This is basically a collection of drabbles, excerpts, writing exercises etc. from/for my multi-chapter fanfic "With Both Feet on the Ground" and it's a way of sort of advertising my fic, which I've been working on for months but won't be publishing for a while. Why do I feel the need to advertise? For two reasons, first of all to gauge interest in my multi-chapter fic's universe, and second, to hopefully find someone to be my beta for the multi-chap story.
These one-shots/drabbles/etc. are all from the "With Both Feet on the Ground" universe and will be OC heavy so if that's not something you enjoy then you should probably look elsewhere and if you have any suggestions on how to make sure my OC's are fully developed I would love to hear them ^_^
~Excerpt~
May 1940
"My son has joined up. He is with the RAF now," Christopher stated.
"It was only a matter of time wasn't it?"
"Yes," he replied, pressing his lips into a tight thin line.
Lillian knew she would not be able to get much else out of Christopher but that was alright, she could wait until he was ready to share more if he needed to.
They sat in companionable silence, watching the river and listening to the birds in the trees. It all seemed so set apart from the rest of the world, a world embroiled in war.
"Your nephews, have they eh- joined up?"
"Nicholas joined up the moment war was declared."
"He is your sister's boy?"
"That's right."
"And his father works in Whitehall?"
"Yes. It's not at all surprising that he would join up so quickly."
"No, I suppose not. And your other nephew?"
"William? My brother says he is keen to join up."
Keen. Eager. It seemed so strange that anyone would be so impatient to head off to war.
"They think it is going to be some grand and glorious adventure don't they? Of course they think it is morally correct as well, doing there bit for the war effort and all that."
Foyle detected no anger in Lillian's voice, just an infinite sadness.
He had been the same way, a young policemen raring at the bit to do his part, to fight for his country, to leave Hastings for the battlefields of France. And so he had traded one uniform for another and had his visions of the glories of war knocked out of him soon after.
"It is what we have told them isn't it, we have filled their heads with glorious dreams of honor, heroism, and the bright gleam of medals."
She was right, most of the young men going off to fight had no idea of what others before them had gone through. Christopher almost wished he had been less reticent about his wartime experiences with his son. But in the end would it have done any good? Probably not.