The war started in some boring old way that I don't pretend to understand or care about.
It seemed to happen all of a sudden, it was dreaded after the last and none of us had expected it all to happen so quickly. But then there were all of these lists and recruitments.
It was only a few weeks after I'd met him. It had been at a dance organised to keep the youth 'cheerful'. He was standing in the far corner with Joseph Marson, a boy who attended our church, he was tall and wore a smart suit.
I remember that night better than any other in my whole life. I wore a red tea dress that mother said made me look 'like I would give the boys anything' which made me blush, but then I couldn't help but think that she was jealous because I looked reallu quite beautiful. I had heals on for the first time, my hair was curled, it had taken mother hours to do with rags and sugar water.
And there he had stood.
I'll forever remember that look of appreciation and interest. I had whispered to my friend Laura, asking who he was, no one had known...
But that was then, before it had happened. When love wasn't such a secret luxury and danger didn't make you want to be married in the eyes of God NOW.
I also remember the day that nearly all the young men of our village left. They were all in uniform, or atleast the ones who had been prepared. He told me that he wore his fathers uniform. His father had been in the previous war and had come back injured, but a hero.
Hero - thats all anyone cares about.
I don't, I just want him back.
He walked away from me, jaw set against the bombs as though determination and grit might be the only protection he would need.
I remember that kiss.
Everytime I think about it there's a little flutter in my stomach. That kiss proved that he loved me. His lips fit mine perfectly - soul mates. I had had to move to tiptoes to reach him. HIs hands had pulled me close and I could feel the heat of him through my blouse and my shirt.
His smell. I had breathed it in for a few long moments, wanting to engrave it to memory.
Gone. They had all marched away, leaving their fathers proud, their mothers crying and their love's wishing to hold them there, no matter how much their country needed them.