Battles Lost and Won Read Online Free PDF Page B

show my son I can face life with courage, just like him.’
    When the scullery door had closed behind Alf, Ruth looked enquiringly at her mother. ‘Do you think he can sober up, Mum?’
    ‘Only the Lord knows.’
    ‘What made him like that?’
    ‘The war. He was in the trenches in France and watched all his friends die. Helen said he had terrible nightmares when he came back, and he started to drink so he could sleep. The trouble was he couldn’t stop.’ Daisy sat beside her daughter. ‘The men saw terrible things during that war and their mental scars might never heal completely.’
    ‘Dad was all right though, wasn’t he?’ Ruth’s inquisitive mind wouldn’t let the subject drop. Her mother had warned her not to ask the men anything about the war, so she knew very little. ‘He wasn’t in France, was he?’
    ‘No, he was in the Navy. There was a big battle at a place called Jutland, and he was there. His ship was sunk and lots of the men died, but by some miracle he survived.’
    ‘Oh!’ Ruth’s mouth opened in surprise. ‘He’s never said anything about it.’
    ‘And I don’t think he ever will. None of the men ever talk about their experiences in the war. It’s too hard for them, and that’s why I told you kids not to go asking questions.’
    ‘I never have.’
    ‘I know.’ Daisy smiled at her daughter. ‘We must keep an eye on Alf, and pray he can keep off the drink at last.’
    When Ruth undressed to get ready for bed she found the money Bob had put back in her pocket. ‘Oh, Bob, why didn’t you take it?’ She was upset that he’d refused her help. ‘You’re going to need a bit of extra money, because I know you can’t have much. I wanted you to have it!’

Five
    Time lost all meaning as Alfred Hunter began his struggle. He tossed through the night, moaning in pain as his body craved alcohol, incapable of doing anything but curl up on the bed in distress. At one point he must have tumbled down the stairs because he found himself frantically searching every inch of the small house looking for a drink.
    With a cry of anguish he sunk to his knees and wept for the wreck he had become. No wonder his son had left him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a movement, and when he turned his head he saw a multicoloured snake climbing up the wall. When it grinned at him he screamed at it to go away. Somehow he found the strength to stand, and holding on to the table for support with one hand, he shook his fist at the ridiculous apparition. ‘You can bloody well disappear. I’m not ever going touch another drop of drink!’
    His fist slammed on the wall. ‘This ends now!’
    ‘All right, Alf.’ Strong hands helped him into a chair. ‘Put the kettle on, Daisy. Ruth, go and get the iodine and a bandage. He’s split his knuckles.’
    Alf looked up at the man giving quiet orders. ‘The bloody thing grinned at me, Steve. I’m not having that. I’ve got to beat this. My wife died and my boy’s left me. I need to know he’s all right. It’s a tough world out there; he shouldn’t be alone. I don’t care how hard it is, I’m staying off the booze!’
    ‘You hold on to that thought because you’re going to need it. You’ve got some rough days ahead of you, mate.’
    The tears still ran down Alf’s ravaged face as he gulped the hot tea from the cup Daisy held up to his mouth. When that was empty it was refilled, and while he drank that, Ruth saw to his damaged hand.
    The next few days were just a blur, but Alf was aware of Steve and his family taking care of him. In a lucid moment he recognized just how much he owed them because the withdrawal from drink was so dreadful. He knew he would never make it without their support. Somehow he would repay them for their kindness.
    Church bells woke him up early one morning, and he opened his eyes cautiously. There was nothing crawling up the walls, and he had actually slept all night. Afraid to move in case the torment returned, he closed his eyes