Missing The Boat: War Stories of Thomas Alan Dirkin

30 Someone Had to Do It My father and I were sitting in the living room of his house in Thornbury, when he was in his late seventies. It was around 11 o’clock at night. By this time my dad was preparing to go to bed. His routine usually included a whiskey, to get him off to sleep. He had already begun to nod off as I watched some television. Coming back to consciousness, he said; “Someone had to do it.” What did you say dad? By now I could see a heightened sharpness, as you typically observe when someone awakes from a bad dream, or in my dad’s case that night, a flashback. Now awake, my dad explained that in prison camps there were informers who would sell their mates’ plans and secrets to the Germans, probably for minimal reward. They had to be dealt with; it was a matter of life for some and death for others. At that eleventh hour moment, combined with the partial sleep to post flashback alertness, it was very clear to me what he meant when he said “Someone had to do it”. Assassination for the collective good.