March 16th, 1914
I have decided to keep a journal of my experiences in the war that has begun between Germany and England. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm James Nicholls, and I have been appointed a Captain.
I volunteered for service in the army, as I come from a rich family with everything passed down to me, but I believe that every man who is capable of fighting should stand for their country and protect the innocent. So here I am, 28 years old, and going into war.
When I was a boy, I would think about war quite a lot, wonder what it was like. I found it quite interesting… As battle goes on I might be forced to question those ideals.
Today was the day the war started. People running about the streets of town, some patriotic and some distressed, worried for their loved ones. I have no family to weep for me. My father died when I was four years old serving in the line of duty, and my mother died when I turned 15. At least she was able to see me grow. I wish she could see me now, grown into a fine young man… I want to be able to make someone proud.
All I have for kinship and company is my fellow soldiers, serving in the same squadron as I, by the names of Charlie Waverly, who is a lieutenant, and my superior, Major Jamie Stewart. We met in the line to initiation, where Charlie was standing after being drafted, and Jamie was accepting everyone into the army. He has been with the army before, but never in battle.
Charlie is a tad younger than I am, and Jamie is slightly older. We have become good chums.
When all the men and horses were assembled, it was time to embark on our travel cross fields to our camps, where we keep the horses, and eat and sleep. I have never been to one, and am anxious to see what it looks like. As I write, I am sitting in the coach being pulled toward our destination, being waved and applauded by the people of the town, wishing us luck and seeing us off.
There's cheering, and music to be heard trumpeting through the air. I will raise my fist to show patriotism, and wave in a thank you to the people. I am looking out into the crowd of supporters, and yet I see none of my relation. Jamie recognized this, and comforted me.
I am lucky to have found friends in the army; one of my biggest fears was being alone. Not as though I am a stranger to solitude, but in circumstances as these, it's nice to have amiable company.
Something that happened today in the village gave me a terrible feeling. I felt so conflicted, but I knew what I had to do. When I was finding my mount for battle, I came across a beautiful chestnut brown steed by the name of 'Joey,' and the old man who was selling him said he was in perfect health.
He was selling for 30 ginneys, and I eventually agreed to the deal, but it was all I had in my pocket at the time.
Then, out of nowhere, a boy came running up and grabbed a hold of Joey. He turned to the man, with tears in his eyes, and begging him not to sell Joey. I interrupted.
I had said, 'Excuse me, lad, but I'm afraid it's too late. I just paid 30 ginneys for him!" To this the boy looked at me with pleading eyes. "He won't be any good in the war, sir, he shies at every sound!" he had said in a cockney accent.
I looked down, and had insisted upon the horses service. The boy straightened up. "Well, then, if Joey's going, so am I," he had said. This stabbed at my heart with the pain of this boys love for his horse. 'I see, what's your name, lad?" And he had hastily replied Albert, and informed me that he was 19.
He looked about 16 to me, and I found that hard to believe, so I asked if that was the truth. He confessed that he wasn't 19 yet, but was just as capable to fight as most 19 year olds. I shook my head to this. I didn't doubt his qualifications, but the law clearly stated the proper age for soldiering, and I am a stickler for the law.
I felt horrible about what I had to do, but I promised him that I would take care of Joey, respect him, and possibly one day, return him. I hope with all my heart that I can.