oner.” “Bloody hell! So he died right?” “No way man. Nobody messes with my granddad when he’s pissed.” "Quick Dan .... Come in here, it’s the news!" Harry’s wife s houted excitedly. “They’ve arrested a man.” Leaping out of the chair he got to the television set just in time to see a photograph of the man.
‘The man from Antrim was later released after Security forces realised their mistake in arresting The truck driver. And that’s it from me Sheldon McLain News at ten, and now the weather...'
"That’s not him..! Those idiots arrested the wrong m an..! Sod this for a game of Soldiers, I’m off down the pub." Danny said then picked up his coat and strode briskly out of the door before Harry could stop him. "Harry, you know he needs psychiatric help." Claire cried. He grabbed his coat and made for the door. "Are you going to tell him or shall I?" Claire burst into tears. "For Gods sake catch him Harry." She sobbed. "Before he does something stupid... I don't know why he had to stay here anyway, he's got other friends. Why couldn't he have stayed in camp or with Jim or Matt Clarke?" She lit a cigarette. "Not now woman." He snapped. “Just not now." He felt very guilty and annoyed, his wife had voiced the feelings he had been trying so hard to hide. "I’ll find him; I think he’s gone to the shack... See you later." Harry left leaving his wife to cry as she had done every night since the murder. The 'Shack' as it was affectionately known was once a Gestapo hangout, a candle in the night for weary war beaten German soldiers. Nothing much had changed in the last fifty years only the place was dirtier, draughtier and the candles had been exchanged for dimmed lights. The clientele may have been a different nationality, but they like their forerunners really didn't care where they got drunk. When Harry entered the building it was almost empty except for Sabina who ran the place and two elderly locals sat in the corner playing the same dice game they had been for years. "Hallo Sabina, haben Si e Danny gesehen?" Harry said in his military class three German. She smiled and motioned toward the toilet. "Ah gut, dann zwei Bier bitte." Sabina laughed. "It’s Ok you can speak English in here." "It’s alright Ha rry, I’ve already ordered." Danny cried as the toilet door swung shut behind him. "You’re going to get drunk?" "Maybe...” "What's the point?" "Oh go home to your wife while you’ve still got one." "Sod that." Harry replied. "She's sat at home crying her little heart out.... I think I’ll hang out here for a while." The drinks came thick and fast disappearing into the guts of the two men with equal speed. The required effect was soon in evidence. "Hey you..! Ye s I’m talking to you.” Danny slurred and spilled some beer as he slammed the glass back on the table. “Box head'! I’m speaking to you ….” "Verpiss dich Englander." The big German growled menacingly and glared at the Soldier. "What did you say, you piece of Kraut shit." Cried Danny angrily, rising unsteadily to his feet and knocking over his drink which crashed to the floor and smashed . "Well if you want it in English." Replied the German. "I said piss off .. . Why don’t all you island monkey’s just go home, we don’t need any of you here! " He then looked at his friend