To Make A Name

Chapter 1 - A new perspective

The air was hot, making her body perspire in earnest, taking away the last of her feminine feel. Her hair had been bobbed to her chin, however not as prettily as the city slick flappers that roamed her town. No, hers had been hacked off herself and combed back with water so that it closely resembled the look of the unkept boys who ran around on the streets carrying heavy wooden shoe shining cases. The uniform that she wore swallowed her well kept figure, disguising her. It was an olive green color that matched the equally green tents that were bunched that were places behind her. The one piece uniform was bunched at the waist with a tight belt which made the pants parachute at her waist. Atop her head was a triangular shaped hat, identifying her as an equal among the many men drafted into the army. The hands clasped behind her were sweaty from nerves rather than heat as she stood at attention.

Her keen eyes took in everything, bouncing off the faces of those that passed her. The line of soldiers marching in front of her seemed endless. They passed in groups of nine. Left foot, right. Left foot, right. The pound of their steps sounded in unison, making the ground rumble with the steady drum of hard soles boots. She scanned each face... Searching. Halfway down the line she saw him. So young. Only sixteen years of age. His slender shoulders and padded cheekbones made him look even younger. Her heart melted when she saw him.

His eyebrows were bunched together in a solemn expression. His lips clamped in a straight line as he marched along. His hands clasped desperately around the middle of his rifle. Her eyes never left him as he appeared closer. She didn't have any expectation of acknowledgement although she so wishes he would recognize her. But a man would never assume to look for his ladylike sister in an olive clad uniform standing at attention in the midst of an army of men on a battlefield. He marched swiftly past and it was all she could do to contain her tears. Army men were not permitted to cry while at attention. Ahh yes, she must learn the unspoken rule if she wanted to last here. Her brow narrowed in fierce determination as she held herself in check. The men continued to pass, but she took no notice of them. Her mind raced with images of her young brother. Not the young lad who had passed her moments before, but the cheery-eyed, fun loving brother that ha been playing in the cobblestone streets with his friends only months before. The bright-eyed boy who had a passion for life and art and was an excellent and detailed drawer.

His infinite sketches hung about his room, making it look more like a gallery than a place to rest one's head from the weariness of the day. No, in the night, her brother came alive and drew the visions of his imagination. Many times he had peeled candle wax off of his work from the long hours of night that his charcoal had scratched brilliance into the rough scraps of paper. That was where he should be now. Not marching here in the rolling hills of a soon to be battle scene, although he would be sure to say the same to her if he were to catch a glimpse of her.

Months ago they had sensed a change in him. Something hasn't been right. His drawings had started to resemble remotely soldiers and battle scenes. The twinkle in his eye that she loved so much had dispersed. He kept himself holed in his room and came out only to eat his solely to eat his sober meals. At sixteen he was not allowed into the army and it seemed to take a tole on him. A little over a month ago he had asked their parents if he might join the armed forces somehow. Of course, as expected, they had lectured him saying that there was plenty to help with at home. This did not satisfy his quench to be of use.

His usual leisure walks that he said were made to inspire became longer. Instead of his usual relaxed expression that he usually carried into the house on these occasions, his face would be stiff . The lines of his face hardened both with determination and fear. His eyes shifted from the faces that made up his family as if he had something to hide. They Gould have caught the signs. They should have known that the young innocent boy had a violent secret that would change the course of his life and theirs forever.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud gunshot by her side. She started to flinch, then stopped herself as she realized that she too was supposed to sound her rifle to announce that the last of the marchers had passed. She swiftly raised her gun from position and fired a swift shot aiming for the bell across the field that would announce the end of the line. She aimed and hit with no trouble whatsoever. Funny, no wonder she had been able to fit in so easily with these men. If anything proved her "manliness" it was the ease and accuracy of her shot. She lowered the rifle from her shoulder and set the butt between her boot covered feet.

Under the sole of her right foot was a very lightly wrapped bundle. In the bundle lay three treasures. A flat, charm cross that her mother had given her so that she might always lean on God for her journeys through life (although I'm sure her mother never thought she would use it for this reason). The second was a small metal for bravery given to her by her father in an emotional scene a month before. And the third, something that brought a slight smile to her face regardless of the fact that she was standing on a battlefield, a beautiful, perfect engagement ring. Something she knew held great promise, love and commitment. Only a man of amazing strength, in her eyes, would propose to a woman her had disguised and volunteered herself into the war and cut her hair in such and unladylike fashion.