A Red Cross agent in France during German occupation faces intimidation, fear, love, hate and pleas for help. He is trying to be Father Christmas, Jesus Christ and everybody's parent, yet has little to give but hope.

Beresford Branson, a Red Cross agent in France during German occupation, faces intimidation, fear, love, hate and pleas for help. He is trying to be Father Christmas, Jesus Christ and everybody's parent, yet has little to give but hope.

My Red Cross is a journey of a young man denied active war duty for his country because of a malaria virus contracted during his Guadalcanal days as a Coast Watcher (Pacific Paradox, Wings-Press, 2012), through love, hate, intimidation and fear, guilt, regrets and heartache. An Agent for Red Cross, he has the responsibility of delivering satisfactions to people in desperate need of succour.

Trials like the scheming of a Gestapo exacting dreadful torture on helpless souls, the ever present doubts of allegiance, intrigue and faithlessness, plague his every effort. He battles with not only outside pressures but with personal guilt when obligations fall counter to his very instincts.

Where does one draw lines between personal loves and goals when political factions confuse one's very proclivities?

Especially when one is caught in the tangle of being expected to aid all?