Another War
Daddy was right about war and borders. In April, the United States declared war on Germany. American men will have to fight.
I recollect the acres of gravestones at Gettysburg, and wonder what those dead would say now. How many acres of graves will this war fill? How many families will lose the last of their branch? I recall the aged Gettysburg veterans, and wonder how many of today’s young men will survive to be aged veterans. How many will be tormented by haints for the rest of their lives?
After Chance graduates, he joins the army to fight in Europe. The words in his letter fill me with a mingling of pride and sadness. Tears slip down my face when I tell Mama. Daddy pats my shoulder, but Grandpa’s look says, “Didn’t I tell ya?”
* * *
In June, a letter arrives from Mrs. Grome addressed to both Grandpa and me. We sit on the back porch, the branch’s water splashing and shimmering in the summer sun. Grandpa’s eyes skim the letter, and he reads her words out loud. “Last week, I went to the dedication of a new monument near Seminary Ridge, a bronze statue of General Robert E. Lee on his horse.”
“General Lee and Traveller!” I say. “Imagine! A Gettysburg monument for a Confederate! Might be folks at the Reunion noticed there weren’t any. I’ll have to tell Corporal Westy.”
Grandpa’s eyes have the same shimmer as the branch.
* * *
Chance writes about his army training, telling of drudgery college didn’t ready him for.
Daddy and Grandpa work the fields and gardens, while Mama and I piece a new dress for me. In between sewing sessions, I squeeze more learning into my head, getting ready for my college examination.
In September, I pack the new dress and my other clothes in a trunk Daddy ordered from Sears, Roebuck, and Company. I put my hairbrush, comb, nightgown, extra stockings, and underthings in a small valise to carry to Marietta. No need to take my trunk unless I pass the examination.
Aunt Freddie, Mr. Crutcher, and the young’uns come early to tell me Goodbye. Mama’s eyes are weepy, but I know my education means near as much to her as it does to me.
Daddy and I walk to Richwood, which takes the whole morning and a dab of afternoon. I freshen up in the wash room before I board the train to Marietta.
On the platform, Daddy hugs me extra tight. “Show them college folks what smart looks like. You got your mama’s brains, and she’s a right smart lady.”
I struggle against tears that press behind my eyes. “Smart enough to marry you.”
