I've Got Your Back

The Letter came today, just two weeks past my 18th Birthday. This letter will change everything. It has already begun to and I only received it some six hours ago. When I first opened the crisp white envelope and read its contents my initial urge was to throw it into the fire, to watch is shrivel and turn black, to pretend it had never arrived in the first place. But I knew I couldn’t do that. Sam from next door had tried the same thing a few months ago but they had still found him, and had to drag him to his fate kicking and screaming. He disgraced his family doing that. And, despite my gnawing fear, I refuse to do the same to mine. In the newspapers they portray a feeling of great pride an excitement at being called up and whilst I’m not denying some people are pleased that they have a chance to defend their country it just isn’t true to pretend none of us are afraid. Because, to tell you the truth, I am petrified. You can tell other lads are too – sometimes you can actually see a cloud of fear lingering over the head of men my age, as they wait for the day to come when they will receive a letter like mine. A letter that commands you to lay down your live for your country.

The war, which they are now calling “The World War” or the “Great War” has been waging on tirelessly for a few months. Christmas passed and despite everyones predictions the soldiers did not return home triumphant. If anything they returned home in wooden boxes.

The joyful feeling of high morale and patriotism that there was at first is beginning to wane. Nonetheless, about an hour after reading The Letter I told myself firmly to start behaving like a soldier, I almost made myself believe it wasn’t a ticket to my death but an honour to be fighting for my country. I believe in the war, I dislike the Prussians as much as the next Brit does and, with that in mind, I’m forcing myself to be positive. Perhaps I will get to see foreign lands - Billie from six doors down told his mother in a letter he had been positioned in Egypt for a few weeks – can you imagine that? It’s a far cry from the life of a farm boy that’s for sure.

Telling mother was the worst bit though. I put it off to just before dinner and then I really had no choice. She acted stoically, like I was expecting, but you could see the pain glaze over her eyes. First father, then James, and now me. It’s no wonder she is upset, I suppose she is afraid she will have no one left by the time we have won the war. I go in three weeks the letter said and I refuse to change anything until the day I go – I will still keep working on Manor farm like usual, trying to bring in as much money for Mother before I go. I do wonder how she will cope when I am gone. Perhaps she will have to get another cleaning job, or take on some cooking or ironing for one of the rich ladies in the village. I might even have a word with Lord Stevenson when I go to work tomorrow, see if his wife needs anything doing.

I wonder what will happen to his son whose birthday is only four days after mine? He will probably have been called up too, the rich do not escape this hardship. He will be a Corporal or Sergeant quite probably considering his background and the fact he has an education. Not just a lowly Private like me. Still, it will be comforting to be going with someone I know, and I’m so used to calling him Sir by now I’m sure it won’t be very hard to adjust to his being in control of me. I trust him anyway. He’s not like all those other rich boys: he mucks in too, ploughs alongside you if the time is scarce, and is the kind of person that will always offer you a mug of water if the sun is beating down. Yes, he’s alright.

There are definitely worse people to be going into war with.