June 14, 1916
Happy BIRTHDAY TO MEEE!!!!! Mr. Granger gave me the day off today (thanks to the fact that I did his share of the farm work yesterday). It was also probably because today I, Bradley Swift, become 18 years of age. I beseech a rite of passage… partially because mother made me feel a bit emasculated by giving me this journal. Anyway, after I got this and kissed my mom and grabbed my knapsack, etc., I dashed to Charlotte’s house (She is my closest friend on this entire globe, she’s like a little sister) and I greeted Mr. Granger. He was acted quite friendly today, he greeted me with an embrace and said: “My boy, don’t be thinking this is the last time you can stay!” (It’s like tradition; we always have sleepovers on each other’s birthday) “Just because you’re becoming a man doesn’t mean I don’t know ya’! In fact, Imma trust ya’ even more with my daughter, got it?” Honestly, I felt kind of awkward. It’s like, I love Charlotte and I would do anything for her, but I never really considered her in that way. Plus, she’s only got eyes for Rupert. I don’t see how her dad didn’t realize it when she turned cherry red at graduation as she kissed his cheek.
Anyhow, moments ago, Charlotte and I were talking about how her dad was called to war and how he is in no condition for it. Charlotte feels horrid. I’ve been trying my best to comfort her. I don’t think she even needs me for it though. She seems so enthusiastic about the idea of her being in the war; I bet she’d be a top notch soldier, too bad she’s a girl. BUT she did give me the best idea in the WORLD. If I enlist, I would not only be a man, I’d be a hero. Then I could finally become someone on the same level of this firecracker and her beloved.
I’ve decided. I will get up first thing tomorrow morning, before Charlotte or anyone else, and enlist. (I don’t want anyone to know and try to convince me out of it.)
P.S. Rupert got here late. We got to talk when Charlotte fell asleep. He’s gonna join me in the morning.
January 11, 1917
So it's been a while. I just completed all my training and we're being sent off tomorrow. I feel like I should be more nervous. I just can't though; I'm one day away from actively wielding a weapon in battle.
Lately, I have been haunted by guilt about leaving Charlotte behind... It came out of nowhere, though! At least I made a new friend. He joined out of the blue and caught up with the infantry Rupert and I are in. He is amazing. I think I can use him to feel a bit better though, I feel like I've known him my entire life. His name is Charles. I swear. He's a spitting image of Charlotte! Turns out he is a long lost relative of some sort. I will have to write a letter back home soon. I want an explanation for never having been told about him.
Oh! Before I forget, today I was asked to keep a record of my experiences for some historical something or other… So I need to be keeping important details, which I will get out of the way for today.
My name is Bradley Swift. I am 18 years old. I used to be a farmer in Somerset before joining last June. I came looking for a rite of passage while seeing the world outside my hometown. I currently serve as an infantry soldier in division 14. I was told that we will be going to the Western front.
February 7, 1917
So we’ve been in the trenches for about three weeks. Charles keeps saying that he feels a battle coming on. I’m starting to think he’s a peculiar one, but something makes me trust him. With that Charlie did get a conversation started. Each bloke had another bit of story as to what these past two years were all about. I felt pretty abandoned for I had nothing to add; it was all new to me. There were many times when I felt pretty ignorant because I had no bloody idea what the men were talking about. That is when Charlie would come in and explain everything, making it seem as if he were just talking about some childhood memory that I was totally aware of.
Anyway, I have a pretty good understanding on what got this war started. You see, for a while back, every country’s military has been improving. With that, we were able to take many territories, so did our ally, France. Germany had the least since it came in late on the action. Plus, we are a part of this thing called the “Triple Entente”. It’s this big alliance with France and Russia. Meanwhile, Germany has this alliance with Austria-Hungary. At one point, Austria-Hungary invaded Serbia, which has a separate agreement with Russia. So Russia came in trying to help. In response, Germany declared war on Russia. Then, France wanted a part in it too. Germany declared war on them. To get to France, Germany tried using Belgium. We have an agreement with Belgium to protect them. When Germany insisted on trying to use them, we officially declared war on Germany.
Now back to Charles, he saved my arse. I almost ended up being the “baby” in the group for my “innocence”. There is something quite intriguing about Charles. I just can’t put my finger on it; there is still this weird feeling that draws me to him. That reminds me! I really better write that letter home.
March 2, 1917
I don’t know what is going on today, but is seems that everyone was caught in a writing spell of some sort. These past few weeks have been hectic. I cannot describe how muffled my thoughts actually are. We haven’t really gotten ANY good sleep. On top of that, there are constantly jobs to be done. I didn’t even have to work this hard on the farm! Besides the tumult of our calmer days, we have already been caught in five battles. About eighty men are gone. In fact, in the last battle Charlie pulled a fast one. I don’t really understand how he did it; but we were saved from a bombing. I can’t describe it very well because I had found a comfy, rat-less hole and was out like a light. Not two minutes into my rest, Charlie was shaking me and waking me up. He was yelling, and I was dazed. We somehow managed to grab our gear and shuffle out just far enough not to die from a direct hit. We still hadn’t managed to be a good enough distance for safety though. Then, the most amazing thing happened. My eyes were still blurry and I had yet to grab a firm hold on reality when another shell was headed for us. Charlie tossed our things and in the moment it took for me to look back at him; he was tackling me down. He was huddled over me with his eyes shut. All I could do was stare at him in awe, watching his face light up with the explosion particles flying over us. All of a sudden, I could see just how skinny Charlie really was. He almost sounded like Charlotte every once in a while, when pieces of wood would stab his back. I was frozen. Now all I can think about is how guilty I feel that I did nothing. I’ve grown this urgent sense to protect him and stay by his side. I guess that is what that weird feeling in my gut was all along… Even so, I still feel like I need to do more for him.
Now that things have calmed down, trench life really seems a lot grimmer than I initially thought. The grub is ghastly. We only ever have beans and stale bread. It doesn’t seem so bad when you’re starving. You only realize the after effects when every man is in the latrine with their own special brand of poison gas. The best parts of my day are when my duty is done and I get a chance to lie next to Charles and ponder. Rupert is usually with us too. The usual ideas are about what we’ll do once it’s all over. I can never really decide. One thing is for sure. I have to tell Charlotte all about it.
March 3, 1917
Dear Mother,
I hope that everything has been going well back home. How are Joseph and Arthur doing without their big brother? I really miss you all. I miss everyone back home. It turns out life as a hero is not so grand. We live out our days in trenches. I think this is where the whole war basically takes place. There are rats all around and the air is whole with a foul stench of corpses, sweat, and latrines. Every day we must survive off of beans and stale bread. THAT does not help the air at all. Plus, about a dozen soldiers have gotten terrible cases of trench foot. I wouldn’t dare describe that to you, for your sake as a lady. My mornings begin with the melody of machine guns. My days end with packing up and preparing to trudge through the night while we are invisible to the enemy eye. I’m really sorry that I’m not comforting you with my stories, but I thought the best I could do was stay alive for you! So this is my proof that I am. I will not describe everything to you because most of it has no words. It is just… I live as if in a dream, or a nightmare. I won’t let any of it really sink in because the images of home are still prevalent in my memories.
I do have some good news! I’ve made a wonderful new friend! His name is Charlie Granger. I believe he is supposed to be some sort of long lost relative of Charlotte’s. Could you please ask Mr. Granger for the story behind this? Oh! Please remind Charlotte that I still await her letters! In fact, with her next one, although I haven’t received any, I want one of her famous cherry pies. Like I was saying, Charlie is a wonderful fellow. He has become a really important person to me. I spend my whole day with him. You know, he saved my life once. Now I have decided to do anything for him. Something inside me just keeps telling me to stay with him. I love that fellow… Actually, I’m starting to be a little confused about that.
I’m starting to lose my train of thought… That last subject really garbled my thoughts. Although it may be uncomfortable, could I please request some of your advice mother?
Oh well… I send you goats of love! Please share it with my brothers, father, and Charlotte. I expect to know from you soon.
Love,
Bradley Swift
March 14, 1917
I BELIEVE I HAVE OFFICIALLY GONE CRAZY! All I can think about is Charlie! He is the last face in my mind before rest and my first thought when I wake. IT MAKES NO SENSE. I have NEVER EVER had any thoughts like these before. I even had a girlfriend for a while back home. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?! I’ve begun to become more and more aware of him. He indeed does have such a slender figure. It’s almost ladylike. He also has small hands and at times speaks with the sweetest voice I have ever heard. He knows my every thought before I speak it. He is also the most nimble and intuitive soldier I have ever seen. Why must HE captivate me so? What’s worse is he is like a male clone of Charlotte, which is utterly confusing. Dear God, forgive these feelings that I do not comprehend. I need your guidance now more than ever.
To clear my mind, I want to talk about the war. Things have been suspiciously clean lately. I mean like there hasn’t been any real fighting. It seems like anything we might get into was just opposing sides passing by each other and continuing their course. The air is tense. I think we are about to get caught up in something big.
Well this is all I’m capable of expressing without over exerting my mind for today. Brad signing off…
March 30, 1917
I just received a letter from back home! There was no cherry pie though…
“Dear Bradley,
Everyone was overjoyed to receive word from you. I’m so happy that you remember me well enough to know exactly what I wanted to know. Also, your brothers are growing up just fine! They have a new hero to model after. Although you may be beginning to think that all the suffering you go through and what you experience is not special or admirable, you’re fighting for a country, which is quite the amazing deed. Every night I pray for you and you have not left my mind since you left.
I do have some terrible news! Charlotte disappeared. She has been gone since about a month after you and Rupert left. Everyone is a bit worried. The person most shaken up was Mr. Granger. She was gone without notice and hasn’t been heard from since. I have calmed down on the subject for I know that wherever she may be, she has her guardian angel by her side.
Now, you had mentioned a new companion of yours name Charlie. I wouldn’t worry about it so much. In the mean time focus on the fact that you have loved ones that are still living as well as people nearby that you can confide in to help keep you from going insane. I am grateful that this “Charlie” person found you. I asked Mr. Granger about the story you had informed me about and he had no idea what I was talking about. If only one could ask Charlotte about this whole mess. I hope she is off somewhere living out her dreams… Oh well, none of us over here can reach her now.
I await your return!
Goats of love, Mama
P.S. I hope my boy is smart enough to put two and two together. If not, he better not be the one I allowed to do battle for our country. What a mess that would be.
Mother, I love you so much. I am a bit… no, that’s an understatement, I AM ENFURIATED with Charlotte. I am about to confront that woman. I have a more satisfying plan for it though. That darn firecracker… She needs to be taught something about fibbing to friends! I will leave her be for a while… Now I have a lot to configure about Charlie.
March 31, 1917
Well today was the most peculiar day I have experienced in this war so far. Charlie came up to confront me about a rumor going around that there was a queer in our battalion. I did not expect him to suspect ME of all people. I mean, I am having conflicting emotions about him, but I never told anyone. Then, I decided to seize the moment with a mischievous idea. Just as he wanted to clarify a suspicion I did as well. At that moment I signaled Charlie and went off to our field.
I got him to come with me far enough to be ignored by the rest of the men. Then I made the most dramatic confession. I dropped to my knees and said: “Charlie, you know that I confide in you my every thought and feeling in this war, so much that my journal lacks attention. Well, there is something very important I need to tell you now that you’ve come to me with this… I- I WANT TO HUG you, KISS you, TOUCH you, FEEL YOU. I WANT YOU TO BE MINE, AND I WANT TO BE YOURS.” After having said that, I was a little conflicted in identifying, out of what I said, what was true and what was a lie…
Charlie just stared at me in awe. His eyes were wide open in surprise, then they changed and I could see more of a sense of pity. He squatted down, never looking away from my eyes, took off his cap, and patted my head saying: “You are the sweetest lad I have ever known. How could you not have noticed? I am so sorry, Stripe… It’s me, Charlotte. Your beloved one end up being a girl, and I am just so sorry…”
…So that’s what mother meant. I am strangely not surprised. How could you not recognize this firecracker...? The only thing that captivated me at that moment was... Charlotte. I was just rejected... by Charlotte.
April 12, 1917
As of yesterday, the entire battalion is moving towards the western front. None of us really know the purpose of our sudden placement. If I do remember correctly, back home I read in the news once that there was a huge battle going on over there. But that was almost a year ago, so we must only be going to guard the area. Also, the commander assigned me to machine gunner! That is so exciting; I am riveted with the notion of when I would actually get to use it.
Charlotte does still think I’m a queer, but it’s alright. With everyone thinking that I have an interest in her and could have one in them, they give me space. She thinks that there is no possible way for me to even think about some of the things men normally consider, especially not involving her. When these factors combine, I am of good use to Charlotte. I am her means of using the bathroom and easing other difficulties. The part I have trouble handling is the showering and/or changing clothes. She has no bloody clue that I am VERY aware of her. Out of respect I still restrain myself as best as I can in those moments, but she has already become so comfortable with me that she is not as aware as I most definitely am.
In other news, Charlotte and I are back to the way we used to be at home. Because of this, my mind goes empty more often than not. Whenever I do try to think, in regards to my surroundings, there is a conflict between the feelings of comfort that I know from home and the fact that I am no longer at home, I am in war. I have yet to fully grasp that aspect of my life. Now it is more difficult, knowing that I am not a stranger to anyone and that death will be three times more real considering how I have loved ones in this battle, they are right next to me…
April 14, 1917
This is MADNESS! All around me, EVERYWHERE, there is nothing but madness! Noises, near and far, of machine guns blasting resound in my ears. I haven’t the slightest idea where Rupert and Charlotte are, if they are even alive. My machine gun is hot, heavy and roaring! I have to be a quick aim and blazer for this bulk of metal is not easily missed. I know I am not the only gunner out here. I have to try to spot the others and take them down so no more of my men are lost. Handling my machine isn’t as simple as I thought. The moment you pick it up and there is a real target, you become greatly aware of every sound, every scream, and every movement. The rest of it all seems to be moving in slow motion. I am sweating and cold. I feel as though there is a fire in my chest. My adrenaline is FLARING and I am one bullet graze away from just jumping out into no man’s land and ending this myself. Although, I could never do that. I do not deserve that honor. I started it all.
Yesterday we arrived on the Western front. The battle zone was right next to us. Apparently the Battle of Delville Wood has not ended. We were not to enter until we were done preparing, which we were supposed to do today. This morning, my first duty was to prepare my machine gun. I cleaned it and greased it. I even prepared the ammo. While handling it, I became a bit over zealous. I fired. Our position was given away. I was shocked at my own stupidity. Right then I noticed this wave of deadly air that was creeping up. I grabbed my mask, jumped down from the gun and ran to any soldier I could find. After I got the word to spread to three or four of them, I thought it fastest to just yell at the top of my lungs and hope for the best. “GAAAAAAS!” I screamed, almost losing my voice. Next thing I knew, there was a mass of German fire against us.
I grabbed my gun again and did my job. I was spot on too. Then, I noticed, from the corner of my eye, a soldier in the open air. It was one of our soldiers. I knew those movements. It was Charlotte. I grabbed the nearest soldier, gave him my place, and the world became a blur. Next thing I knew I was running next to Rupert and we got a hold of Charlotte. She seemed to be dazed, so we dragged her along until she stood on her own. Once she did, the demented woman tried running back. I couldn’t take the anxiety of seeing that again. “The both of you, I need you back in that tree! Stay there until further notice!” Charlotte said, “What!? There is no way! I am going to fight in this battle! You need me—” I interrupted her saying “Rupert, take Charlie and head back to the tree. I need you both to climb up and stay put!” Rupert tried to help Charlotte, “Come Bradley, please, just let us help you. We are the only ones covering this side. We could—” At that moment a machine gun shot just past us. I got a bit angry, “THE BOTH OF YOU, TREE, NOW.” I went back to the mounds and shot at anything that caught my eye. I must have been doing pretty well since the offense on our side was dying down. The last man I saw somehow managed to approach me while I was covering the distance. I could see the whites of his eyes. We both just stared at each other and all that was left was for one of us to shoot first. I’m not sure who it was because I saw him fall
and I have a heck of a wound on my side saying he shot too. That was the last shot today. It was all over, for now. I dropped to my knees. I stayed there for a few minutes until I heard footsteps coming my way. It was Rupert and Charlotte. I knew they saw, so I had to mask it. Hopefully they would believe it was just their imagination. I saw the look in Charlotte’s eyes, there was no fooling her. I still had to try. “Calm down, would you? I’m fine, just a flesh wound, I’ll heal fine, mate.” It was dark all around. My only goal now was to get back to the trenches.
April 15, 1917
*insert bloody hand print here*
That is all I have to say about the pain I’m feeling right now. Dawn is just breaking and I needed to vent. My thoughts may be a bit garbled; I’m feeling a bit feverish. So… when I woke up, I realized I need to change my pants. I think I peed when I got shot. My arm is tired of holding my side. I can’t let go though, the blood has started to seep through my clothes and it will be visible. They would make me leave and I need to stay here and protect Charlotte… It hurts when I breathe.
I find it pretty funny how all the other soldiers are complaining and seem so grim about being at war. I feel like I’m suppose be here. I love being a soldier. I would be preparing just like everyone else right now if I could only move properly. In fact, it’s strangely quiet. I guess I couldn’t have chosen a better time to heal.
How many men am I responsible for taking down yesterday? I wonder what they did back home. I never even got to know the names of a single one of them. Does it make me a bad person to have felt sensational yesterday in battle? I know I took lives of innocent middle-men of this war. I am caught in their same position. The only difference is that I’m alive. It is pretty saddening. Haha, I’m a hypocrite. I shoot people. I feel amazing. I think it’s sad that they are dead. I still want to be a soldier. I consider that to be a quaint example of human nature.
In my dreams, I see the people falling over and over again. I see the man who shot me. I can suddenly slow down that moment when I was running to Charlotte. So many people were on the ground. Those were our men? I know who shot them. I need to avenge us. So many bullets just passed me. How come I can never stop myself and protect them. Instead, I always run straight to Charlotte. She didn’t even need my help. What was I thinking? I say I love being a soldier, but now I see I can’t even do my job right. Where did my honor as a man go? That is what I came out here for! What have I accomplished, NOTHING. I am no hero. I’m a monster. Maybe Mama really did make a mistake sending this boy out to war with her blessing. What am I saying…? This wasn’t Mama’s fault… Why am I here?
I think this is all I can say for today. I’m not feel *insert bloody smudge*
Sorry, I just woke up and tried to wipe away that scribble I made. I’ll write more, later. Right now, I’m going to spend time with Rupert and Charlotte.
April 16, 1917
Yesterday’s events are pretty hazy in my memory. I will still try do describe what I deemed important as well as any little thing I do remember. Well, what I do know is that I was out in the field with the firecracker and her other half (He doesn’t even know she’s there.)(I find it hilarious.). Charlotte kept pestering me about yesterday and me holding my side. She would not take my charade; so she lifted my shirt while I was cloud watching and saw the bullet wound. I hadn’t even seen it yet. That was pretty big. I could have stuck my thumb in there if it wouldn’t hurt so much. Actually, the real funny part is how I thought I was in pain. As soon as my wound was exposed, the two next to me tried pouring their wine on it as a disinfectant. Then, I felt like I was floating in the sky above it all watching my body flex in agony, with groaning like that of a beast. It seemed as though all that was in me at that moment was crying in desperation for help. Then it all went dark again. I woke up and there was a crowd of doctors and nurses running back and forth preparing for surgery. I was given anesthesia and I was out again. This time I was dreaming. All I could see was the farm and Mama. It’s almost as if I could reach out and touch the disappointed look on Mr. Granger’s face because he couldn’t trust me with his daughter as he would have liked.
It smells here. It’s almost like you the trenches but more pus. I hope Charlotte and Rupert come back soon. I would like to give one of them my boots. It is so hot and humid. I have seen about three people with missing limbs being moved from their beds onto the heap of corpses where the flies gather.
When I woke up I was afraid they had amputated. Then I realized that they couldn’t just remove my left side. There is a big hole on me though. It smells too, and hurts. I don’t want to be here. I know I can’t go back to the field. I don’t know where I would go.
There has been a nurse that I can’t help but notice. She seems so curious about so much. Although, she does seem to be a little distant. One time, I saw her drop a paper. I got the next oncoming nurse to bring it to me. It was a poem.
"Back" by Wilfred Gibson (1878-1962)
They ask me where I've been,
And what I've done and seen.
But what can I reply
Who know it wasn't I,
But someone just like me,
Who went across the sea
And with my head and hands
Killed men in foreign lands...
Though I must bear the blame,
Because he bore my name.
I find it interesting. Now I understand what all of the other soldiers were complaining about. It explains that instinct that all of us fall into when we are caught off guard and our lives are in danger. How it’s like something took over our bodies and went mad. I know the feeling well; it’s part of what got me here. There are quite a few things that separate me from this soldier. I didn’t do it solely for myself, so I was very aware of my actions, especially since they determined the fate of those who I was trying to protect. The instinct didn’t control me but guide me. Now, apart from myself, I believe this man speaks for all those on the field. I know everyone has had that moment when they lose control. Once they regain it, someone has died by their hand. In the end, none can live with the guilt that they caused some one’s death.
April 17, 1917
I’ve been feeling feverish again. The last time I looked at my wound it had this strange fluid coming out. That was yesterday night though. I haven’t been able to look at it today because of this shocking pain sent through my abdomen at any attempt. I can’t even sit up.
I just decided to look at the poster I saved for when I started thinking of mama and Charlotte. It helped me know that they actually wanted me to go. Just look at how the women stare at the soldiers marching away. I wanted someone to long for me like that. If I became a soldier, women would actually gaze at me and pay attention to me. I could also become a man worthy enough to be wanted and kept, if I was a soldier. Now that I am one I realize that doesn’t happen, because you are out here. When you’re not here, you are dying or traumatized. Women don’t even notice you because soldiers are a dime a dozen. When you do get to see a woman, she is helping you disinfect your wounds. This poster gave me false assurance about coming out here. I’m glad I did though. I think Charlotte would have “disappeared” anyway. If I hadn’t enlisted I never would be able to protect her. The funny part is, I was hoping that she would gaze at me like the women in this poster. She wasn’t even home to do so. In fact, with my injury, I would probably be the one looking out the window for her arrival. Who am I kidding? I am not leaving. I am lying in my death bed and I know it. I just wish I could see Charlotte one last time. I could die happy with a kiss from her, but Lord knows that isn’t happening. I just wish I could say good-bye to my friends. I wish I could say good-bye to Mama.
To whoever may find this journal, please take it to a soldier named Charlie Granger. Let her him know why this was found. Please tell him where this page is.
Charlotte, I have a task for you. As soon as you read this, write a letter to Mama. Tell her that I love her and send her this journal. I’d hate for it to be lost like a bullet on this battle field.
P.S. I love you. Always have, always will.
Goats of Love,
Bradley Swift
July 7, 1919
This is Mrs. Swift, Bradley’s mother. I have not dared to touch this book for years, in memory of my son. I was inspired to write out his thoughts on the ending of the war that took his life. About ten days ago a peace treaty was signed. It is called the Treaty of Versailles. It was the end of the war between Germany and the Allied Powers. The actual fighting was ended last November on the eleventh with the armistice. It was noted that our country suffered little land devastation.
Bradley would have been so upset and confused. Since he was already so lost on his purpose in the war, now he would have needed to find another “rite of passage”. I could almost see him grabbing his knapsack and running off all flustered. I know he loved his time in the war. He just couldn’t have handled knowing that he did so little and worried so much for no real change.
On the bright side, Bradley only thought he did nothing. With his things I received a Victoria Cross in his honor. It is so heartrending to know that he died not knowing the fruits of his efforts and sacrifices.
We all miss you Bradley. Did you know that there is now a little boy living in your honor? His name is Bradley, too. That child is as much of a firecracker as his mother. His parents smile realizing just how much he just happens to love stripes.