Jack, the hero and stand-in telegram boy. Age: eleven. Year: 1918.
How part of Jack's world looks.
“Jack,” dad began slowly.
“You’ve been drafted,” I blurted out before he could continue.
His eyes were so sad, but he nodded. “Yes. I’m shipping out next week to France.”
My throat felt all choked up, and I couldn’t think of what to say. My eyes wanted to cry, but I kept my face as calm as possible. Be a soldier. “I.... you’ll be fighting for our country, dad. I’m proud of you.” That was all I could think of to say, and I wasn't very sure I meant it.
Dad looked at me closely. “My boss will need someone to take my job while I'm gone. What do you think?”
For a second, panic and revulsion flooded me. Take dad’s job? Take the job I hated, the job that caused so much sorrow to my best friend? For a moment I felt like refusing. Then I set my jaw. “I’ll do it, dad. Until you get home.” Please come home. Oh please come home. ~We Regret to Inform You...