I've always loved history and thought of it as just one amazing (albeit long) story. WW1 has...
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20th September 1914:
If I was expecting anger and shouting. I didn’t get it. No, all I got was this irritating silence. Ever since Johnny broke down and told mother all about us going to war, stupid Momma’s boy. Johnny’s started crying himself to sleep again; he hasn’t done that in years. Mother blames me for everything, of course. But as far as I recall, it was Johnny who dragged me out of bed and to the recruitment office that day, not I. (Not that I objected, but that’s beside the point.) Mother can’t even look me in the eye, even when I try to explain, to talk to her; she just stares at me like I’m a stranger. Even Rosie finds it hard to talk to me. You would think they could at least try. We are leaving tomorrow after all.