Our Man at the Front

by Malvolia

A series of moments in the life of Felix and Izzy, from his enlistment in the Navy through his return as an Army veteran, including what happened to Elbert, why Felix showed up on King Farm with no notice, and where Izzy was all that time. COMPLETE

4. Letter from the HMS Niobe

Dear Izzy,

I'm writing to you from the deck of the HMS Niobe, and I wish I had Gus' flair for words to give you some idea of what it's like to be here. You've heard of the Niobe, of course. I think everybody in Canada has. I'm proud to be stationed on her, especially since it means that sometimes, like today, we pass by PEI and I can stand at the prow and wave at all of you. (Some of the others do the same when we're near Nova Scotia, or Newfoundland, or wherever on the east coast they happen to be from—you might be surprised at how sentimental we Navy men can be.)

It's hard to believe training is finally over. I'm glad we had that break between the end of training and the start of my duties on the Niobe. After all that work learning the names of all the parts of a ship, how to steer, how to operate the guns, how to fix things, and all that physical training, I needed a break and some familiar faces. I don't know how the recruits from the interior pulled through—some of those courses were tough enough even for me as a lifelong Islander.

Thanks for coming with all the Kings (and Pikes, I guess—still getting used to that after just a few months) to meet me at the dock when I came in. I didn't exactly expect to see you there, but I'd been hoping for it anyway. The picnic last Saturday was the highlight of my time back home. You make the best fried chicken on the Island (don't tell my mother).

The sun is setting behind the Island, and the first stars are showing up, and the lights on deck are being turned on. It'll be curfew soon, so I'll wrap this up. I know you said if I didn't have time for a longer letter I could hold off and write one over a few days, but I'd rather write you one every day. It feels more like we're still together then. When I get your letters, I only read them one at a time. I can tell you that takes a lot of willpower, but then I get to hear your voice every day, or as close as I can get out here. (See, I told you we Navy men were sentimental.)

I'm whispering "good night" as the Island fades out of view. I can only see the light from the lighthouse now. Miss you like always.

Your Friend,

Felix