When Nora heard about the new friend I had made while on holiday, she had been delighted.

"I'm so excited for you, Meta!" she had exclaimed. "It almost makes up for this letter."

Sergeant Dawson had continued his habit of writing optimistic letters to our parents and telling Lenora about the horrors of war.

Dear Lenora,

Do you remember how I told you one of the nurses was in the family way? The army had been doing its utmost to return her home safely, along with the life she carried. However, on the day she was to leave, her time came.

I'm afraid young Quemus has arrived too early. He's rather small and weak. It will be a miracle if he survives, although the mother seems to be recovering nicely. She requests that her husband, Blaine Crossdale of Trafalgar Square, be informed of her condition.

One of the supply wagons was attacked and overthrown. All week, we've been low on rations. Worst of all, we haven't had access to much needed medicine.

A nurse caught shrapnel in her foot while tending to wounded soldiers. So great was her anguish that she cared not a whit who saw her ankles, although I assured her that having grown up with a mother and three sisters, a woman's ankles meant nothing to me, and I would wrap hers in a blanket while removing the shrapnel from her foot so she'd feel a bit more modest. Although she was quite brave, the operation would have been much easier for us both if I'd had anesthetic. Thankfully, I didn't have to amputate, and she should be walking again in no time. She really ought to be in a wheelchair for now, but we have none to spare.

The young man whose fiancée saved his life died yesterday. He wasn't even brought to the medic's tent; he simply fell in battle, dead before his body hit the ground. I am deeply grieved when I consider how the young lady who gave her life for his has died in vain.

Those whose lives I am able to save generally despise me. They shout profanities as I tend their wounds, and they rant for days if I am forced to amputate their limbs to save their lives.

There is nothing at all glamorous about war. Those who make such selfless sacrifices hardly feel heroic, nor are they treated as such upon their return home. I know it is unmanly to shed tears, but when I am alone in my tent, I can't help myself at times. Is there honestly no better way to solve the world's problems than brutally murdering the innocent?

As ever I remain,

David Q. Dawson

Nora said nothing for several minutes after reading the letter; she simply made a pot of chamomile tea.

"Are you going to tell the father?" I asked, sipping my tea.

She nodded. "As soon as I can figure out how to break the news to him that he'll never know his son."

"Perhaps I could go with you," I suggested.

"I'd like that."

When we had finished our tea, we walked to the address that David had listed. I knocked on the door, which was answered by a young child.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"We're looking for Blaine Crossdale," I replied.

She nodded and hurried off, returning shortly with her father.

"Mr. Crossdale?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Meta Dawson, and this is my sister, Lenora. Our brother is serving as a surgeon in Afghanistan, and we have news about your wife."

A look of alarm shot across his face. "Is she hurt?! Tell me!"

"She'll be returning soon," Lenora responded, "honorably discharged. She's expected to make a complete recovery."

Crossdale was relieved, but he still wanted answers. "What happened to her?!"

"She didn't know it when she left, but she carried a child. The army did its best to have her returned immediately, but there were a few delays, and I'm afraid the baby has already been born."

His mind was in absolute chaos. I can't say I blamed him. He had awakened knowing his wife would be home at the end of her duty as a military nurse, but now he was overwhelmed with the knowledge that she would be home soon, and she had brought forth new life.

"It is your child," Nora assured him. "She just didn't know before she left. She has not committed infidelity."

Crossdale nodded. "I know she wouldn't, but…the baby. Is it…?"

"Early."

"Too early?"

Nora and I looked at each other, unsure how to respond.

"We cannot be certain," she finally answered.

He sighed wearily. "Thank you for telling me. She probably tried to tell me herself, but sometimes, her letters don't arrive."