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    Mancunian
  • Mancunian
  • Author
  • 11/03/2019
  • 1,556 Words
  • 2,865 Views
  • 17 Comments
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
This story has been revised and edited to improve the reader experience, it has not been altered in any other way.

Lost Soul - The Ox - 1. Part 1

The Major was a serving officer in military intelligence, this has affected him and is part of what has made him the man he is today. This is the start of his story and does include reference to conflict and death. It's a touching story so have the tissues ready.
Please remember that this is fiction and some literary license may be used.

It was a cold morning in March. The gardens outside were immaculate, as usual. The air was crisp, the sky was clear and bright, and the sun, low in the sky at this time of the year, was blinding. The early morning signs of frost had melted away on the lawn, the last snowdrops were in bloom, and soon it would be time for the daffodils and tulips to send forth their first shoots. As he left the hospital, he cast his gaze at the surrounding buildings. They looked drab painted in grey with white window and door frames, the rooves painted in a mosaic of different shades of brown, green and grey. All normal as was to be expected, they comprised various offices, the Officer's Mess and sports facilities which included an indoor heated swimming pool, and Commissioned Officer accommodation which was a mix of houses and apartments. The large detached house was the C.O.’s residence. N.C.O’s, along with enlisted men, had their accommodation toward the rear of the estate in smaller apartments and barracks. They had separate facilities for sports, recreation and dining away from those of the Commissioned Officers.

Still wearing his dress uniform after his earlier meeting with The C.O., he gripped his walking stick tightly and carefully walked down the steps to the waiting staff car, his luggage already loaded in the boot. The assigned driver, a Corporal, opened the door to the rear passenger seat and saluted the senior officer.

As he attempted to return the salute, he stumbled, almost losing his balance. The Corporal quickly went to his aid, apologising for causing the mishap. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to cause you any problems or inconvenience. Under the circumstances, I would have considered it understandable and acceptable if you hadn’t returned my salute.”

“Corporal, thank you for your concern, it is my legs that were smashed up, not my brains or my sense of decency and respect. The legs will continue to heal and be okay in time. Remember Corporal, not only are you required to show respect for your senior officers, it is an officer's duty to return that respect which you also deserve.” His words were true to his feelings but may have come across as a bit harsh as he gritted his teeth due to the pain he experienced.

The Corporal replied. “Thank you, sir.” He then helped his passenger into the car and closed the door. Taking his place in the driver’s seat, he spoke again. “Sir, I have been given my orders and the details of your destination. Do you have any further orders for me before we leave?”

“Yes Corporal, I do, first stop calling me sir.”

“But Major, it would….”

“Shut up and listen.” Trying to sound as relaxed as possible, he continued. “As of this morning, I am no longer a serving officer, I’m retired. Yes, I retain the title of my rank, but that is not who I am, so stop calling me sir and do not call me Major, is that understood?”

“Ermm yes si… err Maj… erm so what do I call you?” The Corporal knew who his passenger was. he volunteered and insisted that he be allowed to take this duty.

“My men knew me as The Ox. It stuck, and they called me Ox. I liked it, I would appreciate it if you would follow suit.”

“Very well, Ox it is, and I’m honoured that you ask that of me.”

“Now Corporal, let’s get me home, but take the scenic route, please. There’s no rush.”

After leaving the barracks, and being saluted as they exited, they drove for the next ninety minutes in a leisurely fashion through country lanes, leaving out the motorways and busy roads. The conversation had been easy and relaxed. They talked about the weather, sport and anything that did not involve army service.

As they entered a small country Village The Ox asked. “Corporal can you find somewhere for us to stop, please, I need to relieve myself and I’d like to get a snack and drink.”

“There doesn’t appear to be anywhere except for the pub, will that be alright with you Ox?” The Corporal was nervous, something had been on his mind all day. It was something that he needed to say but didn’t know if he would have the opportunity.

“Yes Corporal, that will be fine, but, as we are both in uniform, we will have to stick to soft drinks if they don’t serve tea or coffee.”

The Corporal parked the car and then helped Ox to alight from the back seat, together, they entered the pub. After using the facilities, they enquired about food. The pub landlord was an amiable gent who directed them to a table at the side of a roaring open fire in the bar. A pot of tea for two and menus were brought to them by a young man who, judging by his looks, was the landlord’s son.

Ox requested a glass of water, he needed to take his pain medication and asked if they could have a few minutes to decide what to eat. When they placed their order, both decided on homemade rag pudding, chips and vegetables with beef gravy. They agreed to put off ordering dessert until after eating their main course and later passed on, feeling satisfied by the excellent home cooking.

Ox had just finished the last of the tea when the Corporal stood. “Sir, permission to speak freely sir?”

“Corporal, I thought we had agreed you were to address me as Ox, and I thought we had been speaking freely.” Ox was puzzled by the sudden return to formality. He also detected the glistening of tears in the corner of the Corporal’s eyes. “Okay Corporal, I believe that you feel it necessary to return to the formalities, and you feel that you have something important to say. Permission granted. But I think you need to sit back down before you speak.”

Nervously, the Corporal re-took his seat, looking across the table, he spoke. “Major Oxley, sir, I knew who you were before I accepted this duty. I purposely requested it as I wish to say something to you.” Tears were now flowing freely down his cheeks.

“Go ahead Corporal, this obviously means a lot to you.” Ox was now beyond puzzled and wanted the Corporal to get off his chest, whatever it was that was upsetting him so much.

“Sir, I know how you obtained your injuries and what you had to do. I can only guess how difficult it was for you in Iraq. The soldier you was sent to rescue was a very close friend of mine. I am aware that he had been severely tortured, and his injuries meant that he was close to death and suffering greatly and that rescue was impossible with him guarded by a garrison of insurgents. Your actions in blowing up their arsenal of weapons have probably saved many lives by killing everyone in that camp. I thank you, sir, for ending his pain and cutting short his suffering. It is time that you stopped blaming yourself for his death. Bunny would not want you to do that. It was not your fault you did what you had to do. The fault lies with those who started the bloody conflict. On behalf of Bunny, I thank and forgive you, now it is time for you to forgive yourself.”

Ox was shocked and could feel the moisture forming in his eyes. He remembered the mission. He was trying to rescue Lieutenant James ‘Bunny’ Hazel. “Corporal, how do you know those details? They are classified.”

“Sir, although I am an N.C.O. I am in Military Intelligence and assigned as a driver to The Colonel. I hear things although I have never repeated anything I have heard until now.”

“Thank you, Corporal. Now, remind me, what is your name?”

“Sir, I am Corporal Andrew David Lucy.”

Ox’s mind went into overdrive, and he reached for a letter in his inside pocket as realisation dawned on him. “What did Bunny call you, and what was your relationship with him?”

The Corporal hung his head. “He called me Lucy. He said I was his ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ because, he thought, I was beyond his reach. We… we… we were boyfriends.” He now looked up and stared defiantly at Ox. “I know that you will now feel compelled to report me. I will save you the trouble, sir. I will report myself when I return to base.”

“Corporal, do not assume that you know what I will do, and you will not report anything when you return to base. That. Is. An. Order. Is that clear?” Ox handed over the envelope that he had been entrusted with by his Lieutenant when they arrived in Iraq. It was addressed ‘To my love, my Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’.

“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, listen to me, please. My men were my family, the only family I had. Now you are family too. I know Bunny loved you, but now it is time for you to move on. It is what Bunny would want. It is time for us both to move on.” Ox was now crying too.

There is more to come, there always is with a story like this and more tissues may be needed.
I hope that everyone enjoys this in-spite of it being a bit of a tear-jerker, I wanted to give some back ground to The Major so that we can appreciate him more and understand his motives.
All comments are welcome they will be read and acknowledged so please let me know what you think.
This has been written without the aid of editor or beta-reader as that is my choice so any errors are all mine, let me know if you spot any and I'll try to correct them.
Copyright © 2019 Mancunian; All Rights Reserved.
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This story has been revised and edited to improve the reader experience, it has not been altered in any other way.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Marty

Marty 41,753

Posted (edited)

Yea, you're right. A bit of a tear jerker indeed. Eagerly awaiting the next chapter! :thumbup:

As an aside, I was completely flummoxed when you mentioned rag pudding. Having Googled it, I am now amazed I never came across it when I was growing up in the Manchester area, especially as my mother actually worked in the cotton mills when I was a child. Perhaps the reason was because, even though we only lived six miles from the centre of Manchester, we were actually in Cheshire, not Lancashire. But a favourite recipe of my mother's was steak and kidney pudding, which I suspect may have been the local variant of the rag pudding... :unsure2:

Edited by Marty
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Mancunian

Unfortunately a lot of the back-stories will have those tear-jerking moments, but then for some it is the story of how they ended up on the street and homeless.

And yes rag pudding and steak and kidney pudding are just variants of the same dish, the main difference being that rag pudding was cooked in the oven wrapped in muslin cloth where the steak and kidney pudding was steamed in a pudding basin. I enjoy both but my favourite is steak and kidney pudding cooked to my dad's recipe (it's cooked in a Guinness gravy) I still have the recipe and cook it reasonably often, it's delicious. 

Edited by Mancunian
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Former Member

I always think it’s funny how many British foods never made it across the Atlantic to become common foods in the US. I’ve certainly heard of steak and kidney pie, but have no interest in tasting it – when I was growing up, my mother thought it was important for us to eat liver regularly, but in the Seventies, reports started coming out about the inadvisability of eating one of the filter organs and she stopped making it. Considering the percentage of people who claim English ancestry, we eat a relatively small percentage of foods that are specific to the Brits. Apparently, even English immigrants to the US abandoned native British foods (including mushy peas and warm beer) in favor of the foods their neighbors were eating.

And living on the Pacific Coast, my diet is probably much more influenced by Asian, Pacific, and Hispanic cuisines than, say, New England, the Mid-Atlantic region, or the Midwest. Southerners might not want to acknowledge it, but many of their foods are influenced by Caribbean and African sources. New Orleans was colonized by the French. Spain colonized Florida and Texas and there are remnants of that influence remaining.
 

I remember reading that the creators of boxed cake mixes could have included powdered eggs in the box, but the act of adding fresh eggs made the cook feel like they were actually baking a cake rather than merely reconstituting a factory-prepared concoction.
;–)

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Mancunian
11 hours ago, droughtquake said:

I always think it’s funny how many British foods never made it across the Atlantic to become common foods in the US. I’ve certainly heard of steak and kidney pie, but have no interest in tasting it – when I was growing up, my mother thought it was important for us to eat liver regularly, but in the Seventies, reports started coming out about the inadvisability of eating one of the filter organs and she stopped making it. Considering the percentage of people who claim English ancestry, we eat a relatively small percentage of foods that are specific to the Brits. Apparently, even English immigrants to the US abandoned native British foods (including mushy peas and warm beer) in favor of the foods their neighbors were eating.

And living on the Pacific Coast, my diet is probably much more influenced by Asian, Pacific, and Hispanic cuisines than, say, New England, the Mid-Atlantic region, or the Midwest. Southerners might not want to acknowledge it, but many of their foods are influenced by Caribbean and African sources. New Orleans was colonized by the French. Spain colonized Florida and Texas and there are remnants of that influence remaining.
 

I remember reading that the creators of boxed cake mixes could have included powdered eggs in the box, but the act of adding fresh eggs made the cook feel like they were actually baking a cake rather than merely reconstituting a factory-prepared concoction.
;–)

When I was in Vancouver recently I noticed that there was very little by way of British cuisine there, strange when you think that it got it's name from the amount of British who colonised and settled there. So it's not just in the states that your comment applies. There are many variants on Steak & Kidney pie, those that don't like kidney substitute it with mushrooms or just add more steak and some do like my dad used to do and make the gravy by adding Guinness or Ale to improve the flavour, either is good. There are many recipes to be found on the internet.

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Mancunian
11 hours ago, droughtquake said:

So it seems that the Major/the Ox was Gay-friendly long before he became homeless and met the boys.
;–)

It looks like he was and there is still more to discover yet, so who knows what will come out. @droughtquake we have to remember that The Major was in conflict situations where you get to rely on those around you and become like a close knit family, maybe that is where he learnt to accept without judgement.

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Former Member
3 hours ago, Mancunian said:

When I was in Vancouver recently I noticed that there was very little by way of British cuisine there, strange when you think that it got it's name from the amount of British who colonised and settled there.

The Canadian flag does not include a Union Jack in the upper left quadrant like fellow Commonwealth members, Australia and New Zealand. In honor of James Cook’s ‘discovery’ of the former Royal Kingdom by a European, the Hawaiian flag incorporates a Union Jack – the white, red, and blue stripes represent the eight major islands. Captain Cook, Hawaii was named after a coffee company by that name that was located there within the Kona Coffee growing area. The community is near where Cook was killed for attempting to kidnap the King of Hawaii.

There is even less British influence in Hawaii than in British Columbia. The British, French, and US governments all officially recognized the Royal Kingdom of Hawaii, but that didn’t prevent each of the three from meddling. And neither France, nor Britain intervened when US and European immigrants revolted against the legitimate government with the illegal assistance of the US military.
;–)

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Mancunian

Thank you @KayDeeMac for taking the time to comment. Like many who become homeless the events that bring about their situation are never good, with support many can and do manage to get back into a good place in their lives but not all are able to do that. This is The Major's story, the events that brought him down, the times that kept him going and brought him to a new 'family' that hopefully helps him find his place in life again.

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Summerabbacat

I loved the musical reference in this first book @Mancunian. I am not a fan of The Beatles at all, but I do like some of their songs when sung by others, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds as sung by Elton being one of them. Bunny's name for Andrew as his "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" was very moving, and the fact that Bunny not only entrusted Ox with a letter to his love (perhaps a "farewell" love letter knowing death was nigh), but that Ox delivered the letter without hesitation or judgment to its intended recipient, is indicative of Ox's gay-friendly attitude and his integrity. What a wonderful "introduction" to Ox for Andrew. I hope this is the start of a friendship for both, although I fear it will be one which is short-lived given some of the revelations in The Boot - Three Years On. 

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Mancunian

Being an avid Beatles fan I have to declare The Beatles version as the best, but I will agree that Elton does a very good cover version.

Having pet names for a loved one and being romantic isn't exclusive to straight relationships, it exists in gay relationships too and I like to show it. I'm happy that you see and like the normality of their relationship. Ox headed a tight-knit unit and 'adopted' his men as family, warts and all. He accepted his men for who they were, not how others wanted them to be and built trusting relationships with them. That is a part of life in the armed services, especially when in the theatre of war and conflict. Ox is straight, confident in his sexuality and comfortable in his skin, this has resulted in him being totally gay accepting.

I'm happy that you like this first chapter, thank you for your comments. :hug:

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