Chapter 17
Deep within the stench of despair blooms the perfume of hope. –DB
28 August, 1940 - London, England
As soon as Jon’s train eased into the station, he saw his father. The trim figure of Nathan Newell-Grey towered above the crowd. Jon hoisted his bag, wincing from a recent shoulder injury. Like so many other brave men, he had joined England’s effort full of hope and patriotic pride, only to discover the gruesome realities of war. He’d been granted forty-eight hours leave, a mere salve for the wounds to his soul. He stepped from the train.
“Hello, Father, Mother.” Jon greeted them with warm embraces.
Nathan frowned. “How’s the shoulder, son?”
“Not too bad, it’ll mend.”
“We’re so glad you’re home,” his mother said. “Everyone is looking forward to seeing you. A few people migh
