You might be tempted to call the story I am about to tell you an adventure. There is a young man’s escape across a continent at war, a missing Olympic medal, lovers chased by a gang of thieves and, before the end, a grim and desperate fight in which death is but one—and by no means the worst—of the results. But I am reminded, and if you pardon me I will take the time to be reminded whenever I please, I am reminded of the old Indian in that movie about the American west who says to the stupidly romantic historian, “You think the battle of Little Big Horn was…was an adventure?” Though I was present for only some of the story you will hear, if it is an adventure then adventures no longer interest me. I’ll be happy enough, even in this place, without them.
But before I begin, I must tell you that I know who you are, and why you have come here. I know that you will be back again next week on this same day, and that you will want to hear more of this…adventure. I know you will report on what you have heard. This is all right, we will have an agreement. I will speak, and you will listen, and write what you want. You won’t interrupt, and I’ll tell you the truth of what happened and if in the end you decide to turn away for the last time and leave me here with my story, then so be it. If this story is not worth the price of freedom then I will be content for it to remain the troubled dream of my captivity.
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My father, Jerzy Kocerka, was an Olympic boxer, but he learned to fight when war came to him after the German invasion of Poland in 1939. He was 21 years old…
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Losing the Bronze is Copyright ©2009 Nigel Hinshelwood
Ok – there is an agreement: other than this comment, I will not interrupt, which is, as you know terribly difficult for me. I’m just curious, if not requesting, and certainly not interrupting – why this story can not be told in more frequent intervals than 1x/week.