For the past few days I thought I was going to die. I couldn't grasp that; I was only 17 years old, 9 months away from becoming a real man. I wished that I would get well, wished that I would be able to pull through and fight against this sickness and help my mother (my father was already gone). Wished. Now I beg for the inevitable death to come, I asked for it, called for it. Surely I thought that nothing could get worse than dying from the Spanish Influenza. I was wrong. I didn't know where I was, somewhere away from the hospital though. All I could feel at this moment was fire running through my veins. Every Orpheus of my body was on fire, I could feel it but I didn't see it. I asked for death, for someone, something to kill me, It hurt so bad. Kill me; just kill me, what have I done to deserve this! I wasn't sure if I was thinking it or saying it but it made no difference. Have I committed a sin? Did I wrong someone, I thought I was a good man…I don't understand why I deserve this. What awful crime did I commit that landed me in the fiery pits of Hell!
After what felt like centuries the fire slowly began to leave my fingertips, my arms, my chest; but a new fire started to burn, different from the first, it got stronger and stronger as the fire was extinguishing itself around my body. My throat was unbearably dry, like a torch burning in the inside.
Since the pain in my body began to reside I was able to think clearer, think how I came here and how meaningless my life was before this disaster happened. Things that seemed so important a few days ago are now insignificant. They don't matter. Nothing matters now.
A few days ago, life was much more simpler. All I wanted was to fight in The Great War.
Setting Sunrise
Everything seems complicated now for some reason. I feel like I am hiding everything from my family lately, well my mother. Father pasted away in March from a disease in New York, he was conducting business when he fell ill. He died before he could have arrived home. We mourned of course but life still went on. I became the man of the house but my mother still took care of everything.
It's late August now, and it had just been announced that the drafting age had been lowered to 18. I had just turned 17 in June and I have been anticipating joining to fight in the Great War since it first started. My mother opposed it, she did not want young "boys" fighting, getting themselves killed in some foreign land.
I was not a boy.
I was walking home from the grocery store—my mother wanted bread and milk—when I saw the paper. It was the headline for today. DRAFTING AGE 18. I was content on waiting until I was 21 but now, not having to wait five more years, instead I had to wait ten months before I could fight in the war. No doubt I looked content, perhaps maybe smug, on my way home.
Mother was oblivious to what is going on, not because she was incapable of comprehending but because of her own choice. She wouldn't have discovered the lowering of the drafting age unless someone told her about it. Mother didn't read the paper or listened to news. She didn't want to hear the numbers she said. The number of sons, fathers, husbands that died in the war; she didn't want to hear of the number of people that died from the same disease her husband, my father, had died from. She was sheltering herself. The neighbors and her friends complied to her wishes. When they meet up they speak only of a new book or the weather, never about the war and never about the disease.
Mother must not know about the drafting age being lowered, she mustn't know. I have to keep it a secret.
All of my friends enlisted. They lied about their age of course, I was about to do the same, enlist and write down 21—I could pull it off, I was tall enough and mature enough to appear and act 21—until I realized that my mother needed me more than ever. She lost her husband to a disease and losing her only son would only make her more miserable. I couldn't leave, not just yet.
When I arrived to front of my home, our neighbor, Ambrose Gabriels, greeted me. He was a very religious man and very wise. He understood that my mother did not like bad news.
"Edward! How are you today son?" He asked. I could tell on the look of his face that he knew I have discovered the new drafting age.
I gave him a smile. "Very well Mr. Gabriels. Do you have any news today sir? How's your wife? Is she feeling any better?" His wife was sick. It appeared to be a minor cold, but she was pregnant with his child. It may end up being fatal for them both if Mrs. Gabriels does not get better soon.
"She is well. Her condition hasn't changed but she is herself. She has been asking about you actually. She is wondering if you have found yourself a wife yet." He laughed. He wanted to stay away from the subject of his wife. I could tell that her condition was not the same. It had gotten worse. He does not want to worry my mother or me, but still I knew.
I laughed with him.
"No Mr. Gabriels. I am not looking for a wife currently. I have other things on my mind than marriage."
"Ah yes the war. That is what's occupying your mind is it not? I am sure you have seen the paper today, 18 now. Aren't you that age yet?" I wish I was 18.
"I am close to 18. Ten more months and I would be a soldier fighting in Europe." The thought brought a bigger smile to my face. I can picture myself in the glory of war, fighting for my country.
"Your mother doesn't seem to like that idea as much as you do."
"No. She despises the war. She thinks it is dreadful." My smile was slowly fading. She repeated this every night at grace. How can I not know what she thought of this war?
"Well let us not tell her. What she does not know will not hurt her, correct?" He just wanted to appease me. He more or less agreed with my mother on the subject. He lost a nephew during a battle, something to deal with a mustard gas in the trenches. He doesn't want to lose someone he knows the same way.
"I was not planning on telling her. At least there is one person helping me keep my mother's sanity." I laughed. My mother put so much stress about the war when my father was still with us. She was terrified that I would go and die. My father believed it would be over before I would be old enough to be drafted. He hugged my mother and kissed her on the head telling her there is nothing to be worried about.
"Well son, you should go inside before your mother starts to wonder where you have been. Just try not to get too excited about the age change. You may never know, maybe some girl out there will hold your heart and convince you to stay with her and your mother. It is a possibility" Me in love, ha. It is hard to imagine it, giving my whole heart and soul to one person. It is very possible, but I do not believe love will come to me soon. And even if I do, I doubt it will be strong enough to hold me back from war.
"We will see what will happen with that Mr. Gabriels. I will let you know the moment I fall in love with a girl." I gave him a smile. Everyone thinks that some sort of higher power will stop me from entering this war. Nothing will stop me from helping my country in the time of need. I am determined to go and I am determined to return. I will not die so easily.
I entered my home. Mother just finished cooking dinner. It smelled like mashed potatoes with pork. I didn't realize I was so hungry before.
I went into the kitchen and kissed my mother on the cheek. I put away the milk and bread.
"So my son returned. I thought you snuck off to meet with one of your mischievous friends and cause some trouble." She smiled at me and teased me. My friends always caused mischief; I was the "good boy" according to them. My priorities were just a bit different from theirs. I know they didn't really believe all of that. They admired that I can go against the grain, against what the rest of them were doing. The never spoke it but I could tell, it was like they were speaking it out loud. I knew they were thinking that I could be a great soldier one day.
"I am sorry mother. Mr. Gabriels and I were speaking before I entered."
"Of what were you speaking of? Was it an interesting conversation?" She asked. She was curious of course. Mr. Gabriels does not come out as often as usual since his wife and unborn child are sick.
"It was not that interesting mother. We just talked about women and marriage." I gave her a teasing look. She knew that I wasn't looking for love but everyone else was looking for me.
"Ah yes. So did he prepare a meeting with his sister's husband's niece?" She gave me back that teasing look
"Surprisingly no. He just said someone is out there for me. I find it hard to believe." She walked over to me and put her hands on my face.
"Do not worry son. There is someone for you. Even if you have to wait one hundred years to find her, you will find her." She kissed my forehead. "But of course if it takes you one hundred years then you mustn't be picky. But I do want to be there for the wedding of course." I had to laugh.
"I am sure one hundred years from now I would be married and you would not have to worry any more about your son finding love." She laughed and went to put the table together for dinner.
"What else am I supposed to do but worry about my only child?" She continued to put the table together with a smile. I am glad she hasn't found out about the drafting age, my mother seems happier now for some reason. I would not want to take that away from her and have more unnecessary worry about her only son. Before we ate, mother said grace but this time she did not mention the war, she just hoped that I would find that one person who could hold me down. Perhaps she was referring to the war. I'm not sure.
After dinner I helped mother clean up the room and clean the dishes. When we finished she went upstairs to sleep for the night. She kissed me on my cheek and told me goodnight. I went upstairs to my room as well and got ready for bed. I turned off the lamp in my room and fell asleep.
I had the strangest dream that night. I didn't remember much of it but what I remembered was that it was unpleasant and very warm, very hot actually. It also involved a war, not the one being fought in Europe at this moment but an internal one, one that I was losing. I also had the feeling my mother was fighting it as well, but she lost. What I remembered the most was the rising sun. The sun was amber in color. It seemed to have its own persona. It was kind and warm, but it was the cause of the extreme heat. That was the last thing I remembered from the dream.