250 Words (x2): Memories of Sergeant Lucas

It’s difficult to forget him- a very queer man indeed.  We’re out in the jungle facing death daily and all he could think of was, well… I suppose I was jealous of the man- he had such perfect ways of escaping the war.

The rest of us spoke constantly of home, missing food, of the next rest period; rotated round and around the same subjects.  Lucas was always off creating his own private world to live in.  Where Tolkein had Middle Earth, our Sergeant had religion and his hobby.

His Bible was with Lucas throughout his service and he read a section of it every day.  Most us felt we were getting too close to our maker as it was without embracing religion when at rest, whether or not it had been with us before.  To try and get closer seemed insane.  Still, such belief must have been comforting in the face of the stories we heard about the enemy.  As must have been a true belief when the bullets were flying rather than the knee jerk religion I acquired.

Mostly, though, we did find it weird for someone to read The Bible in such surroundings.  I can remember avoiding the Padre at all costs on a Sunday.  Of course, just before an action I was always made a hypocrite, running straight to him looking for divine protection or comfort in death.  It was just.. jealousy, as I said, and wanting to escape further from the war in that respect.

And there was his hobby.  Back home Lucas was a collector of insects.  Presumably somewhere in his home were great wooden cases with tray after tray of creatures carefully pinned and labelled.

When he found out where we were posted he must have burned brightly inside.  Wherever we went I’m sure he’d have had a field day but.. well, the jungle must’ve been a richer mine than the desert or Europe.  Certainly he was in his element once out in the tropics.  Everywhere he looked his eyes would light up as he saw specimens that would be new additions to his collection.  (Much like myself and my children with cigarette cards and my grandchildren with their sticker albums).  Forward he would step with purpose and meaning otherwise unseen, a jar in his hand, ready to trap, freeze and send the poor devils home.  Whatever we were doing and however close to danger, that canny NCO always seemed to have an eye out for his next find.  Not that he could always capture- often he would just store the memory for when he could.

Again, most of us already felt too close to these things.  Every night we were woken by some bastard thing on us.  The idea of sticking them in jars as souvenirs was horrific.  And it wasn’t just butterflies and beetles- blooming hornets and other dangerous things to mess with were caught.  A madder man I have never met: Sergeant Lucas was one mighty queer bugger, believe me.