The Kiss Before Morning
The ‘Kiss Before Morning’ was a boat. An old, worn out and obsolete fishing boat of a type known locally as a Smack. Now superseded by steam and diesel powered craft she was lying in a river waiting to die when an assorted band of kids escaping the fears and traumas of wartime took her to their hearts and, as their various tragedies unfolded, gave her new life and set their course with her that would ultimately take them with the winds of war to Dunkirk.
This is not fiction. This is not fact. This is story half remembered, half forgotten twisted together in the mind of one who heard it from one who saw it and in that respect, with gratitude and affection, I pay tribute to Enid Foster who told me so many smaller stories that together made this larger story possible. Some of the characters were known to her, some I created to populate my tale, others I stole from my own memory.
I now commit my tale to you with the sincerest hope that you take pleasure from it and spare a thought for the now forgotten ‘Tunnel Rats’ and other junior participants in a conflict far too great for their young imaginations to encompass.