had always been looked up to as the oldest child in the family.
a role model to two younger brothers who respected him dearly. Thus he was
always pushed to be his best and obey the wishes of his parents. He lived in a
large country house in the small town of Settington. Settington was what most
small English towns were, absolutely dull. His mother, Darcy what what would be
expected of a resident mother of a small English town, absolutely boring as
well, as were his father and two brothers. Billy was 18 already, he had a job at
the local butchery, slicing meat on hot summer days was not necessarily so
boring, but somewhat grueling and an unpleasurable task. He and his brothers
(one seven and the other eight years younger than he) did their best to
entertain themselves during the muggy summer weeks. Catching frogs at the pond,
picnics, bicycles, football, and a whole dizzying number of games that eight
year olds could think of. Life was stuffy, boring, and the only world they knew
was their small town.
Then came the news of war, a topic which truly made Billy nervous. He would
have to enlist, or eventually be drafted to go to France. But what a change it
would be, what an adventure, the occurrence of a lifetime, not everyone gets to
see such history in the making from so close! Billy could hear his own father
repeating these words. An opportunity,an adventure, an honor. His little
brothers were at first unsure, but with the confidence of their father they
became thrilled at the idea. Then the posters began to appear.
"Go! It's your duty ,Lad!"
"Make Mum proud!"
"Remember the Lusitania"
"Could we be next? Fight in France!"
They throbbed like bad songs in his head, the newspapers and journals, with
their ballads and poems of glorious death and knightly valiance. His father
wouldn't leave him in peace either. Every moment that they were both alone in
the, he could only talk about the honor and pride that being a soldier would be.
And one day as the other boys his age began to unravel their plans and dreams of
enlistment, they asked him if he was going to join them, he could only say
"yes". The only person who wasn't so thrilled, and maybe the only one with any
sense was his mother.
Mother, she was worried beyond belief and regretted the accursed day that he
was to leave home, their little village, and off to some far off war she cared
little about. But as he stepped on that wagon to leave his town, he looked back
and saw the old men tipping their hats, mothers crying, and young girls waving.
These visions washed away the fear that had so gripped him prior to this day. He
felt it gave him the power and bravery to look forward, and come back a hero.
The enthusiasm was absorbed by the entire group of boys.
As he went through training, every day he wished to skewer a German with his
bayonet, more and more. He had to skewer somebody! And when that awful day
approached, they marched into a dirty muddy trench, shining with colour,
contrasting the other men and landscape, after that day, the smiles were dropped
one by one off of their faces as they realized that they to would have to watch
each other die. Billy is now quite a mess, with many other of his hometown
comrades, spread in pieces all over a French field, denied a burial, denied humanity. There are no more knights in France