Tottenham's Young Albert
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A man covered in bunker oil, lay prostrate on a raft clinging for life in the restless sea. His recognised strength and will power draining hourly from his embattled body. He had watched as fellow POWs, who had survived the barbarism of the Burma railway, slip away, some in apologetic silence, some swimming to the faces of their loved ones. His own hallucinations returned him to his childhood in Tredegar, where he had saved a young girl from drowning. They took him to a football stadium in White Hart Lane and the sound of the fans roaring, 'Come on you Lilywhites.' He imagined a teammate calli...
A man covered in bunker oil, lay prostrate on a raft clinging for life in the restless sea. His recognised strength and will power draining hourly from his embattled body. He had watched as fellow POWs, who had survived the barbarism of the Burma railway, slip away, some in apologetic silence, some swimming to the faces of their loved ones. His own hallucinations returned him to his childhood in Tredegar, where he had saved a young girl from drowning. They took him to a football stadium in White Hart Lane and the sound of the fans roaring, 'Come on you Lilywhites.' He imagined a teammate calling for a pass but it was a fellow sufferer pleading, 'Over here mate, over here.' He felt a strong hand grasp his arm, 'Hang on Buddy, you are safe now.' Young Albert the free scoring Tottenham forward looked into the bright eyes of a young American sailor. All pain left him and he wept with no tears.
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