September 23, 1914

September 23,1914

To My Dearest Katherine,

My heart is heavy with sorrow. The days are long and cold without you by my side. The nights, shall I speak of them with such joy? No, I cannot, for they are even colder and longer. The darkness of them envelops my being with such miseries that I cannot bear to speak of. When morning comes, I rejoice only briefly for once I see you are not sleeping by my side, the sadness fills me with such agonies, I fear I might start weeping.

How dare you fill me with such strife, my lady? A man should not wander so deeply into matters best left for the womenfolk. I fear what my kinsmen would do to me should they happen upon this letter. For you, I shall chance it. Better for my love to spill out here in words rather than my blood be spilt on the battlefield.

How are you faring my dear madam? Has the war touched your family as much as mine? Has it grazed your soul or deeply wounded it? Is your sister still on the make with every poor man she meets? Does she still consort with them like a flapper hoping for a nickel to keep her company at night? Has she found a man that will keep her in his heart forever or just in his bed for a night? What of your dear father? Does he still seek pleasures with other men or has your mother finally satisfied his lustful urges? Has she forgiven him for his youthful misadventures with the lads? She is lucky to have found a man of means. She should do as she needs to keep his wandering eyes upon her and not some men who want nothing more than a quick tumble in bed. Whilst she knows there are things of more import in life, it would not be wise for her to dwell on such things that one has no control over. I see why she is fond of the drink. Nights spent at the bar are best spent with her husband. One should hope your sainted mum would be cautious in her liaisons with liquor lest she meet a man of a lecherous nature who would seek pleasures best shared between a husband and wife. It is far to easy for judgement to be clouded in such a drunken state.

And what of our little one, my dearest? Does he miss his dear old dad as much you do? Does he still stare at you with those big beautiful eyes as you sing to him? Does he still cry all night and sleep all day? Those sleepless nights must take its toll on you. My dearest do not fret about it though. ‘Tis one of the many joys of motherhood. Nurture and cherish the life that we created together. It is a mother’s holy joy to care and love things whilst its a father’s holy duty to guide and protect it from the evils of the world.

There is no greater evil than war. I pray you never see the real horrors of it, my dearest one. The toll it takes on these men’s minds and hearts, I cannot speak of it but fear I must, lest I drag you down into the depths of sorrow and despair with me. Forgive me for laying all my demons at you doorstep. A lady should never hear such things. I hope your delicate mind can handle it.

John is holed up here with me in this hovel. He is drenched in his grief. The alcohol on his breath and in the air does little to lessen his pain. All he can talk about is the warm air and green fields of his home. I fear it won’t be long before he escapes this shelter and makes his way back there. Love for home is endearing is it not? He does not have anyone waiting for him there except his four room house. It warms the heart to see him care so much about something that is made out of wood.

Another one of my friends here is Frank. He doesn’t have a traditional home to go back to once the war is over. I think he has gotten used to this dreary place we found as a shelter. To him, it must be better than the streets. No one can escape the this senseless war even the men who barely can hold a gun. While being here with us has improved his constitution, the circumstances surrounding the war will eventually see him back to the streets. He must live in fear of that day. I hope that he will tell his unfortunate story to a newspaper. The local muckrakers would love to hear his story in depth.

My friend, Henry, is one of the strangest fellows here. While he himself is not odd in appearance or any other mannerisms, his background makes him unsuitable for war. The standards of recruitment have fallen indeed if they should allow a common prostitute such as him here. He seems well learned for someone who makes a living receiving pleasures from other men though. Is it to be believed that he was Mr. Ellington’s personal prostitute? Did he really stay with him to procure an education? Seems like it would be too high a price to pay. The damage to his reputation would keep him out of any respectable business. Such knowledge and effort wasted. The world will never look kindly upon him, but I do admire his pursuit of knowledge. It is one of the best things a man can have besides ambition.

I do not like hiding from the war here in this place but know it is a necessity. That scoundrel Fitzgerald encouraging all those women to present us with white feathers should they happen upon us in the street. It is unheard of. What does he hope to accomplish? Embarrassing men and potentially putting honest young men in danger is not a good pastime. Me and all these young men have too much to live for. I cannot provide for you if I depart this world my dearest one. I hope this letter finds you well and you forgive me for my perceived cowardice. Someone is knocking at the door. I must answer it. I will see you when the dark cloud of war passes.

Yours Always,

Andrew