June 2, 1940 – Muncie, Indiana

Carter sighed and looked at the crumpled envelope in his hand. He could see where it had been opened and resealed; he could only assume that it had been by censors. His best friend had crossed the border a few weeks ago to enlist in the Royal Canadian Air Force. This was the first letter that Carter had received from Dan since he had left.

Even back when they had been kids, Dan had always wanted to fly. He had dreamed of leaving the earth behind and dancing among the stars. He had longed to stretch his wings, in more than one way. He had wanted to get out of Muncie and see the world in ways that normal people never got to.

So he had tried to enlist in the American air force, but they had turned him down. They didn't think that he was big enough to handle the four- engine bombers and they had enough fighter pilots. Instead, they had assured him that there was always space for him in the army and that he could always apply for a transfer to the air corps once he was through basic training.

Dan hadn't had the patience to deal with the army's bureaucratic nonsense so he had packed his bags and crossed the Canadian border to join the Royal Canadian Air Force. Canada was at war and they weren't nearly as picky about the men that they took as aircrew. They were willing to take almost anyone who was willing to fight.

Carter smoothed the envelope on the table. Dan had been his best friend since first grade. The teacher had sat them together at a double desk and they had immediately hit it off. The two of them had done almost everything together from that point on; they were inseparable. They had broken their arms together at the age of seven, had bronchitis together when they were twelve. They went on their first dates the same night, although obviously not with one another.

Since that first day sitting together at school, it seemed as if they had been walking hand in hand. One of them hadn't taken a major step without the other following close behind. This was the first time. But there had to be first times for everything. Carter just wished that it had been something more innocent. Almost wished that Dan had just gotten married instead of going off to war.

With that thought in mind, Carter slit open the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper that it contained.

Dear Andrew, he read.

I know that you probably heard long ago that I decided to go north and join the air force up there. I know you knew I was thinking about it, but I didn't make up my mind until the last minute. And when I went, I didn't even tell my parents. I didn't want anyone to talk me out of it.

We all heard months ago that they have looser restrictions up here. Well, those rumours are true. They can't afford to be as choosy because they're sending their aircrew right into combat. I don't know enough to say if it's a real problem, but you hear people whispering about a manpower shortage. It makes me regret the time I spent sitting at home and thinking about joining the RCAF.

You know, they're really amazing, these Canucks. Of the hundred and twenty guys in my training group, two of us are Americans (or Yanks in the slang used around here). Twenty-one are English (or Limeys). Six fellows are Australian (or Aussies) and four are New Zealanders (or Kiwis). All of the rest are Canadian. But it isn't just the ones in uniform; the civilians are great too.

There are four groups the same size as mine training at the base here and the town is smaller than Muncie. Not even ten thousand people are regular residents of the town, but there are almost two thousand people either working or training at the air base here.

Speaking of training, our drill sergeant is quite a character. He's a huge guy. He's well over six feet tall and easily weighs two-hundred-forty pounds. But that's all solid muscle! I don't think there's an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. But this guy has the unlikely handle of Leslie Hore-Belisha. He's a real stickler for discipline on the parade square, but take him out to the bar and he can drink any of us under the table. Then he'll turn around and berate you for failing to salute a superior officer, almost in the same breath. I'd say more, but I want this letter to make it through the censors intact.

Andrew, you have no idea how great it is to fly! It's better than we ever could have imagined, better than words can even describe. It's better than one of your mom's triple-layer chocolate fudge cakes. It's honestly that incredible. Up in the air everything just seems to fade away until you feel like you're a part of the sky. All there is to the world is you and the sky. And I haven't even officially been up yet! However, I did manage to convince one of the sergeant pilots to take me up before he shipped off to a Service Training School.

Anyway, Andrew, I'd love to write more, but I've got to get going. There's a party in our mess tonight. I'm not entirely sure what we're celebrating this time, but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. Give my best to everyone and take care of yourself.

-- Dan

Carter set the letter down on the table, staring at the writing that he knew as well as his own. For a moment, he could almost have convinced himself that Dan was just in the other room, waiting for him to finish correcting a school assignment. But that wasn't the case.

Carter knew that Dan was seeking some sort of approval for his choice. Maybe he was even trying to convince Carter to take the leap and join up. Carter knew that he wasn't ready to go off to war. Until Dan had gone to enlist, it had been almost possible to forget that there was a war going on because it wasn't America's war. But Dan had taken it and made it his war. And because it was Dan's war, Carter knew that it had become his war too.

He might not be ready to fight, but now it was his war too. When he read the newspaper headlines, he would have to see his best friend in them. If he wanted to talk to Dan now, he would have to write a letter and wait the weeks it took to get an answer through the censors and over the border. He couldn't just simply run down the street to knock on the door. They couldn't flash lights between their bedroom windows, as they had when they were children.

Anxious to talk with his friend, even if they couldn't do it in person, Carter moved over to his mother's neatly organized desk and dug around for some writing paper and a pen. When he had found them, he settled into the chair and started to write.

Dear Dan, he wrote.

You missed the husking bee last week. It was a good harvest this year, so this year's bee was one of the best I can remember. Old Man Wichster had his fiddle restrung, so the dance afterwards was great. The music was perfectly in tune! Wendy was asking about you, she missed you as a dancing partner. She hasn't even seen you in your uniform yet, but she's already feeling the pull of the khaki.

As for your drill sergeant being able to drink you under the table, I'm not surprised. Do you remember your cousin Mary's wedding? I know that I only remember the first half! The two of us only had two glasses of wine and neither of us could see straight afterwards. My memory's a little fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure that you stumbled into a few tables, put one of the centerpieces on your head, and told Chris that he was the cat's meow. Then again, that was your aunt Susan's chokecherry wine, and maybe you'll do better on something else.

Or then again, maybe not. Remember getting into the still that Mr. French kept in the shed behind the church? I doubt it. I don't remember much of that one either.

Anyway, you'll never guess what happened Monday night. Mary Jane and I were walking through the park on our way home from a bonfire at the Krill's when we saw Chris and Anne. He was down on one knee trying to propose to her. But, Chris being Chris, he couldn't find the ring. So he's fiddling furiously with his shoelaces with one hand while his other hand is frantically trying to search his pockets for the ring. But he's still trying to distract Anne so she doesn't catch on. I wanted to hide in the bushes and watch, but Mary Jane pulled me away.

Carter's pen scratched on as he continued to fill the paper with news of Muncie and fond remembrances of the happy childhood that he and Dan had shared. It was almost possible to believe that the two were just separated for something innocent, like a summer away at camp. But at heart, Carter knew that the separation was far more definite. They would never really be a pair again.