Patricia Anthony - Flanders

MARCH 2, OFF THE COAST OF ENGLAND

Dear Bobby,

It grieved me to leave you, considering how mad you were. Its just that I am not cut out to be a homebody. Ma knows that. Dont you recall her saying as how she had to tether me to the porch to keep me from straying? Well, Im past my toddler days and the neighborhoods bigger, and war or no, I could not pass up a trip to Europe. Besides, the hostilities will be over by fall.

Make me two promises: First, take care of Ma and watch her close. If shes feeling poorly, she will never give you a hint of it. Second, dont let Pa come on the place. I know you dont recall him well, but he has the disposition of a junkmans dog. And mind that he doesnt come courting Ma. I suspect she harbors a weakness for him that may override her Christian virtues.

Dont fret for my sake, either. When this is over, Ill settle down, finish my studies, and spend the rest of my life doctoring lumbago. Still, come to find I sorely needed a vacation. Maybe when I get back stateside I wont mind those tight-assed Harvard Congregationalists.

But I miss my English literature classes, especially as I am within sight of Shakespeares sceptered isle. It galls not being able to step foot where Keats walked. Id like to see one of Wordsworths daffodils. I feel an awful longing to hear a nightingale. Tomorrow I sail the channel to France and, like as not, Ill spend that trip as I did from New York to herewith my head over the rail, bestowing a free lunch on the fishes.

Didnt see any submarines on the way. In that, I was luckier than those poor souls on the Lusitania who probably never realized they were dying as an example of bastardly German gutlessness.

Kiss Ma and tell her not to worry. Assure her General Woods battle lessons will come in handy. Remind her that I graduated at the top of my class, way over all those Yankee boys who cannot shoot straight and who complain mercilessly when they are made to shit in the woods. The general always did say that he perceived in me the lan for battle, and in a real mans war, spirit is all that is needed to win.

P.S. I knew it, for folks had told me; but I hardly believed until I saw for myselfthe cliffs of Dover really are white. Yesterday I stood at the rail in the pouring rain until long after we had left them behind. How can I begin to tell you about Dover? Its a chalk line God drew to separate gray from green, breakers from earth. Seeing it, I dont know why William the Conqueror didnt just put down his sword and take England captive with his eyes.

* * *

MARCH 18, FRANCE, REST AREA

Dear Bobby,

The postman finally caught up with me, and it was no childs play to find me, either, since my location has moved about. The Brits put me first in one battalion and then in another when they saw how well I could shoot.

Good God, Yank, Captain Hodgeson said to me the other day at target practice. Do you realize that out of five bullets, you have shot five perfect bulls-eyes?

I speak fluent Texan around the limeys as they enjoy it so, and are not hurtful with their joshing like the Yankee boys. Anyway, I scratched my head like I was puzzled and said, Did I ruin that target, sir?

Captain Hodgeson then called up Major Woodhouse to see, and both officers asked me to fire once more, which I proceeded to do. Now it appears that, after a semester of introductory grenade tossing and an advanced course in trench-digging, I am to be a sharpshooter.

Where did you learn to shoot like that, Private? the major asked.

I told him, Plinking squirrels for Mas varmint stew, which delighted the two of them so that they had me repeat the phrase again and again for a succession of other officers. But my own jest was my downfall, for it caused me to ruminate upon those times before Ma started raising those fancy goats of hers. I was somber for the remainder of the day. You do not recall how strapped Ma and I were after Pa left us; how we lived off grits and yard greens and possum, like poor coloreds. Still, now I am filled with a sense of superiority. The English may have seen war, but I have lived with Pa, so I have seen Hell. Therefore I will always be hardier than they, and if that was all the inheritance that drunken bastard will give me, I suppose forcing me to become a man is enough.

Anyway, it is always good to hear laughter, no matter if the source of it is sorrow.

I cannot tell you where I am, but suffice it to say that it is a pleasant and verdant place in France. Here green has no overtones, not like in Texas where dry is always pushing through. Nailing Frances grass to its brown earth are massive chestnut trees and elms as stately as Gothic cathedrals. Oh Lord, Bobby, the flowersall colors, and everywhere you look. Europe has such a tender and civilized countryside.

* * *

MARCH 21, FRANCE, REST AREA

Dear Bobby,

You must not tell Ma, for it would send her entire praying circle to their knees, but the Tommies took me into town and got me knee-walking drunk.

At some point that night I found out that they dont like being called limeys, and I informed them of my personal objection to Yank. After another few tots of French brandy I went to echoing some of the more choice selections of their speech like: Not by arf and Gotcher mouf on yer, aint yer? I tell you, they may have invented it, and it might even be named after them, but their language doesnt bear much resemblance to English. After a few minutes of my aping them, a private from Lancaster started shouting, Oos iff it, Yank? Oos iff it? or something like, which I immediately parroted. He began a pushing sort of fight. I beat a retreat and went outside to find an outhouse. There I searched and searched, and the more I looked, the more urgency I suffered. In desperation, I crept around the side of the inn and unfastened my pants. I was joined by a drunken French private who spoke no better English than the Tommies, but who parley-voued well enough in gestures to let me know that he was of the opinion that he could piss farther than I. Little did he know that I was not only possessed of a sorely laden bladder, but I was a sharpshooter besides.

Give it your best shot, I said.

He let loose at an innocent bystander duck who took cheerfully to the shower. The striped cat that I chose was not so sanguine. I laughed so, I fell into a nearby ditch. I was told that the Frenchman attempted to get me out; but since I was unwilling and he too was drunk, he walked off and left me, forgetting to inform my sergeant where I was. There I lay until my mates stumbled upon me the next morning. The officers had assumed that I had deserted, and it was a trial explaining my hardshell Baptist upbringing. I told them, Dont yall get me to dancing, then, for I aint used to that, neither; and God only knows what Id do.

They would have put me in the clink had they not found me such a caution. Had I not been such a dead-on shot. The sad thing is, last night I came to find out what lures Pa to the bottle, and I wonder if I shall discover in myself the same gloomy thirst. Promise me, Bobby, to stay away from liquor, as it gives a short-lived sort of glee, and you dont remember the best parts.