1914

                                                                                       March 3rd, 1914

“Remember, I’ll be back at eleven.” My cousin coughs as he waves goodbye, going to work. Then he leaves the shed.  I wouldn’t dare call the shed a house, much less a home. The hardwood floor is covered in two sheets of blankets, and the extra pair of clothing for each of us is neatly folded into two piles, one for clean clothes and another for dirty clothes. The counter behind the door to the back way is what holds our cloth and few slices of stale bread. Other than that, it is empty. I wipe the droplets of sweat from my forehead. I look down, realizing I need to take off my dress to clean it. I have to make myself look presentable, for if anybody knocks on the door we both agreed that I should answer it.

          “They would much rather like to see a woman in the house, than a man. Plus, if they’d try to do anything you have more muscle than me.” My cousin had grinned, giving me a wink. He was right; though he was older I have been trained by my father when he was still alive.

           I look over at either pile. My cousin was the only one with clean clothes. I roll my eyes, pulling off my worn dress and grabbing the white shirt of my cousin’s. I slip it on, along with his green sweatpants. Oh well, I think. I’ll wear them while I get some water. The water in our household is still old fashioned. The pump is outside, and we need to take a bucket with us. I put on a hat, tucking in my bun. I get the water and trudge inside, plopping it on the counter. Looking in my reflection, I notice the bit of mud around my chin, making me look like I had a 5 o’clock shadow. I look completely like a man. But I’m not. My name is Ivory Mae Jensen, I am seventeen years old, and I am female. I barely get to pick up my dress when a knock on my door occurs.

          I open the door to see a man in a white shirt and deep green trousers, standing there with a list. “Hello sir, you must come with me.” He orders me. I obey and follow, though not too happy about his assumption. He must think I’m my cousin! I follow him to his truck, as well a deep green.

          “You must have heard of the war, Mister Jensen. And you are on the list. You must have signed up a couple months ago in case there was one in change of a generous amount of money. And we are collecting our debt.” He concludes with a sly grin. I reposition my hat to hide my bun even more. If they found out I really was a girl, I don’t know what would happen. But, wouldn’t they notice my chest? I guess I was always flat-chested. Yet, still it’s a little odd… This is real. I might be an illusion from here on.

                                                                                      November 29th, 1914

          Before, I wondered what the war would look like. Smell like. I wasn’t worried about the kills like you’d think I would. When I was younger, my cousin would occasionally bring me hunting for deer. Here I am, lying in the trenches. I know how the war smells like now. It’s rotten, the smell of human blood everywhere, the odours of filthy men and the screams of others haunting me. I still cannot explain the sight of it, for I took the trenches. I could have worked harder; I could have gotten a better position. But I am I coward. There is a man leaning to the mud beside me, whom I can always trust to talk to when we’re off duty. His name is Jarred Dublin.

"Hey, Jensen, What do you hate most about this place?" He asks with the same grin on his face as my cousin's. That's why I love him. I also, sort of, maybe like him in the non-professional way, but let us never get into that.