I've always loved history and thought of it as just one amazing (albeit long) story. WW1 has...
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21st September 1914:
: What an eventful day! It was around 7’oclock this morning when the time finally came to say goodbye. I stood awkwardly on the doorstep and watched as mother fussed over an embarrassed looking Johnny, ruffling his hair tenderly before glancing at me over his shoulder and speaking to me for the first time in days. Saying in a cheerful tone “You make sure you’re home in time for Christmas boys, we’ll be waiting.” I murmured a promise and she gave a weak smile. Rosie, who been standing behind her, silent tears streaming down her sweet little face, gripped us each in a tight embrace before running back to bed. Then it was time to go. Mother stood at the door waving miserably; I walked backwards staring at the house, until it disappeared from sight. It occurred to me that I may never see my childhood home again, but I pushed the thought away quickly. After all as mother said we would be home again for Christmas. Johnny and I walked to the station as we’d been instructed by the recruitment officers. There we were met again by Johnny’s friends and many men I’d seen around the village. This was it! We really were going to war!
The rest of the day passed in a blur. We took to the train to Dover, were we caught the ferry to Calais. I could not enjoy the novelty of going on a ferry for the first time as I spent the whole ride by Johnny’s side as he threw up the entire contents of his breakfast and more. Apparently travel sickness runs in the family. We eventually got to the training centre after yet another train ride. By the time they’d kitted us out and given us our uniforms, I was ready to collapse. As so many men have signed up, there isn’t much room for all of us. Turns out we’ll be sleeping 10 to a tent. All of a sudden I’m starting to feel awfully homesick.