Dear Soldier,
Thank you so much for keeping us safe! Every night we send a box to soldiers and knit them little socks and bake them yummy biscuits! Sometimes, if we have enough, we send hot chocolate for you to drink! We hope you come back safe,
-Maggy, Sara, and Joan Lemmings of the Little England Girls Association.
I sit down and cry. I am like a water fountain, sprouting water in all directions. I look inside the box. There’s a pair of fluffy, knitted socks. I touch them. They feel so nice. There was also a small tin with 3 to 4 biscuits. There’s a small can, filled with a powder that I assume is cocoa powder to make hot chocolate. There is also a tiny box wrapped with ribbon. I open it up, and to my surprise, there is a photograph.
The colour was running and it was slightly torn. In the picture, there are three young girls, around ten years old. One is short and has glasses, with a yellow ribbon in her brown hair. The other two are tall and slender. The girl on the left has short blonde hair, whilst the girl on the right has long red hair. They’re all standing in front of the Little England Girl Association logo with their arms around each other. Large grins covered their faces. I smile and tuck it neatly in the box to come back to later.
I walk over to the hospital tent.
“Excuse me?” I say, peaking my head in.
A nurse that I don’t recognise appears, she has long golden hair and she looks like she’s in her early 20s. She doesn’t have a kind smile like Samantha, it’s strained and tired.
“What can I do for you?” She asked.
She has heavy bags under her emerald eyes. Her eyes have a tint of red and her face is pale and thin.
“I’m just wondering if I could deliver a present for somebody in the wards, somebody with no family,”
The question made her eyes light up and a genuine smile appeared on her face.
“Of course, come with me,” She smiles.
On the way to my destination, I see Samantha, smiling at a soldier with a wounded arm. We pass by four or five beds before we reach a man. He’s older than most of the soldiers, with a grey beard and frosty white hair. His eyes are brown and shining with content. He seems to have a bullet wound through his left leg, because of all the bandages covering it. He reminds me of Santa Claus. With his jolly attitude and smile.
“I’ll leave you to it,” The nurse smiles and walks away.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hello, why have you come to visit me?” He asks happily.
“I got a package from the little England girls association and I decided to bring something for you,” I say holding out the box.
He takes the box carefully and he reads the outside, looking at all of the heart squiggles like I did. His smile expands. He gently pulls off the lid, revealing all of the treasures. He picks up the picture of the young girls and his eyes glisten with tears.
“Thank you,”
There are now tears running down his cheeks slowly hitting the ground.
“I’ll see you when I’m out. Your name is….?” He asks.
“Laro,” I reply.
“My name is Donald, nice to meet you,”
He hands me the box, keeping the photograph and a biscuit.
“Bye!” I smile and hurry away.
Today I made my hot chocolate and shared it amongst my friends. We smile and laugh together. Some of them share what little they have with me. I received a small mirror and a candle with a match. We chat for hours until the sun goes down and I'm now tired. I lay down and instantly fell asleep. The only thing I can see is the deep, black hole that is called unconsciousness.
I see her again. The girl with the pretty short hair and the beautiful blue eyes.
But something's off.
Her cheeks are red and stained with what seems like tears. Her hair is ruffled and messy and her clothes and hands are dirty and gross.
“Hello?” I whisper, barely audible.
She looks up with her hands over her eyes, and the dream changes.
The scene changes to a man, shooting his shotgun across to the other side, my side. He turns his head and starts talking to a friend, in German, and starts laughing. All of a sudden a bullet shoots through the air, quickly and smoothly. It keeps flying until it reaches the man's head. He tumbles to the ground and a cry escapes from somebody.
Then I realised what was happening.
This girl lost a friend… Just like me.
A tear falls from my cheek and Clara comes back into view. I walk over to her quietly, as she sobs into her hand. We are the same.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper and hold her hand.
Slowly I pull her up and she cries into my shoulder until her whimpers become inaudible.
“Thank you,” Her accent is crisper than I remember and her smile is kinder.
I smile at her and we hug. After what felt like hours we pulled apart.
“Want to meet tomorrow at your nursing tent, lunch?”
The question catches me off guard.
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