fit for heroes.
We found the relevant office, medical examination,
they didn’t like my heart and they were not chuffed
about my lungs. Alone I was at the Lyon’s railway
going home; and alone it was an endless journey.
For once mother was silent, I ate a whole loaf with
marge and blueberry jam, felt sorry for myself, not
good enough for the bloody French; and Tom didn’t
even bother to say farewell, but over the years I often
wondered what had happened to him, till I saw, in
the park, a man older than his years- scruffy and
reeking of booze- I knew it was him, Tom; cowardly
I walked another way. You see, I had landed a good
job was now middle class and respectable and the old
days had gone; yet, Tom had come home I really have
to go talk to him some day.