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The Lost Generation

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Author's note: I've always loved history and thought of it as just one amazing (albeit long) story. WW1 has...  Show full author's note »
Author's note: I've always loved history and thought of it as just one amazing (albeit long) story. WW1 has always been an era that interested me so I hope this just shows you how much I really enjoyed learning about it.  « Hide author's note
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30th August 1914:

Mother would kill me if she found out what I did today. I woke up to the sight of my brother silently pacing beside my bed. His head snapped up when he heard me stirring, he thrust a backpack at me before stalking out the room. I looked inside the backpack; there was an apple, a sandwich, a water bottle and a train ticket to London. I quickly shrugged on my coat and raced down the stairs, where Johnny was waiting. When I asked him what was going on and he snarled in the most spiteful voice I’ve ever heard him use to anyone, “Looks like you got your wish, we’re going to war after all” He said no more. I didn’t know what to say to that so we walked to the station in silence. For some reason rather than feeling happy about going to war, all I felt was guilt. Strange. We got to the station were a group of Johnny’s friends were waiting for us. Some looked excited others looked downright miserable. Because we all come from such a small village on the outskirts of London the closest recruitment office is in London itself-the train ride is only about ten minutes long but I couldn’t sit still for a second and the journey stretched on. When we got to London the familiar ‘Your country needs YOU’ posters littered the streets, which were alive with action. A long line of men of all ages, shapes and sizes stretched on for what seemed like miles. We joined the end of it and waited, and waited...... and waited. Occasionally someone would try to lighten the mood with a joke, but everyone was so preoccupied by nerves that the laughs were half hearted and died away quickly- if they came at all. Eventually it was our turn. Everything went better than I could have imagined. I’m taller than most at my age, taller than Johnny-stronger too. They even told me I was in perfect condition “nice and muscle-y” even. When asked my age I puffed out my chest and said “19” the officer raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but said nothing. He wished me luck and ushered on the next man in the queue.
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Vagabond said...
Aug. 18, 2012 at 4:20 am:
Good Job! Keep writing!! :)
 
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