Home By Christmas

Chapter Three - Daniel

"Everyone's gone mad," Daniel said, pushing his bicycle across the stones. He stared at the line of people pouring out of the town hall, each one eager to put their name to a piece of paper and sign their lives away.

The line consisted of young men, most no older than Daniel, with some far younger than him trying their best to appear older. Some stood on their toes, others straightened their backs and tried to comb unruly mops of hair. They jostled with each other, shared jokes, and fantastical ideas of what they expected to happen. Daniel watched them with an ache in his stomach. None of them knew what they were signing up for.

"It's not madness, Daniel. It's pride. We all want a bit of glory now and then. This is the perfect opportunity. Why waste it? Not all of us want to work on farms our entire life," his friend George said.

"I wouldn't want glory at the cost of my life or my morality."

George shrugged. "Father believes the war will be over by Christmas, as does Benjamin. Think about it, Daniel. A few months away from the farm, not having to worry about farm chores or mucking out stables. Then, after showing the Germans whose boss, we come home heroes."

"You don't really believe that, do you? The Kaiser giving up after a few months?"

"They'll take one look at our army and go running scared. We might not even need to fire a gun. Imagine it. The glory, but without all the hard work. Sounds like a dream to me."

Ever since they had been children, George spoke of how he wanted his name to be known. He wanted to do something noteworthy, to be known as something more than a farmer from the countryside. Like most young men, George saw the war as an opportunity. Daniel saw it as a dead sentence.

Daniel stared at the ever-growing line of young men pouring out of the town hall. He wondered whether there would be any young men left in the village come the end of the week as the line stretched on. The men in that line were people Daniel knew from school, brothers of the farmhands who worked for his father, boys who still had baby fat clinging to their cheeks. All of them were queuing up because someone told them they would be a hero.

All anyone could talk about was the war. It travelled on the wind, drifted through the cracks in the window, and was perched on the lips of everyone they met. War lurked behind every corner, but Daniel remained steadfast in his decision. He couldn't see the appeal of putting his name to a piece of paper that would determine his future. If he would even have a future.

"Come on, Daniel, at least consider it." George followed him into the bakery, their bicycles left by the door. "Glory, girls, what's not to love?"

"Almost being killed?"

"Don't be such a downer. Think about it. This could be the moment Maisie Thornton finally talks to you. All you need to do is put on a uniform."

Daniel tore his eyes away from the baker, who was wrapping a loaf of bread in wax-paper — their usual order. "I don't think Maisie Thornton has ever even looked at me."

"She will if you're in uniform. Trust me, you'll be fighting the girls off with a stick. If you want to, that is."

"If it weren't for this arthritic hip, I'd be adding my name alongside yours, lads," the baker said. He handed Daniel the wrapped bread and pressed his hands against the counter. "You're doing the right thing, defending your country."

"Well, I will be. Daniel –" George slapped him on the back "– is still undecided."

"What does your father think of that? Ronald Morris doesn't seem like the type of man to let his son stay behind when there's war to be fought."