War of Change

Michael stood triumphantly upon the turret, proudly surveying the scene unfolding before him. Yet again he had led his men to victory; yet again the white flag of the enemy had been raised. He and his men were heroes, each and every one. The battlefield was conquered. Michael let out a primeval roar that started low in his guts and resonated throughout his entire body.1

Jeannie, sat below him, tutted with annoyance. 2

“Do you have to keep making that ridiculous noise? Anyone would think you had just won the war.” She scoffed, a frown deepening across her forehead. She gave him one last condescending look before turning back to her book. Lizzie, who sat beside Jeannie, gave Michael a sympathetic smile. 3

Squiggy was on all fours, several metres away from the others, stalking an unfortunate beetle. The dry sun-scorched mud sunk underneath his fingernails as he prowled across his imaginary savannah. 4

Michael jumped down from the knee-high dilapidated wall onto the compact, dusty earth below. He was bored and frustrated. Kicking a stone toward Squiggy, Michael approached him, getting on his hands and knees to replicate his friend. Squiggy looked up with a grin, raised himself on his haunches and sprinted in the opposite direction. Michael considered giving chase, but instead landed with a thump on his front, staring intently at the terrified beetle Squiggy had abandoned. 5

* * *6

No letter had arrived. Michael had been expecting a letter by now; it already seemed so long ago since the previous one. Arthur had been fighting for a year, and Michael held his older brother in high esteem. Often Arthur’s letters would get held up, arriving weeks if not months after they had been written. But Michael was impatient to read the next one. 7

He couldn’t wait to be old enough to go and fight. Even if the war had finished by then, he’d still sign up to the army the day he was old enough. Each letter fuelled Michael’s passion to be a soldier. His brother was a hero and Michael longed to one day fight alongside him.8

* * *9

Jeannie shut her book and slammed it on the ground beside her. Dusting off the back of her dress with her hands, she stood over Lizzie, arms crossed and exhaling a deep sigh. The little girl looked up slowly and methodically, giving Jeannie an expression of maternal patience.10

It amused Michael to watch the two sisters and their unusual relationship. Lizzie, at just eight years old, was like a mother hen to her fourteen year old sister. Jeannie, who either didn’t care about or even notice Lizzie’s adoration, was of a difficult age: hormonal, head-strong and desperate to become a woman. Lizzie still embodied childhood innocence and purity, but was also wise for her age.11

The two sisters shared a mother, but Jeannie’s father had died when she was three, and their mother later remarried and bore Lizzie. Having become used to being an only child, Jeannie grew up with a tendency for strops and selfishness. Lizzie displayed none of the same character traits. 12

Jeannie was anxious to experience glitz and glamour; to become like the ‘Hollywood Starlets’ she’d seen starring in films at the local theatre. Jeannie would save up her pocket money so she could go to the pictures as often as possible. But with the effects of the war, even that luxury was becoming too expensive. Rationing had also halted another of Jeannie’s favourite past-times: make-up. No longer could she borrow her mother’s powder puffs and lipstick; mother had now locked them away for very special occasions.13

Jeannie often felt bereft by the war and all its restrictions. However, there was one benefit of the war that gave Jeannie goose-bumps of pleasure. The Americans had just joined the allies and were busy stationing soldiers throughout the country. Rumours abound that a troop were to be based in the very next village. For this reason alone Jeannie hoped the war wouldn’t end anytime soon. 14

There was just two years to wait until Jeannie could marry. Fantasies filled her overactive mind: being whisked off her feet by an American soldier, with a grin reminiscent of Cary Grant, before heading off together to America where she would become a beloved actress. This had become her all-consuming ambition, and yet the frustration of normal life plagued at her constantly.15

Looking down at Lizzie, Jeannie sighed again. 16

“It’s time to go. You know mother would scold me if I dare come home without you.” She put on her most pained expression, to illustrate just how much of a chore having a younger sister was. Lizzie got to her feet, with no complaint, and obediently followed her away from the boys after a brief and rather perfunctory goodbye. 17

Jeannie hated having to play out with the younger children, but really had very little choice. Her school friends all lived in different villages and towns, and with the war there seemed even less opportunity to socialise. Parent’s simply didn’t encourage their children to spend much time outdoors; with the constant threat of an air-raid hanging over them. Jeannie and Lizzie were kept to a strict curfew, with Jeannie in charge of her younger sibling. She enjoyed the responsibility, whilst at the same time wishing she could break free of the monotony of curfews and routine.18

Lizzie watched her sister’s expression, as Jeannie battled against her brooding thoughts. Lizzie was amazed by her sister’s beauty, one of the few things they had in common, but couldn’t understand why she had to spoil it with such an ugly frown. Lizzie enjoyed the simple pleasures in life, and knew her sister aimed a lot higher. Jeannie would never be content with a humble life in the countryside; she aspired to fame and fortune and an escape from small town living. Lizzie knew all this, and felt mixed by a sense of pride by her sister’s ambition and concern for her discontent at anything normal. Lizzie discerned that Jeannie would never be truly happy, not even if she achieved all she hoped for. 19

* * *20

The two boys spent another hour chasing various insects around the common, before heading home themselves. Squiggy, his real name Edward, was a high-spirited boy, who lived alone with his mother. His father was fighting abroad, and Michael loved hearing stories from Squiggy regarding his father’s latest escapades.21

“His last letter said they advanced even further… He said the troops are really upbeat, looking forward to Christmas of course… And a bomb went off this close to his head!” Squiggy would disclose, with increasingly enthusiastic tones. 22

This was the main reason Michael enjoyed spending time with his friend, and yet today was different. Michael knew Arthur wasn’t always able to write regularly, but Michael still felt down and disappointed each morning there was no news.23

As he reached his front door, having said goodbye to Squiggy just a few houses down, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Would a letter have arrived this morning, whilst he was out playing, or would his mother be sat at the kitchen table in tears again? Michael pushed open the heavy front door, and sneaked his head around, eyes fixed in the direction of the kitchen. 24

The table was empty and he could hear a happy whistling from the larder. As his heart leapt into his throat, feeling both trepidation and joy, Michael tore down the hallway to where his mother was stocking up their weekly rations. She gave him a big smile and nodded towards the dresser, where a piece of paper lay. He hugged her in excitement and ran over to read the long awaited letter.25

* * *26

It was five days before the children were able to meet again. There had been another air-raid two nights before and several streets down had been hit. A friend of Michael and Squiggy had lost his mother and younger sister in the raid; their home damaged by a bomb. Squiggy’s mother seemed particularly upset by the latest tragedies, and Squiggy explained the conversation he’d overhead the night before.27

“She was talking to our next door neighbour, saying how scared she is for my safety. She couldn’t stop crying for the lad; she said if it wasn’t so dangerous here she’d offer to adopt him. I’ve never seen her so upset before, not even when father went off to fight.” Squiggy sat with his legs crossed and a sad expression on his face. 28

Lizzie put an arm through his and smiled gently. Jeannie looked concerned; worry danced across her eyes as she uncharacteristically dug her perfect nails into the dirt beneath her. She had felt extremely anxious after the recent air-raid. She didn’t want to die or any of her family for that matter. She felt that turning sixteen couldn’t come quickly enough, when she could finally escape this wretched war. Michael gave a futile attempt to cheer the others up, telling jokes and singing silly rhymes, but the mood that day remained sullen.29

* * *30

Another two weeks passed with the children unable to meet. A second air-raid had hit the week before, devastating an entire street and leaving the residents sheltering in the local church. Michael hadn’t seen Squiggy at all over the fortnight, but had caught a glimpse of Jeannie and Lizzie walking with their mother. Michael was desperate to see his friends once more, so was delighted to come across the two sisters at the common one morning.31

He threw his body down beside Jeannie who had her eyes closed and head turned toward the warm sun. Lizzie sat facing Jeannie, her eyes downcast, with her blonde hair falling forward over her face.32

“What’s the matter Lizzie?” Michael asked with a feeling of brotherly tenderness. He cared a great deal for Lizzie; unlike Jeannie, she was gentle and sweet and always thought of others before herself. Lizzie lifted her small face to meet Michael’s gaze. Her cheeks were tearstained and her lips were trembling.33

“Have you not heard?” She whispered, her voice choking on her words. Michael shook his head, bemused and concerned by Lizzie’s uncharacteristic display. He had never seen her so upset before, and couldn’t imagine the reasoning behind it.34

“Squiggy…” She started, but stumbled on her words in an attempt to stifle a sob. “He’s…been…He’s been sent away, Michael. His mother was scared for his safety after the air-raids, and sent him to live with his Aunt hundreds of miles away! He didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to us. We heard this morning, when our mother overhead the news from our neighbour. I can’t believe poor Squiggy has been sent away, it’s so awful.” Lizzie burst into tears and hid her face behind her hands.35

Jeannie looked across at Lizzie, her expression a mixture of sympathy and resignation. Michael sat, stunned by the news. For so long the war had seemed distant, something he’d only read about in his brother’s letters. Now the war was affecting their every day lives. Things were changing.36

* * *37

Jeannie sat at the bay window, watching the perfectly clear, aqua-marine sky above her. Summer had been long, dry and suffocating; the hot breezeless days hazing into another. She had at first been pleased by the respite; sitting indoors reading and playing games, away from the stifling temperatures outside. Of course the house had been warm too, but with all the windows and doors open and with the added benefit of constant shade, being inside had its pleasures. But now three days had passed, and Jeannie was starting to feel smothered. She longed to run through the cornfield once more, to sit under a shaded tree with a good book over on the common. 38

Mother and Father were nervous after the air-raids, she understood that of course. But this summer would soon disappear, and as so much was changing Jeannie was desperate to enjoy the season while it lasted. Squiggy had been gone for over a week now, and all the children were feeling acutely aware of his absence. Jeannie couldn’t help but wonder what was going to change next. Already her dream of being whisked away by a glamorous American soldier was fading as quickly as it was created. With the war, nothing seemed certain anymore.39

* * *40

Another letter had arrived, shorter than the previous. Michael re-read it for the seventh time before allowing it to gently flutter to the table surface. He sat with his chin resting in his palm, elbows on the table. He was bored. He hadn’t seen his friends again for days and the short, rather abrupt letter from Arthur was simply not long enough to hold Michael’s attention. 41

He got up slowly, scraping his chair across the dull green linoleum floor. He flung open the back door and entered the generous sized garden, stamping his feet in frustration. Yet again, the garden was his only companion, and he spent a bitter sweet morning commanding his imaginary troops to battle. 42

He didn’t hear the knock on the door. Or the two men dressed in official uniform, standing in the entrance hall, talking in lowered tones to his mother. He only heard her agonized wailing that pierced its way through the thick walls of the house. 43

* * *44

The news spread fast. Jeannie and Lizzie heard just two days later; via a well-informed, rather nosey neighbour who was good friends with their mother. They had wanted to visit Michael, but were not allowed as his family were mourning. Arthur was just twenty years old, and had only been fighting for a year. The girls were not to know that his last letter had arrived just two days before he was killed in action. 45

* * *46

Michael stood upon his turret, but no victorious scene was before him. His men hadn’t won another battle, and no primeval roar wished to part his lips. Instead, a deep heaviness within threatened to burst forth, and Michael fiercely forced back the tears which clouded his vision. 47

The sun was already beginning to fade around him, and yet he had no desire to return home in honour of his curfew. My parent’s wouldn’t notice if I didn’t return, he thought bitterly. Almost immediately he felt ashamed of his selfishness and sank down off the wall onto the cold hard mud below. 48

His mother hadn’t stopped crying since the news, and his father had withdrawn into silence. The house itself was like a graveyard; deathly quiet and forlorn. He couldn’t bear being there another moment, and had spent the entire day at the 49

common,even forgoing food and water. 50

He sat still for a long time, watching the sun vanish from view. The darkness seemed to swallow each shape and shadow around him, finally clinging claustrophobically to his very skin. After a while he heard footsteps approaching, and he stiffened his body ready for an attack. But no attack came. Instead, a small voice rang out into the cooling summer air. Lizzie stepped closer as his frame slowly became visible in the light of the moon.51

He wanted to tell her to go home. He knew she shouldn’t be out once darkness had descended. But he didn’t the energy to even mutter a word, so sat slumped against the wall as she sat down next to him. 52

Lizzie paused as she looked into his sorrowful eyes. Even in the dark she could see they were red and tired. She wished she had a word of comfort, but in her premature wisdom she also knew nothing she said would help. She simply put her head on his shoulder, her arm across his torso and held him tight.53

Michael, stunned by this humble gesture, leaned into Lizzie’s embrace. His eyes started to water, but this time he didn’t force the tears back. The heaviness was released in that moment; days of pent up sorrow and anguish. Emotions that an eleven year old shouldn’t have to experience were washed and cleansed as his tears fell. 54

* * *55

“I can’t believe you are doing this to us!” Screamed Jeannie from across the hallway. Lizzie held her small hands over her ears as delicate tears slipped down her cheeks. Another air-raid had sealed their fate.56

“I won’t go away, I won’t! I’m fourteen; practically an adult and you expect me to be sent away like some child who can’t look after herself? I won’t go, I’m staying here!” Jeannie yelled, with increasingly exasperation.57

“You will do as you’re told, young lady!” Came the thunderous reply from Lizzie’s father.58

“You can’t dictate to me. You’re not even my real father. If my father was alive he’d never send me away from him, never!” spat Jeannie. 59

The furious roar Jeannie earned in reply sent her running for her bedroom and caused Lizzie to sob uncontrollably. Lizzie couldn’t believe how much had changed in such a short space of time. Barely weeks after Michael had received the news about his brother’s untimely and yet heroic death, Lizzie and Jeannie faced the news of their impending evacuation. Children from all over the small country town were due to be sent away in the coming weeks. Michael didn’t know of his future; his mother still grieving for one son was reluctant to send away her other. 60

The children met at the common for one last time. The day was clear and bright, with a hint of autumn in the cool air. Grass was returning to the formerly sun-baked ground, and leaves were slowly turning golden on the trees around them. 61

Jeannie sat in silence, an air of resignation across her stunning features. She was fast becoming a woman, and yet still had so little freedom. Her dream to marry an American soldier, for the time being, was put on hold. For the first time in her life her priority was Lizzie. They would be evacuated together, and at just eight years old Lizzie would need her older sister’s strength to pull through the uncertainty ahead. 62

Michael smiled at the two girls he had come to know and love as sisters. He would miss them almost as much as he missed his brother Arthur and best friend Squiggy. And yet Michael believed that some day the four good friends would sit upon this common once more. Older, wiser, and with a few anecdotes and stories to tell, he knew that whatever changes occurred, their friendship would somehow survive the horrors of war. 63