I was there. Anzio. June 4, 1944. We called it  Operation Shingle. Our objective was to liberate Rome.

For the moment, my squad and I had liberated some bottles of fine Italian wine and were trading stories of our girls back home.

We were joking around, never suspecting, before it was over, 24,000 would never make it back.

At least we had these spare moments for merriment.

“Blackhawk” Byrnes told his usual story of his gal Rose Ann, and the times he flew his private plane over her home, dropping love notes to her in a tube.

Gunner had his Marilyn, and she wouldn’t have liked hearing some of their secret times he blasted out for all of us to hear. In fact, if the Germans hadn’t targeted our troops in the distance with their cannon fire, they probably would have heard them too.

Anyhow, the time came to me. Only I didn’t have much bragging to do.

There was only one girl, Cyndi, and she probably didn’t know I even existed. My only times with her were when I followed her in the distance, planned what I would say to her, watched from afar as she entered her home, and walked away again.

But that’s not what I told them. Why, I’d be the laughing stock of the unit!

When it came time to talk of her kisses, and what came afterward, I’m afraid I wasn’t much of a convincer.

Despite my embellishments, those were about the only good memories I had of that battle.

Now, here I am, the war ended, and I’m back on her street once more.

She still doesn’t know I’m alive, and if she did, well…I don’t want to think about that.

Now all the time in the world is mine.

I have her routine down pat. 5:30, she hops up those stairs. Oh, how I burn to be with her. I sit, wait, just dreaming of Cyndi, knowing she is so unattainable.

I just find my way down that street, knowing she is doing her hair up and dressing in her finest clothes so her oh-so-handsome companion can pick her up at seven.

If only I could but hold that fragile, lovely hand just once.

But our eyes never even meet. I’m not the kind she could ever go for.

I watch the two, from the shadows, as their car zooms down the road, unaware of my presence, and they comfort one another in love’s hold.

If only I could get through to her. Tell her of my love which got me through the war. Tell her I would do anything for her.

Why didn’t I reach out to her before?

If I only didn’t have this chair.

If only I did not leave my legs at Anzio.