This is not going to be a long piece
Why should it be
In short during the final months of the war
I had rescued a wounded footballer
As he stumbled towards the enemy lines
Another rake of machine gun fire
Would have finished him off
He had been shot just above the knee
And was obviously in great pain
As well as suffering from concussion
I knew who he was and imagined
Him dressed it the red shirt of our nation
Running skilfully down the wing
But this was not a football field
But a battlefield where men died
I managed to drag him to safety
He survived the war
I survived the war
And peace returned
That was the whole idea
If you want peace fight wars
About three years later
The national side was in town
Gatjeans was no long playing
The bullet wound had seen to that
But he was playing an important role
In creating a national side to be proud of
I had returned to my bookshop
And ran it with my wife
On the Tuesday before the game
Gatjeans walked into my shop
And asked for me
He had aged and there was a sadness
In his pale blue eyes
This was something that I recognised
Only too often after the war
He had brought a football for my son
That was his gift to me
For saving his life on that bleak day
We shared tea and he said that
He would not thank me
As I had done what he might of done
If our roles had been reversed
This I understood fully
His greatest wish was that we remain friends