Open Writing

I didn't know Raymond Shepherd very well. He was older than most of us at Sunday School and had just started taking a class of his own. That is what used to happen in those days. When you got a bit too old to stay in a class and if you had learnt most of the Bible stories and had a good attendance record, everybody expected you to be made a teacher. Everybody expected me to be made a teacher when I was old enough, but I wasn't too sure.

But back to Raymond Shepherd.

When he became eighteen he was called up and, of course, stopped coming, apart from a couple of times when he showed up in RAF uniform. Everyone made a fuss of him and he was allowed to sit on the platform with the superintendent, Mr Sowerby, and Mrs Sowerby, who played the piano.

On the occasion I am writing about Mr Sowerby asked us to pray for Raymond Shepherd. He asked God to comfort Lillian Shepherd, Raymond's mother, and his sisters Julia and Noreen. Then he asked God to protect all those serving in our Armed Forces and all those serving in the Armed Forces of our allies, who were selflessly risking their lives in order that we might all live in freedom again. I didn't understand why we had to pray for Raymond and I asked Miss Caine about it when we broke up into our classes.

"He was killed," she said, "in a flying accident. Last week. It was dreadful."

"Was he bombing Germany?" I asked. "Or was he shot down in a dog-fight with Messerschmitts?"

"I think it was a training flight in Scotland. He hadn't been in the RAF very long."

"What happened?"

Miss Caine didn't seem to like all these questions. She had been telling us about the loaves and fishes and wanted to get back to the story.

"Why are you asking all these questions, Derek? I don't know all the details. I only know that he died."

"Was he in a plane that crashed? How did they know it was him? Was he in pieces? Did they collect all the bits and put them in a box?"

The others were giggling and shoving each other.

Miss Caine was shocked.

"Derek, you shouldn't think about such things. Raymond died and we should pray for him and his family. Now we're going to talk about loaves and fishes."

But I thought a lot about Raymond and how he had died. Eventually, if the war went on for a long time, I would be called up. I did not want to drown or be burnt to death in a tank. I thought that the best way to go would be with a bullet in the head or heart. I had not thought of a plane crash. If Raymond had ended up in pieces, it would be terrible for the people who had to find the pieces and put them in a box marked Raymond Shepherd or, perhaps, just Shepherd. How did they get all the boxes home to Mrs Shepherd?

I dreamt about Raymond.

He was sitting in the cockpit of his plane, smiling to himself and moving swiftly through the clouds. Then there was an explosion and he began to look worried. Now the plane was on the ground in pieces scattered over a huge field. Raymond's head was sticking up out of the grass and pieces of his flying suit containing other bits of him were lying around. Suddenly they started moving towards the head and gradually joined themselves together and then to the head to form a complete Raymond Shepherd. He was standing up, smiling, with just a few scratches on his face. He was looking at me and then he held his hand out. I started to move forward and had almost reached him when I woke up. It was as I woke up that I thought how pleased his mother would be that he was all in one piece.

I thought of telling Miss Caine about the dream and asking her if she thought it meant anything. But I decided not to, because she hadn't seemed to understand what was worrying me. None of the others in the class knew who Raymond Shepherd was. I didn't know Mrs Shepherd or Julia or Noreen, but I said a prayer for them. I didn't say a prayer for Raymond, because I didn't think anyone could do anything for him.