Survival's Not Fair

the letter

Harry's saturday sucked. He was supposed to help his sister Gemma clean the kitchen since his parents were out, but instead he was laying on the couch in the living room, internally debating what to do on a day like this.

It was still late winter and it was raining outside. The open living room window allowed the cool air to flow inside and fill the house with the smell of wet earth and grass, which, as unromantic as it might sound, was actually very calming.

The thing was that Harry wanted to enjoy it, but he couldn't.

Reason was, that over the last two weeks, a few of his friends had received letters from barracks near London, that prompted them to show up at different train stations, from which they would be brought to the coast to sail over to France and join the war.
Most male teenagers that turned eighteen had to join the army and Harry's eighteenth birthday had been just a week ago, so forgive him for being nervous.
Of course, everyone tried to find out as much as possible about what would await who went to war, but newspapers nowadays didn't go in much detail and the only thing that was even mildly interesting were the lists of the dead English soldiers that had been killed. After a while though, there had been far too many names to list and now there was barely any new information they could use to speculate about what it might be like to fight.

There hadn't been very many men that had returned. The ones that did though, we're either unresponsive due to injury or they were traumatised and staring blankly into space and no one was quite able to tell what exactly had happened to them.

Needless to say, Harry wasn't exactly keen on fighting.
Despite being quite a bit more athletically trained and strong than an average eighteen year old, which should probably make him feel at least a bit better, he was scared.

Leaving for war meant leaving his family and friends that didn't have to leave yet.
Leaving meant being pushed around and yelled at while standing in a crowded field for hours with no water.
Leaving meant possibly, or surely having to kill, having to murder men and boys as the Germans had even started sending twelve year olds to the front.
And finally, leaving meant putting himself at risk (and if what he had heard was true), at a very high risk of being shot dead or wounded to the point where there was no hope for him to survive and he would be left there to bleed out slowly to death.

All in all, he really really didn't want to leave.
But he knew that if he got a letter, he would have to.
It was what every boy his age had to go through now.

These sort of thoughts had been running through his mind continuously for weeks and he hadn't been able figure anything out yet.
He kept telling himself that maybe, they wouldn't send him a letter. Maybe, they had accidentally skipped his name on the list of adult teenagers that would be sent away and that maybe, just maybe, he could stay.

Still, if he was being honest with himself, he knew he would have to leave. It wasn't a question of if, but it was a question of when.

Now though, he was still laying on the leather couch in the living room, staring across the room and out of the window, lost in thoughts, distantly hearing the sound of plates and mugs being placed in the cupboard above the kitchen counter where his sister was still doing her chores.

Harry had noticed that she had been unusually kind to him.
He had caught her staring at him, looking away quickly when their gazes met and pretending that nothing had happened.
It appeared as if she had taken notice of Harry's mental absence the past weeks but didn't want to talk to him about it.

He knew that she was going to be lonely once he left. The two usually spent a lot of time together and if what he had heard was true, he wouldn't even be allowed to send his family letters while he was overseas.

"Harry?"

Gemmas voice came from the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"Come over here for a moment."

Harry pushed himself up from his laying position and proceeded to walk over to the kitchen where his sister was drying off a plate she had apparently just cleaned.
When he entered the room, she gave him a quick look over the shoulder and put the plate down, then turned around, leaning on the counter.

"I figured we need to talk." She said.
Her voice was soft, careful even, as if she was trying not to offend him.
Even if she did, Harry wouldn't raise his voice at her.
Respecting everyone equally was something his parents had tought him since he could remember.

"Right," he started, "Go on then."

"Look, Harry I can see how sad you are lately and it hurts me to see you like that. It's because of the letters, isn't it?"

She was right.

"I just don't want to leave home. It might sound really childish but I'm scared to die. I hate the thought of never being able to tell you, mum and dad what happened there. No one even knows how long the war's going to be and what if I have to fight for a decade or more? And I'll be lonely the entire time. What if I go insane like some of those that were shipped back home? What if-"

"Harry!" Gemma interrupted him. "I hate to break it to you but there's no point in complaining when you have to go anyway. You are not weak, Harry. I know you don't want to go and fight but you are the kind of person that they need. You're young, strong, and not stupid. You're of great use for them and if you give your best, no one can blame you for not trying. Yes, we will miss you to death, Harry but if you have to leave mum, at least make her the proudest mum to ever live."

"And if I die?" Harry felt like he was close to tears but he wouldn't allow them to fall. Not in front of Gemma.
But he knew she could tell anyway.

"You're not going to die, Harry. Please just-" She rubbed her eyes that were watery and blinked hard. "Please just try to be as careful and save as possible, ok? Can you promise?"

"It's war, Gemma, how can I be careful or save?" He reminded her.

There were tears running down her face now and she looked genuinely scared.
"Harry please just promise me." She choked out.

Harry leaned forward and reached for her arm. He pulled her close to him and she leaned against him as he wrapped his arms around her protectively, resting his chin on her head since he was much taller.

"Gem, I promise you I'll try to be as careful and save as I can possibly be.
And I'll come back as soon as possible."

She was still crying in his arms and it hurt Harry so see her like this, knowing she was crying over him.

When she mumbled a broken "thank you", he couldn't hold his tears anymore. His throat and chest felt tight and hot tears were spilling from his eyes. He was shaking like Gemma was, but he kept his arms tightly around her.