By David

There is a swimmer on our team who is just a great person. She’s bright, interesting, conscientious and hard working; a thoroughly good person. She can swim too. A month ago she posted 52 for 100 yards and looks certain to swim 48/49 in the next twelve months.

She would be a prize asset to any college team. If you’re looking for a freestyle recruit that would do your college proud for the next four years, let Swimwatch know and we’ll put you in touch.

But this is a love story. You see she has just fallen in love. Not your normal high school fling. This is serious: a deeply emotional, hurtfully joyful serious. Let me explain. Last night James (that’s not his real name, of course) rang to ask how Anne (that’s not her name either) was getting on with her homework. They finished their school conversation just before midnight, but chatted on exploring each others interests and thoughts. You know the sort of thing. Do you like sushi, have you been to see Borat, what do you think of George W. Bush, her new coach, his new car, their lives.

Five happy hours later Anne walked into the pool for morning training still on the phone explaining that she had to go, “I’ve got a set of 8x400s to swim.” Crazy, I know, but in the best sort of way.

I can understand her fascination. James, you see, is an interesting kind of guy. About two years ago he sued his local education authority. They were demanding he stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. He argued it was his Constitutional right to chose whether to stand or not and he won. He was awarded $50,000 and a small footnote in the nation’s constitutional law.

It’s tempting to caution Anne. She may be making a terrible mistake; talking all night to an unpatriotic ungrateful. But would that be right? I do not think so. What is important here? Why did you or your father go off to some war? What is war all about?

My father went to war, the Second World War. He was a tank commander in Italy, at a famous little place called Monte Cassino. The 4th New Zealand Armored Brigade stormed the German fortification high up in the monastery on Monte Cassino. He told me the Germans had been shocked to see tanks operating in the hilly countryside, but they quickly got down to business and seventeen New Zealand tanks were destroyed by their artillery. My father also described the heroism of the Maori New Zealander Ngarimu who, when his machine gun ran out of ammunition, stood and threw stones at the advancing German troops.

My father’s tank was one of the seventeen destroyed that day. All his crew was killed. He survived thanks to the chance passing of an American Red Cross ambulance. His left arm and eye were left bloodless beside the road in Monte Cassino.

He would tell you the reason he fought was so Anne’s new boy friend could choose. My Dad would choose to stand for the Pledg eof Allegiance. He would think James should stand as well. But he would willingly lose an arm and an eye defending James right not to stand if he didn’t want to. You see that’s what makes us different from the Nazis and the totalitarian regimes that followed them. It may be a strange concept; it’s called freedom.

So good luck Anne and James; I hope it works out all through the summer and beyond. Oh, but while I remember: Anne please never talk all night on the telephone again. It does your training no good at all. That’s taking freedom too far!