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Eighth installment

The telephones had been working for a couple of days but I never had the time to use it, so I decided I had to make time and now was as good as nothing much was happening, I had to ring my parents and as I dialed each number I kept thinking would they talk to me, were they worried but that was a stupid thought as I knew that they would be.
"hello" my father's voice answered,
"hello" I answered,
"is that you" my father's voice sounding surprised, 
"yes" I again replied waiting for him to say something first, 
"you're alive, thank God",
there was a tone in his voice of both elation and sorrow, he was trying to talk to me while sort of sobbing at the same time, he then started to raise his voice telling me to come home as if he was sort of begging me and I didn't really understand why?
 He kept repeating over and over again that I was supposed to be dead, 
"what's your mother going to say, she's been crying for weeks, come home it's not your war, come home" 
"I hope to be home for Christmas, where's mam" I asked, 
"she's out, can you ring back" he asked, 
I arranged a time and said goodbye for now, it was better if I gave him time to calm down before I rang again, I couldn't understand why he was so surprised and upset. When I rang again all I can really remember is her crying constantly with joy and happiness, I will always remember that first conversation in between the tears she explained, 
"your alive" yes that's why I'm ringing you, 
"your supposed to be dead" she said, 
"what" I replied, 
"it was in the papers, a French journalist had been shown you're passport next to a dead body in Laslovo and we thought it was you"
"what" I replied,
"we thought it was you, we had a mass for you and we received loads of sympathy cards from everyone" she said,
at that moment I began to understand, the Serbs had found a dead body face down with a bergan next to a body and had used it as propaganda, it wasn't me but Eric, who was more than lightly dead, if I could have got hold of that journalist I would probably have killed him, the press was a very powerful weapon in the west and without seeing my face they had printed the story, 
"well mam I'm sorry but I'm alive and will be home for Christmas and I'll ring you as often as I can, love you all, see you soon" I said,
and she gave the phone to dad , no word's just cries of happiness, I will always remember that conversation as long as I'm alive, then my father came on the phone,
"it's not your war you're place is home" he said,
"I'll see you all for Christmas and ring when I can" and the line went dead. What did my father meant by saying that it was not my war, I knew that it was, I was part of the Croatian fight for freedom, it was definitely my war. Then I thought to myself if the press had reported me dead then they must have reported Eric dead as well, what was his mother thinking and feeling, I couldn't do anything, I just sat thinking, it seemed that everybody was leaving me alone as they could see that I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. What was more important to me now, my family in Wales or my second family in Croatia. 

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