 |
| The Boys Went Marching... |
All the other new brides gathered at the church
hall to roll bandages and pack toiletries.
Murmurs echoed across, up, and down from the vaulted ceiling.
“Why, my Joe said that Paris is grand, and some day
he will take me there! He writes to me
every day, you know.” Melissa wrapped
bandages, her eyes lost in dreams. Long
white strips draped over her rounded belly.
 |
| Beginning of War from Above |
In the circle of young brides. Hannah was alone
with a flat belly. Letters from Gerald came every day, but were grim and
spotted with mud. His words she would
not share with the round-belly brides.
They needed their dreams, while Hannah needed truth.
Christmas came and left, church bells rung and
carols sung. Then another Christmas slipped by unnoticed.
Brides, now weathered lonely wives, still met
at the hall. While toddlers chased
around, mothers wrapped and wrapped rolls of white cotton. The young faces once wreathed with smiles now
reflected strain of another year gone by.
Letters grew fewer and all waited for the one letter they did not want
to receive.
Then. It
ended.
 |
| (AWM H11576) Australia; women watching for their boys to come down the gangplank |
The “boys” came home; some had left legs and arms
behind; some remained, buried in graves in France, near the ocean. Boys now men-- some shivered at every loud sound,
while others were stoic, with distant haunted eyes.
Gerald held Hannah gently. “It was awful, never seen anything like it.” Hannah settled her face into the fragrance of
Gerald’s wool uniform.
She whispered into the wool. “I knew you would come home, just knew
it. And, I will never let go of you.”
Ever.
World War 1 is the often-forgotten war. Its veterans are now gone. Honor them.
