The Betrayal

By Lee Kendrick

My Father was an amateur history buff and a collector of World War II memorabilia. He was an Air Warden in the Blitz during the last War and had recently passed at 98. Mum, who will be 101 this November, asked if my two sisters and I, her only son, Peter, could clear out Dad's garage. I was only too happy to help; I was excited to see exactly what war memorabilia he had accumulated over fifty years of collecting. Anyway, I told Mum I'd be around to help on Saturday.

Finally, Saturday came and I started work on clearing my Father's garage. I'd arrived at 10 a.m and knew it was going to be a long day. My sister, Jenny made me some tea and biscuits and left me to get on with things.

The garage was covered in dust, and there was a musty smell in the air, probably due to the old war relics; By 12 o'clock,,, I had sorted out a menagerie of war medals, a gas mask, a couple of air raid warden helmets, overalls, a uniform, a stirrup pump, and a torch. And there it was, hiding in a corner of the garage covered in an old grey blanket … My Father's trusty, old air warden's bicycle.

While my Dad held me steady, he would let me sit on the saddle of the bicycle when I was about six years old. He would never let me have a go on it when I was older for fear of me crashing and damaging it, but he did buy me a spanking new bicycle for my birthday when I was ten.

I pulled off the old grey blanket and sat on the bicycle saddle “I bet this bicycle could tell a few stories!” I thought…

Suddenly memories came flooding back to me at the time when my Father sat me on the bike. A sudden chill spread through my body and my vision became blurred. A mist appeared before me, and I could see shadows, then the mist cleared and there in his air raid uniform was my Dad climbing off his bicycle; he entered some building. Next thing he was on the roof scanning the sky as if looking for German bombers. I could hear the air raid sirens in the distance as dozens of Heinkel and Dornier bombers flew overhead; then I heard the sound of Akk, Akk… As the anti-aircraft guns frantically fired tracers and then live shells at the bombers as the searchlights captured them in their beams… it was the “London Blitz!”

Moments later, I heard the whistling sound of incendiary bombs falling from the bombers lighting fires on the houses’ rooftops everywhere. My perspective changed, as I now saw my Dad on the roof of a building. In front of him, some ten feet away, was an incendiary burning ferociously away at the roof tiles. But my Father seemed oblivious to the danger and ignored it. Instead of trying to put the fire out, he placed a wooden box on the floor and opened it. He then pulled out a radio and transmitter. To my horror… he began giving a message on a Morse code key machine. Fortunately, he had taught me how to do Morse code when I was a teenager, so I understood what he was transmitting. As I listened intently to each dot and dash he tapped in, the message read…

“Well done Luftwaffe…Mission successful…Incendiaries burning many buildings… Everywhere around me is on fire! End of message!” I was in shock… was this all my imagination? Or can it be that somehow this bicycle had retained a kind of residual memory from my Father's war experiences like what… Paranormal investigators say about some ghostly sightings that they may not be ghosts at all…but somehow a memory is held together by stone and bricks in buildings.

It got so unbearable for me watching my Dad betray his country I quickly climbed off the bicycle, to stop the vision!

Was the loving Father I knew…really a German spy? Then I remembered... a few years before the war began, Dad had lived in Germany working as an English teacher, teaching English to German schoolchildren! He returned back to England in 1939, just when the war had started…Had he got to love the Germans and the Nazi ideology so much, that he'd spy for them?

Devastated and angry I just had to get out of Mum's house and get back home. I needed to have time to myself to reflect on what had just happened in the garage! I put on a false smile, gave Mum and Jenny a kiss on the cheek, and told them I had sorted out some of Father's things and would be back next weekend to complete the work.

Back at home, I thought hard about what I should do about Dad Firstly, who would believe what I had experienced? My Mum and sisters would think I had just imagined what I'd seen, or worse… think I had flipped! I decided not to mention anything to the family but would sit on the bicycle again to see if more visions would occur.

****

When Saturday came I was back in my Dad's garage at Mum's sorting out more war memorabilia into boxes when I stumbled upon… a small wooden box... exactly like the one I saw in the vision. Upon opening it up my heart sank… inside was an old radio in good condition a transmitter, headphones, a morse code sender, notepad and pencil, plus a German Luger pistol! Is this just a coincidence? I thought.

I couldn't resist sitting on the bicycle any longer . I had to try to find out just how deep my Father was working for the Nazis. After uncovering the blanket from the bicycle I hesitantly sat on the saddle… Nothing was happening! I impatiently waited and waited, but nothing would happen. Just as I was about to give up and lift off the bicycle, I felt giddy, and my vision became blurred, as before. A mist started swirling before me and slowly dissipated with shadowy images now forming In the background. I could hear the air raid sirens screeching out as the German bombers overhead released their bombs, exploding them all around me. My vision now cleared, and I saw my Father on another roof. About ten feet away from him was a burning incendiary. It was melting through the glass of a skylight…threatening to tumble into some unfortunate family's home and fry them…But he, for some strange reason, this time, worked his stirrup pump and doused out the Incendiary before it caused a fire! Did this mean he had a sudden feeling of guilt and remorse?

Dad then promptly lifted out the radio equipment from his box and, putting on his headphones, he proceeded to send another message to the Germans on the Morse code key. The message read…

“Another successful night bombing…Incendiaries burning many homes…Hundreds of civilians were possibly killed and thousands injured…Soon we will make the British surrender!” End of message.

But soon after, my Father seemed to change the frequency and messaged this…

“Beautiful night with all the searchlights and Akk, Akk guns going off everywhere … Hopefully, they'll hit many German bombers… Silly b******ds still think I'm working for them… but us air raid wardens everywhere in East London have been working overtime…dowsing out most of the incendiaries…before they do any harm!"End of message.

Soon, the mist lifted, and the vision was gone…My eyesight cleared and I was back in the garage…Father wasn't a traitor after all… he was a true hero, helping to save thousands of Londoners' lives!

End