A Bit of Colored Ribbon

May 12, 1943

Dear Journal,

The past week and a half has been a whirlwind of activity, I'm still trying to catch a breath. Everyday it is the same routine, though each day seems like a larger challenge than the next, but I am finally getting a slight hang of things (This thought may just be my failing attempts at optimism). 

We wake up with the sun every morning. Niall somehow is up and wide awake before he even gets a sip of coffee in his system, his energy astonishes me. After a rather unappetizing breakfast in the mess hall we line up outside in the field for inspection. Each morning I somehow succeed in not meeting Lieutenant Tomlinson's standards and each evening I find myself on kitchen duty. I don't mind much though, Henry keeps me entertained with his stories and Niall usually sneaks in. Anyway, after inspection it is drills, drills, drills until we can hardly move. Then lunch. Our afternoons are usually spent studying maps, geography, different fighting tactics and strategies. They've not yet allowed us guns, and to be honest I'm quite glad for that. I'm still apprehensive about handling a gun. 

Everyone is still adjusting to life at the training base. Some more slowly than others. A good amount of the boys here have jumped in swiftly while the rest are still homesick and timid about it all. I find myself in the middle of both sides of the spectrum. I'm becoming more and more used to it all, yet things are still a bit bumpy for me. For example, no matter what I do, I always seem to find a way to get on Lieutenant Tomlinson's bad side. He hasn't cracked a smile once in the time since I met him, and he certainly hasn't warmed up to me at all. All I can do is stay in line and focus on trying to somehow meet his expectations, which is a impossible task.

"Up and at 'em, Harry!" Niall's voice is too cheery at six in the morning. He comes to bed hours after me and still is up before dawn. I'm completely boggled at how he hasn't dropped dead of sleep deprivation.

I shield my eyes from the cruel sunlight crashing through the window and groan. Rolling my shoulders I wince, they're still sore from yesterday's drills. So is the rest of my body.

Eyes only partially opened, I slide out of bed and blindly grab my uniform out of my trunk. It takes me ages to get fully dressed, only to realize that my pants are inside out. As I struggle to take them off Niall is whistling as he performs impressive push-ups on the floor.

I roll my eyes, irritated with his ability to 'drop and give fifty' at any given moment. He jumps up, face flushed with exertion, and goes straight into jumping jacks.

"What species are you?" I blink at him. "It's six in the morning. I can hardly tie my shoes correctly and here you are preparing for a triathlon."

He merely laughs, splashing water from the pitcher onto his face. "My dad always said you can't start a day off without a proper work out." 

"Yeah, well we'll see who's laughing when we get to drills and you're exhausted," I mutter under my breath.

I'm not much of a morning person, this much I've learned in the past week.

We enter the mess hall which holds the usual morning grogginess. I perk up slightly at the scent of bacon and coffee wafting through the air. Paul slaps down a mess of greasy slabs of bacon and some mushy eggs, not exactly the breakfast of champions, but I'm too hungry to care. 

I join Niall, Ed, and Nick and sit down beside Nick who nods hello. I'm only half-listening to Niall's chattering as I sip my coffee. The fact that it is too bitter and scalding my throat means nothing to me, it's caffeine. I let in settle into my system and relax as my body begins to wake up. Happier, I pop a piece of bacon into my mouth, trying to get past the fatty film layering it.