| Author: | C. G. Walker | ISBN: | 9781640089716 |
| Publisher: | C. G. Walker | Publication: | May 6, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | C. G. Walker |
| ISBN: | 9781640089716 |
| Publisher: | C. G. Walker |
| Publication: | May 6, 2017 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
Hanging his head, Earl used his pocket knife to open the letter. The first line proclaimed his fate, “Order to Report for Induction”. The letter went on to advise that the President of the United States of America had chosen him to report for military service at the Greyhound bus terminal in Huntington, Mercer County West Virginia, at 0700 hours on the 6th of November 1942.
There it was. After another hard week of work down in the damnable coal mines in Southern West Virginia, he would be leaving it all behind. Everything. He didn’t even notice the yellow letter slipping from his hand as he turned pushing through the screen door onto the front porch.
Fingers intertwined with his left hand. His wedding ring rotated around his finger, as it caught between her thumb and forefinger. He didn’t want to look at her. He knew he would break down.
The scent of her sweet perfume floated over him as her fingers squeezed his, and her other hand gripped his upper arm as she pulled him closer. He had forgotten that his clothes were still soiled from the mines. The mixture of coal dust and her scent was something he knew he would never forget, no matter where the war took him.
“I don’t want to go,” the words barely above a whisper.
As a courtesy of the United States Army, over the next three years Earl would go to places and see things unimaginable to him at the time. This humble man was about to be forcefully thrust into the greatest armed conflict that ever been waged on the earth.
Hanging his head, Earl used his pocket knife to open the letter. The first line proclaimed his fate, “Order to Report for Induction”. The letter went on to advise that the President of the United States of America had chosen him to report for military service at the Greyhound bus terminal in Huntington, Mercer County West Virginia, at 0700 hours on the 6th of November 1942.
There it was. After another hard week of work down in the damnable coal mines in Southern West Virginia, he would be leaving it all behind. Everything. He didn’t even notice the yellow letter slipping from his hand as he turned pushing through the screen door onto the front porch.
Fingers intertwined with his left hand. His wedding ring rotated around his finger, as it caught between her thumb and forefinger. He didn’t want to look at her. He knew he would break down.
The scent of her sweet perfume floated over him as her fingers squeezed his, and her other hand gripped his upper arm as she pulled him closer. He had forgotten that his clothes were still soiled from the mines. The mixture of coal dust and her scent was something he knew he would never forget, no matter where the war took him.
“I don’t want to go,” the words barely above a whisper.
As a courtesy of the United States Army, over the next three years Earl would go to places and see things unimaginable to him at the time. This humble man was about to be forcefully thrust into the greatest armed conflict that ever been waged on the earth.
