1950

2.

War was loud.

We heard it from faraway. We knew it was coming, without receiving a letter. We could sense it in the gloomy sky, hear it from the explosions that everyday grew closer and fear it from the tales our grandparents who had been there for world war 1 told us. Even the idea of war was loud.

Men slowly departed. Everyday, hundreds left Yorkshire and most of them stayed in Europe. At first, we would gather to our neighbors who had just lost their masculine figure and bring food, trying to lighten up the mood, but departures became so frequent that we couldn't keep up with the constant flow. We were lucky our roads were made out of dirt, because all of the tears shed would've flooded our cities. According to our mood, that fall was one of the gloomiest I had seen in my 17 years of life. Even the pain from war was loud.

Then one day, as I was heading to the market, a poster caught my eye. Written in tall bold letters were the words:

WOMEN NEEDED
If you are over 16 and looking to help our country win this war, go to 213 Pember street to be assigned a role

I had always fantasized over women who worked. To me, they seemed strong and confident, way different than the way they usually were described, which rarely was positive. I always stayed quiet, in fear to bring shame on my family, but this offer felt perfect for me, like fallen from the sky. Forgetting all about my shopping, I turned on my heels and headed the opposite way, towards Pember street, which was considered to be the Main street in our little town. My heart felt too big for my chest, beating to the sound of my feet thumping the ground. During war, even hope was loud.

That night, I walked through the front door later than usual. Mother was knitting in front of the fire and father was reading that day's newspaper, filled with news of the war. I couldn't hide the smile from my delicate face.

« -Elizabeth, you spent the whole afternoon in town and didn't bring anything back. That man better be wealthy and handsome...

-Mother, there is no man. I am a nurse. »

My father looked up,

« -You want to be a nurse? »he asks doubtfully.

« -No, father, I am already a nurse. I became one today. When I'll wake up, two weeks from now, I'll be going to London. »

I will spare you the details of the following events. After tears and screams and much hair pulling, my parents finally acknowledged the fact that I was a worker. In the war.

And two weeks later, I was on my way to London.

Was is loud, war is proud. And so was I.