it's a long way to tipperary
Dec. 24th, 2009 03:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elydesiaThe following piece is my homework from about a month or so ago. Maybe two. The assignment was to write a letter to a friend or loved one as if you were at a training camp in Canada, training for the Great War (WWI). I write as a 24 year old man named Leonardo S. March. He has a girl of interest, Amelia, and two siblings, Julia and Johnny. At this camp, he meets and befriends a frail young lad named Gilbert. I’ve tried to hint at Gilbert being female, and also that Gil and Leo are practically inseparable, but I’m not sure how well I accomplished that.
Dear Mum;
It’s raining right now, and there’s a not-so-swell-patched hole in my tent, so I apologize beforehand for the ink smudges and water stains. Also, it’s cold, so I also apologize for my bad cursive.
This will be the last letter I’ll be sending you for a while. The troops and I will be heading off to battle within the next two weeks, but from the rush around here, I expect it to be next week.
Mum, you wouldn’t believe the sort of things that’ve happened since I last mailed you! The higher officers—which aren’t as mean as a lot of people say they are, although still are quite a strict bunch—are really trying their best, despite the few of them. One day, I hope to be among their ranks, and order the lads around.
I’ve made a lot of new friends here, too, Mum, and you wouldn’t believe how amazing it is to meet people from all across the country! There’s this one chum of mine, his name is Gilbert. He’s really frail, and a bit too feminine, but that’s alright. Everyone’s pretty accepting, and I think as long as we’re all fighting on the same battlefield, as long as we have the same enemy, I can call that person my chum. Don’t worry, Mum, I promise I’ll buy you something good for Christmas on the way back, alright? I’ll even bring Gilbert with me, since he often says he doesn’t have a good home.
Tell Julia I miss her—the little brat she is. Tell her not to worry, either, because I like it here. It’s been about a month, and I really miss all of you. Don’t forget to tell Pa to hit Johnny over the head for me! He deserves one for not sending a single letter to me.
The other day, they had a good talking to with the men about what they expect from us out there on the battlefield. It didn’t sound pretty, and I didn’t fancy them telling this to us now, when we’re so close to heading off. Gilbert was really pale during that lecture, and I felt worried for that little guy. With his body, I don’t expect him to last very long by himself. That’s why I’ve promised to take care of him. It’s not exactly liked here, though—the taking care of others part, I mean. They say it’s every lad for himself, in hopes of advancing. They say it’s all for the war to end sooner, but I don’t think this is going to take very long, as is.
I have some trouble with keeping up when we do this march called Double March. A lot of the other lads—even Gilbert—can do it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. If it’s not too expensive to mail me within the week, could you send a reply to that? A lot of the higher ranking officers are displeased with my marching. Not sure what Mum can do, but a few words of encouragement would be neat.
No, Mum, I don’t regret joining the military. I don’t think it will last very long, and I’ll be very careful to come back safely—Gilbert, too! Don’t forget to make those mashed potatoes I love. I told Gilbert about them, and he wanted to try them, so I promised him he’d get to try some if he’d come have Christmas dinner with us. I expect Brussels sprouts, too.
I’ll let you in on a secret, not even Gilbert knows it. There’s a group of men that get together every second night and gamble. I know that may not be that big of a deal to you—or maybe it is, since Pa used to do it a lot, too—but whatever it means to you, please promise me you won’t tell anyone. I accidentally stumbled into one of their ’sessions,’ and they made me promise to not tell anyone or else they’ll shoot the back of my head in battle. Even you should know how betraying friendly fire is. That group of gambling gits have already gotten in trouble for letting loose some of the horses one night while they were drunk. I don’t want to hang around them, but ever since that night I found out about them they’ve been forcing me to go to their meetings. I don’t think anything good can come of this.
A few days after my last letter, we went out on a camping trip. It sounded fun, believe me, but when we treaded those so many kilometers and then had to do all that digging practice… I don’t know, I guess I sort of broke down. Gilbert had an expected fever at the time, so we went on without him while he was with the nurses. For that whole time I was completely out of it, even that Longfellow that I’ve told you about looked pretty concerned. I was kind of teased for it, and no matter how many times I told them to get stuffed they wouldn’t shut their traps. I think it was because of how jealous I was for Gilbert’s stay with those pretty-looking nurses, and I suppose it took its toll.
With much love,
Leonardo S. March
P.S. – If it’s not too much trouble, could you send me some of those candies from Amelia’s store? I do admit to missing her the most, but I think we both understand why. Have a nice day, Mum!
Dear Mum;
It’s raining right now, and there’s a not-so-swell-patched hole in my tent, so I apologize beforehand for the ink smudges and water stains. Also, it’s cold, so I also apologize for my bad cursive.
This will be the last letter I’ll be sending you for a while. The troops and I will be heading off to battle within the next two weeks, but from the rush around here, I expect it to be next week.
Mum, you wouldn’t believe the sort of things that’ve happened since I last mailed you! The higher officers—which aren’t as mean as a lot of people say they are, although still are quite a strict bunch—are really trying their best, despite the few of them. One day, I hope to be among their ranks, and order the lads around.
I’ve made a lot of new friends here, too, Mum, and you wouldn’t believe how amazing it is to meet people from all across the country! There’s this one chum of mine, his name is Gilbert. He’s really frail, and a bit too feminine, but that’s alright. Everyone’s pretty accepting, and I think as long as we’re all fighting on the same battlefield, as long as we have the same enemy, I can call that person my chum. Don’t worry, Mum, I promise I’ll buy you something good for Christmas on the way back, alright? I’ll even bring Gilbert with me, since he often says he doesn’t have a good home.
Tell Julia I miss her—the little brat she is. Tell her not to worry, either, because I like it here. It’s been about a month, and I really miss all of you. Don’t forget to tell Pa to hit Johnny over the head for me! He deserves one for not sending a single letter to me.
The other day, they had a good talking to with the men about what they expect from us out there on the battlefield. It didn’t sound pretty, and I didn’t fancy them telling this to us now, when we’re so close to heading off. Gilbert was really pale during that lecture, and I felt worried for that little guy. With his body, I don’t expect him to last very long by himself. That’s why I’ve promised to take care of him. It’s not exactly liked here, though—the taking care of others part, I mean. They say it’s every lad for himself, in hopes of advancing. They say it’s all for the war to end sooner, but I don’t think this is going to take very long, as is.
I have some trouble with keeping up when we do this march called Double March. A lot of the other lads—even Gilbert—can do it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. If it’s not too expensive to mail me within the week, could you send a reply to that? A lot of the higher ranking officers are displeased with my marching. Not sure what Mum can do, but a few words of encouragement would be neat.
No, Mum, I don’t regret joining the military. I don’t think it will last very long, and I’ll be very careful to come back safely—Gilbert, too! Don’t forget to make those mashed potatoes I love. I told Gilbert about them, and he wanted to try them, so I promised him he’d get to try some if he’d come have Christmas dinner with us. I expect Brussels sprouts, too.
I’ll let you in on a secret, not even Gilbert knows it. There’s a group of men that get together every second night and gamble. I know that may not be that big of a deal to you—or maybe it is, since Pa used to do it a lot, too—but whatever it means to you, please promise me you won’t tell anyone. I accidentally stumbled into one of their ’sessions,’ and they made me promise to not tell anyone or else they’ll shoot the back of my head in battle. Even you should know how betraying friendly fire is. That group of gambling gits have already gotten in trouble for letting loose some of the horses one night while they were drunk. I don’t want to hang around them, but ever since that night I found out about them they’ve been forcing me to go to their meetings. I don’t think anything good can come of this.
A few days after my last letter, we went out on a camping trip. It sounded fun, believe me, but when we treaded those so many kilometers and then had to do all that digging practice… I don’t know, I guess I sort of broke down. Gilbert had an expected fever at the time, so we went on without him while he was with the nurses. For that whole time I was completely out of it, even that Longfellow that I’ve told you about looked pretty concerned. I was kind of teased for it, and no matter how many times I told them to get stuffed they wouldn’t shut their traps. I think it was because of how jealous I was for Gilbert’s stay with those pretty-looking nurses, and I suppose it took its toll.
With much love,
Leonardo S. March
P.S. – If it’s not too much trouble, could you send me some of those candies from Amelia’s store? I do admit to missing her the most, but I think we both understand why. Have a nice day, Mum!
