It’s Christmas Eve, 1957, so the story goes.
The pilot of a De Havilland Vampire experiences a complete electrical failure on his way home from Germany to England. He is lost in fog and low on fuel over the North Sea.
“It’s a very lonely place, the sky, even more so the sky on a winter’s night. A single-seater jet fighter is a lonely home, a tiny steel box held aloft on stubby wings, hurled through freezing emptiness by a blazing tube throwing out the strength of six thousand horses every second that it burns.”
These words are from Fredrick Forsyth’s novella, The Shepherd, a story my family reads or listens to this time of year.
Fans of CBC radio will be familiar with Alan Maitland’s narration of The Shepherd which has aired on, or close to, Christmas Eve for most of 40 years. Readers may also know that Forsyth has written twelve thriller novels including The Odessa File, The Day of the Jackal and Dogs of War. In recent years he has also written his memoir.
The first time I heard The Shepherd, my family and I were driving home for Christmas on a frigid December night in 1983. There was virtually no traffic at such a late hour throughout the vastness of northern Wisconsin. With long distances between towns, the only light came from the moon and stars and occasional strings of lights on barns and silos. Forsyth’s storytelling is such that we felt we were alongside the struggling pilot in the cockpit, both traveling precariously through the dark.
Since that night, listening to The Shepherd has become a favourite Christmas tradition. Over the years, if we didn’t catch the actual airing we would pop in a taped cassette.
“Down below the wingtip, against the sheen of the fog bank, up-moon of me, a black shadow crossed the whiteness. For a second I thought it was my own shadow, but with the moon up there, my own shadow would be behind me. It was another aircraft, low against the fog bank, keeping station with me through my turn, a mile down through the sky toward the fog.”
In the story, just as the flyer is resigned, believing all is lost, a De Havilland Mosquito fighter-bomber becomes visible; a shepherd apparently sent up to guide him in.
Forsyth served as an RAF pilot during the early fifties so he may have needed only minimum research to write the story. He was inspired to write The Shepherd for his first wife, Carole, who asked him to write her a ghost story. He wrote The Shepherd on Christmas Eve, 1974. It was published a year later.
If you haven’t heard or read it in a while, I highly recommend getting reacquainted. For anyone not aware of The Shepherd, I’m glad you’re reading about it here. The story ranks among the best Christmas tales. Take the time to enjoy a great story and maybe gain some inspiration for your own writing from Forsyth’s gift to his wife.
This year The Shepherd will be aired Christmas Eve at 6:30 on Radio One but thanks to modern technology it’s easy to listen to it any time. Or I could lend you my cassette.
Go ahead! Snuggle on a cozy chair or couch in a darkened room, except for Christmas lights of course, enjoy a festive drink and let Maitland’s voice and Forsyth’s words transport you.
May you enjoy the solace of winter’s stillness, revel in the hustle and bustle of the season and find your stockings full of books come Christmas Day.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good write.
