Tea brings people together.

I found this on line and thought it a sweet - very British - story to share.

During the Battle of Britain, my mother lived in Kent and often watched the aerial battles. One day, she and her friends saw a German plane being shot down. They saw the pilot parachute into a nearby field and quickly rode over to see what had happened. On the way, they met the local gamekeeper, who had also seen the plane go down and was carrying his shotgun.

When they reached the field, they found the parachute on the ground. As they approached, the pilot emerged from behind some hay bales, raising his hands. He said, “Hello!” in broken English, offered his pistol, and then threw it away. He complained, “My leg hurts.”

My mother, who was a nurse and spoke some German from her Austrian cousin, examined his leg and found it was badly sprained. The gamekeeper gave the pilot a cigarette, and they decided to take him to the farmhouse while waiting for the police. They helped him across the field, and my grandmother had tea ready for everyone.

About an hour later, the local policeman arrived with two home guard members and the doctor. They exchanged greetings, and the doctor treated the pilot’s ankle. They all had more tea, and the policeman informed the pilot he needed to go to the police station and wait for the army.

“Of course, thank you for the tea,” the pilot said as he left.

In 1950, the pilot visited my family again. He had spent the rest of the war as a POW in Scotland, then returned to Germany and worked as a civil engineer. He was in town on business and became a family friend.

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