In The Small Hours: The Locket
John Brian Leaver tells of finding a treasure in the snow - and of a family who lost the greatest of all treasures.
In the harsh portracted winter of 1939/40 the snow lay far-down deep, unevenly wind driven, frozen crisp. I was going on eight at the time.
The exposed lane leading to my home was heavily mantled with sno. The occasional tip of a field fence post protruded fitfully, as if coming up for air, a welcome pointer to help keep one's bearings. I had a fear of straying and falling into a deep drift while picking my way home from school in the fading late afternoon, although just enough light remained to draw my attention to a faint gleam in a fold of snow. I gingerly pulled gingerly on what appeared to be a fine chain, releasing it slowly from its prison of compacted snow. The chain was attached to a heart-shaped gold locket.
On releasing the locket's catch I saw a head-and-shoulders photograph of a young soldier whose uniform was buttoned to the neck. It was John, the only son of one of our near neighbours. The locket belonged to his younger sister.
The family was delighted when I returned the locket. John's mdother gave me a half-crown, a king's ransom.
John, who served in the Second Battalion of the King's Regiment, was killed in action on June 26, 1944. He was 24. He is buried in the Assisi War Cemetery in Perugia, Italy.
Following hsis death our neighbour's home was never the same. That locket which I found in the snow became the guardian of silent sorrow.
As time passed, John's father wandered the local lanes, looking for his lost son.
