FALLING STARS
Chapter Sixteen
As the days passed, the Dawsons adapted to
their new situation. The children were fretful and whiny at first, but, with
the resilience of youth, they soon grew used to having only their mother
around.
Rose and the children visited with Ruth more
often than in the past. Ruth had opened up considerably over the years, thanks
in no small part to the innocent acceptance of Gregory, and later Libby. She
was still somewhat uncomfortable in the middle-class home that Jack and Rose
had made for themselves, but held her tongue, more concerned now with keeping
the peace in the family than with appearances.
Rose waited anxiously for some word from
Jack, and, after a week, a letter arrived assuring them that he had arrived for
basic training safe and sound.
June 28, 1917
Dear Rose,
We arrived here at two o’clock this
afternoon, but there wasn’t a chance to write until evening. So far, so good.
There were no mishaps on the way here, and it is evident that I am not the only
one who is reluctant to be here.
About half of us are volunteers, and the
rest draftees. Some regard this war as a holy mission, others as an adventure,
and still others as a duty. Most of the volunteers seem content enough to be
here, although some seem to be reconsidering, not that they have much of a
choice now. Some of the draftees regard the war in the same way, but there are
others who would just as soon not be here. One young man who has been drafted
is away from home for the first time, and terrified. Apparently his
grandfather, who fought in the Indian wars, has told him a thousand terrifying
stories, mostly about death, scalping, and torture. I have my doubts that much
scalping goes on over in Europe, but I’m certain that there’s plenty of death,
and possibly torture as well.
We have to be up early, so I had best
finish this letter now. I hope that all is well with you, and that I am able to
return home soon.
Love,
Jack
*****
August 23, 1917
Dear Rose,
We have now completed basic training, and
I am on my way to Europe. I would have preferred to be stationed somewhere in
the United States, but, like most draftees, I am slated to go to Europe.
Supposedly, basic training was supposed to
teach us how to be soldiers and get us into shape, but I think that it was more
about getting us into the right mindset. We need to support the war, and the
American position, and hate the enemy. I think I will make a lousy soldier,
because I still haven’t learned those things. Maybe I have spent too much time
seeing the world, and the people in it, but I just can’t find it in myself to
hate a group of people just because those in power say I should.
I must admit that I am actually more
concerned about crossing the ocean than about the war itself, at least right
now. There have been so many ships sunk by U-boats, and I don’t relish the idea
of being on one of them. One sinking was enough to last a lifetime.
The train is almost to New York, where we
will board a ship to Europe. You will probably receive this letter before we
arrive there.
Love,
Jack
*****
Rose spent three weeks worrying about Jack,
and the crossing, before she received another letter from him. They had arrived
safely, and were headed for the trenches.
September 2, 1917
Dear Rose,
We have arrived safely in Europe, in spite
of the U-boats prowling the Atlantic waters. The journey took ten days, much
longer than the Titanic intended to take to cross the same ocean, but this ship
has yet to have a collision with an iceberg, so I suppose they’re doing
something right.
We disembarked in England, and then
crossed the English Channel to France. Much of France has changed from the way
I remember it. There is a lot of tension here, because of the war, and a lot of
the countryside has been torn up. It will be a long time before this place gets
back to normal.
Included here are some drawings of France
as it is now, and as it used to be. Hopefully they will get past the censors.
Love,
Jack
*****
Jack spent over fourteen months in Europe,
fighting in the war. He wrote home as often as he could, mostly talking about
such things as the weather, the food, and light anecdotes about people that he
had met and things that had happened--letters that could get past the censors.
In spite of the stressful conditions, he managed to keep his sense of humor,
and his health, unlike some of the others. He often sent drawings with his letters,
some of which were thinly veiled references to the unpleasant aspects of war.
However, despite the censors’ vigilance, Jack
did manage to send one letter home that told far more clearly just how
unpleasant things often were.
July 27, 1918
Dear Rose,
I am writing this letter on the off chance
that it will get past the censors. I think they fear that if people at home
knew what things are really like here, it would reduce support for the war, as
well it should.
The trenches are unpleasant places, with
few redeeming features, except that they help protect you from bullets, which
is a good thing. They’re filthy, and often muddy, especially when it rains,
which it does quite a bit. It is also often cold, especially in the winter
months. In the summer, it’s hot, and still unpleasant.
There is little privacy here, and it is
crowded. In some respects I suppose this is a good thing, since the troops lend
each other moral support, but it’s still hard to be with so many people day
after day, and when things get tense I sometimes think we hate each other more
than we hate the enemy.
There is an ailment that many soldiers get
called trenchfoot. It seems to be caused by having one’s feet in the mud so
much. If you manage to keep your feet dry you don’t have much problem, but that
can be difficult, especially when it rains a lot. So far, I have managed to
avoid this.
Another problem is shell shock. Some
soldiers, under the strain of battle, seem to fall apart. They may retreat into
themselves, or become very difficult to get along with, and some don’t recover
afterwards. There are others who seem to keep their heads during battle, but
have difficulties later. Sometimes a person will seem to recover, but then
something will remind them of whatever it was that started the problem in the
first place, and things get bad again. A few have had to be evacuated.
I can sympathize with them, because battle
is a strain, although so far I have kept my head. There are bullets flying, and
the ever present danger of getting shot. There are also bombs flying, leaving
craters in the ground when they hit. In hand to hand combat, there is the
danger of being bayoneted. There is also the danger of poison gas, although so
far the gas masks have worked and have therefore kept the number of casualties
down.
In addition to the danger to oneself,
there is also the worry over the fate of one’s comrades. Conditions like these
tend to form a bond between us that is not often seen elsewhere, and the
knowledge that those around you may be killed or injured without warning adds
to the strain.
There is also a certain amount of
difficulty in fighting with the other side. Even though these men are supposed
to be your enemies, they are still people, and it can be hard to forget that. I
can’t help but wonder if one of the people that I am shooting at is someone
that I knew years ago. There isn’t any choice, of course, since chances are if
you don’t kill them they’ll kill you, but it isn’t something that I like to
think about. It’s easiest when you can’t really see who you are fighting with,
because then you don’t know if your bullets actually found their marks, and you
can’t see the faces of your enemy and acknowledge their humanity.
I will be surprised if you receive this
letter; however, it helps just to write these things down. I hope that this war
will be over soon.
Love,
Jack
*****
Several more months passed. The Dawsons kept
in touch through letters, and even the children managed to send messages to
their father, by dictating them to Rose, who wrote them down. Libby wasn’t
entirely certain who she was sending messages to, but since her brother was
"writing" to someone, she had to as well. She didn’t quite remember
who her father was, but her brother assured her that he was the one they were
writing letters to.
Jack responded to the letters, including
messages and drawings for the children. Rose was relieved each time a letter
arrived, and continued to pray that the war would end soon.
Toward the end of October, the letters
stopped coming. Rose spent several weeks living in fear that something had
happened, but there was no word. Finally, a letter arrived in mid-November,
just after the end of the war.
November 11, 1918
Dear Rose,
I’m sure that you’ve heard by now that the
war is over. It was doubtless in every newspaper around the country the day it
ended. I apologize for not writing to you these past couple of weeks, but there
has been little time, and the one letter I did manage to write was returned to
me.
Peace has finally been declared, and they
are calling this day Armistice Day. They will be sending us home soon. I look
forward to seeing you and the children. It’s hard to believe that it’s been
almost a year and a half since I’ve seen you.
Love,
Jack
*****
Rose was ecstatic, hardly able to believe
that Jack was at last coming home. She waited with growing anticipation for the
next several weeks, until at last the telegram came announcing his arrival.
ROSE. WILL BE HOME DECEMBER 5. MEET ME AT THE
TRAIN STATION. BRING GREGORY AND LIBBY. LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU. JACK.