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