I remember reading a story by Duras about a young English pilot who was shot down during WWII in a small town in France. The war was days from being over and this bold young 20 year old pilot was launching his attacks on the German troops wherever he could find them. One night his plane was shot down and landed atop a tree in a French village. He was nearly dead and the people of the village had no means to rescue him. So they gathered around the tree with torches and what musical instruments they had. All night long they sang to him and prayed for him and kept him company until his spirt left this world. The next day they managed to free his body from the wreckage. He was only a boy of 20, they didn’t even know his name. But they carried his body to one of their homes, cleaned it and washed it and wrapped it. They buried him by the church and every day they put flowers on his grave. For years and years. When Duras visited the village in the 1970s they were still putting flowers on the grave of this young, unknown, brave British pilot and they spoke of him with tender affection and admiration as if he belonged to them.The posting is entitled "Sober Thoughtfulness" and it's by the writer, Kathleen Valentine.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
For some reason I decided to do a web search on the word, "thoughtfulness" a few minutes ago. In doing so, I found a website - a blog really - that related the following story: