Dear James,
My first letter. I've stopped crying now, because I need to be stronger. My eyes have given out, and they're swollen and red, but I don't care. It doesn't matter. You need someone to be here for you, and I shall.
First thing I did this morning was to go to the hospital and see if there was any free nursing training. Because mum and dad can barely afford anything right now. And there was! So I am starting on Monday, as a trainee nurse. When I was there, I cannot stress enough how terrible it was, how deep their wounds were, how stark the shrieks of pain. And I need to help, James.
Remember when we were leaving school? The old crowd, all of us curious, foolish children in the guises of adults, gangly teenagers at fifteen or fourteen, and we were all discussing what we wanted to do. Of course, there was no question of what we would do (except for you)-help run our family's shops, work at a factory, take up a secretarial course, service, normal jobs like that. But Luke said something about being a soldier, and we were all imagining what it would be like, charging around on horseback, making a lot of noise, looking dapper in uniform? Is it anything like that? Is it?
All my love,
Rose xx
YOU ARE READING
«letters to the somme»
General Fictiona patchwork of letters and telegrams and shorts telling the story of a girl and a boy who are caught in the crossfire of the first world war. all through the heartache and the pain and the blood comes a gleam of hope, of peace. commemorating the ce...
