How Wrong I Was

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Alfie? Alfie James White, where the devil are you boy?" My widowed mother, Margaret White, marched down the steps of the small farmhouse, calling me out from the cow shed.  

When I saw her she was almost running towards me, "Alfie, have you heard? A war has begun!" She held out a newspaper, showing me the bold print of the main headline, 'Britain and France at war with Germany'. I read down the page long article slowly enough to take in all of the information, I still didn't really understand the reasons as to why it had started though, apart from that a Prince in Serbia had been assassinated, and that a whole chain of declaration of war between countries happened. Which countries? I didn't know, but somewhere in the mass, Britain seemed to have gotten involved. I handed the paper back to my mother, who was staring up at me with a sudden look of fear on her face. She then asked me sadly, "Alfie, will you join? Because.....because I can't lose you."  

Tears started to roll down her cheeks and I stepped towards her to and hugged her comfortingly. My father had died fighting in the war against Nigeria when I was just a baby. I had grown up to work on the farm and had helped my mother pay the rent and had tried to make live life as normal as I could for my mother and I. My ma had been afraid she'd loose me since father died and the fact that I was the right age to go to war did not help one bit. 

"Mother, believe me, I know how much this will hurt you, but I am needed and I want to protect and serve my country, it's my duty." I took her hand, "But don't worry ma, I've got your strong blood running through me, that's what makes me strong." She was starting to smile through the tears that had been streaming down her face and nodded sadly. 

"You're right I suppose." She pulled away and walked into the small shed to continue where I had stopped in feeding the cattle, "Anyone who can keep a farm and his mother in good condition, and be under 20, now that is some strong person indeed." She said, after wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. I joined her in gathering hay for the animals. 

Once we had fed the cows and milked the few that had produced calves in the recent months, we walked back up to the house, a full to the brim bucket of milk in each of our hands. I set mine down on the small table and reached over to take my mother's, "Thank Alfie," She said, turning up the corner of her mouth in a half smile, she walked over to the stove to prepare a supper for us both, a supper that would probably be our last together for a while.  

The windows of the small room steamed up from the heat that the cooking made, reminding me of the cold and wind that was outside. 

Rain started to splatter on the roof, proving my thought of how miserable it was outside, and soon a loud and fast drumming was being made on the tiles.  

The smell of the stew brought me back to the table where ma had set the pot and I sat in one of the rickety old chairs. We ate in silence, for any attempt to speak was drowned out by the rain. The meal warmed me up and took my mind of the news of war but then ma spoke again about it again, putting me back into a sad mood,  

"How am I going to look after the farm with you gone Alfie? The landlord is already on our case about rent," she stood up and took the dirty dishes and stacked them so that they could be washed later. I stood up just a fraction of a second later and started to walk around the room thinking,  

"We could sell a few of the calves, and maybe," I paused to think before carrying on, "We could sell Harry to the army, he'd be good at pulling carts and weaponry." I suggested as a solution to gain us money,  

Harry was one of our plough horses and was thought of as part of the family, but desperate times call for desperate measures and at that point all I wanted was to help my mother. She nodded in agreement, "How about you take him down to the town when you go and....." She covered her mouth with her hand to capture a sob, "...join up." She quickly busied herself to eradicate thoughts of me in the army by trying to clean the already shining stove.

When the sun had finally set over the horizon I made my way up to my small bedroom after putting a blanket over my sleeping mother. She had drifted off just an hour after our supper in the only armchair we had, I had stayed for a while but the small, uncomfortable table chair I was in, began to make my back ache.  

I climbed into the small bed and as I did I almost fell immediately asleep, dreaming of the war and its consequences, and how it would be easy, all I would have to do was to shoot a few Germans and that would be it. Oh how wrong I was.