I don't know if you get the news of home from where you are, but I hope your family is alright. We heard the attacks from our home last night and it was so frightening. My father came running in to get us all into the wine cellar and my mother was near hysterics when I got down there. Joseph, being the soldier he is, wanted to go outside and see if he could shoot the planes down from where he was. I thought that we were being hit and not London. Joseph told me that he never received news of home unless we wrote; I don't want to bear bad news to you, but London was bombed by Germany last night. It was the biggest bombing that London has ever had in this war. They haven't come out with casualties, but I believe that's because it happened in the middle of the night. They are probably still cleaning the streets of rubble. I will keep track of the casualty list, but I doubt that your sister will have the name Schofield after hers. So, if you'd like, you may tell me the last name I can look for and keep you updated. It may take weeks, but I'd be willing. Otherwise, I will just keep looking for the name Schofield.
I hope Henry is still safe and healthy. If he is, then wish him a late happy birthday from my family and me. Though, I do not like that all of you gave him half your rations. You all are supposed to be staying fit and healthy. If you're half-starved during the night, that is not taking care of yourself. You told me you would care for yourself. Please, care for yourself. Or I may just sign up to be an army nurse, just to make sure that you're taking care of yourself. Now more than ever, since you received the supplies, you can actually take care of yourself. I'm trusting that you're taking care of yourself.
I thank you for the photo and I apologize that your mother is now bothering you with the questions. You can tell her that your friend's sister was pestering you for a photo. Or maybe that would make it worse.
Joseph wants to go back. He says that he feels absolutely useless just sitting at home. My mother and father are trying to convince him to stay, but I know my brother better than that. I know that there's no way he's staying here if the war is still raging on. I wish he wasn't as brave as he was, but I got stuck with a big brother that is too brave for his own good and a younger brother that looked up to his older brother too much to be left at home during a war. I remember when Tom signed up. It was maybe two months after Joseph left and he left for the day and came back with his papers. He never told my parents until the day before his departure, but I knew. He trusted me enough to tell me the day he went and got his papers. I was so mad I hit him with my book. "You take care of yourself," he said to me before getting on the train to France. "You're in charge now." I was terrified, William, because I knew he was right. My parents wouldn't be okay for a while, losing both their sons to the war. I took care of the house for the first month, but Tom kept his promise. He wrote as much as time allowed him it seemed.
I'm assuming he never told you what he wrote home about, but it was about you, mainly. After you joined the regiment, he always was writing about the quiet soldier that got a ribbon after the rest of his regiment was killed and the lone soldier held the front line until the other troops could get to him. He also wrote to me separately, saying that you and I would get on swimmingly if there wasn't a war in the way. I always wrote back that a war isn't the time to try to bother his sister so much that she goes to France herself. Now I find myself wanting to have gone to France when Tom was there. If only to be properly introduced to you.
Tom told me to send him a letter from me to you; he said that he would pass it on. I almost did. After Tom wrote to me about how you constantly sit and watch as Tom got mail from all three family members while you were lucky if one came for you. He said that it would boost your morale. He always had a way with theatrics so I never believed him, but now, reading your letters, I'm wondering if Tom was completely sincere about everything he wrote about you.
War has done something to men. It has made men cruel and cold to the outside world. War made men be aware of everything around them and nothing of the emotional aspects of their own minds. You, William Schofield, are different. You seem quite aware of where your mind stands and the effects the war has had on your own mind. War may create harsh men, but you seem kinder than the rest. You seem too kind to be sitting in a trench in the countryside of France, waiting for your next move. I pray that you stay kind throughout the entire war. You are far kinder to me than I feel I deserve. I thank you for telling me I've done something in this war. I've felt completely useless. I'm glad that I have helped at least you. If you ever need, you may write to me, even before I respond to your letter. I will write to you as soon as I possibly can, but sometimes the postman cannot get to our house because of the weather or because of the war. So please, don't ever hesitate to write. I'll always be here for you, William, until you don't want me to be here.
So, with you know that, I believe real introductions are in. Hello William Schofield, I am Mary Blake, the older sister of Thomas Blake, whom you served with, and the younger sister of Joseph Blake. I'm 19, though sometimes I feel as if I'm the eldest, and I also live with my parents, but in the small town of Alfristead. I dream of going to London someday, but with the war raging on my hope is fading. I walk around my family's cherry orchard daily, it is a sense of escaping from what is going on around me. My dog, a stray that Tom found somewhere in town. And though, you told me I could call you Will, I think William is more suitable for a soldier such as yourself.
