Your War, My War

| Chapter VI |

The days grew colder, and the talk about the war became an everyday discussion. It was in the newspaper and broadcasts. I was aware of it all now, but I didn't let it worry me, neither did it worry father. We carried on with our lives. I had a strong understanding of it all. From time-to-time I did feel scared. Nothing is wrong with that; what matters how you deal with said emotion. 

Nineteen forty-one, December...seventh? Currently the morning.

It was a significantly colder and slower morning. Father was preparing breakfast like he always did when the morning paper was delivered. 

"Bonnie, can you get the paper for me?" 

I hummed in response, heading toward the door. The young boy who delivers the paper waved to me, and I returned the gesture. With his bicycle, he headed back to the city. I unraveled the paper as I closed the room behind me. I skimmed through, reading without any understanding. 

I set the paper on the table. When father had finished breakfast and shared it, he glanced through the paper with uninterest. He sighed, setting it back on the table, before meeting my eyes. 

"How was your night? Dream about anything?" Father says, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I slept well. I didn't dream about anything, and if I did, I don't remember."

He hummed in response. 

The morning went as it usually does. We ate, then get ready to leave, then trekked to the shop. We bundled ourselves in coats and scarves and hurried toward the city. I took the front, as per usual. In the back, father started on some work. I waited a few minutes, but quickly became uninteresting at the counter. We had come a bit earlier than normal, so that would explain the inactivity. I went in the back and found father working on a woodwork. 

I walked into his workroom. He glanced up at me. He raised an eyebrow. I gave him a shrug. He went back to his work. The workplace was quiet. Something was off. I went back to the front and tediously adjusted the off placement of certain items. I got quite absorbed in the whole thing, voluntarily taking down merchandise and shifting them to new places.  

Suddenly the door was swung opened great force. I jolted. A petrified Edward came in. First, he looked for me at the counter, but soon he saw me near the shelves. He grabbed my arms tightly.

"Have you heard?!" His voice was raspy and urgent. "Have you?!" 

"Heard of what?" I said, trying to stay leveled and calm. 

"On the radio! Gosh, Bon! The radio!"

"You're not making any sense." I said, frustratingly. 

"The Japanese... They attacked Pearl Harbor!" He shook me as he spoke. 

"What?" I grabbed his forearms. "Wh-When?"

"Just earlier! I ran up here as soon as I could. It was broadcasted -- live! What if they attack here?!"

Father walked in, our faces plastered in fear. 

"What's going on?" Father asked. 

"The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor!" Edward said, letting go of me and wiping his hands down his face. 

"Really?" He asked. 

"Yes! I'm sure it'll be in the papers soon." 

A few days after that, recruiting centers opened everywhere. Large droves and men came to fight. Fight for the cause. The attack on Pearl Harbor enraged the hearts of many Americans. They were out for vengeance. Since the interaction with the sleek man with the hat, I had always thought that maybe I could join. I know I am a woman, but it's not any less of your fight than it is mine. Every night from that day forward, I prayed for the leaders and the soldiers. I didn't care if they were Russian, or German, I prayed for them anyway. The day continued like normal and so did the following days. Days turned to weeks. And weeks were soon going by very quickly.