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Dear Mom and Dad,

So guess what?  We're finally done with basic training.  It's been a long road.  We're tired as hell, but we're a lot stronger and quicker than we were three months ago.  We're definitely not the same people, but trust us, the changes were only physical.  We're still the same sons you know and love.

But now that basic training is over, that means we have to move to advanced training.  This is the part we've been dreading telling you.

We have to sail to England.  Tomorrow.

We just found out earlier today, so it's a shock to us, too.  We tried asking if we could visit home first, but we're on a tight schedule.  They won't let us.  They're barely even letting us pack, so a home visit was definitely off the table.  So much for seeing us and meeting Frank before we get shipped off, huh?

We don't know when we'll get to come back.  If we even get to come back, anyway.  Advanced training is pretty intense from what we've heard, and once that's over, we're officially a part of the war.  There might not be a home visit for a while; that hurts to even think about.  We miss home more than you can probably imagine.

How's the neighborhood holding up?  Anything new happening?  It's the same thing everyday around here.  Wake up at sunrise, train all day, go to sleep, and repeat.  Now we're gonna be stuck on a boat for almost two weeks, sailing to some country we've never been to for even more training.  Here's hoping Mikey and I don't get too seasick.  That's the last thing we need right now.

We miss you guys.  A lot.  Mikey told me the other night that he's more homesick than he's ever been in his entire life, and he'd do anything just to sneak home for a few hours.  I told him I'd be right there with him.  Home is so close, yet it's so far, too.  It's been way too long since we've seen you guys.  It sucks, but there's nothing we can do about it.  Our drill sergeant will beat our asses if we don't get on that boat to England tomorrow, so write to us soon?

Wish us luck in England.  Lord knows we're gonna need it.

We love you to the moon and back.  Hope to see you soon.

Gerard and Mikey

*  *  *  *  *

It's a relief to have basic training behind us, but the moment I step on the massive warship taking us to England, I know that advanced training looms over us like a hungry monster.

The nightmare is only just beginning.

We leave at dawn on March 1, with nothing but the clothes on our backs.  Two other companies are with us, while the others travel on a separate ship.  Of course Delta Company has to be one of the companies that leaves almost instantly.  I heard Sierra Company doesn't have to leave until March 10.  Lucky bastards.  They have time to visit their families, so why don't we?

I can't complain, though.  There is no complaining in war, even though we may not completely be a part of it yet.  Sergeant Gioia won't hesitate to kick my ass off the boat and into the water if he hears me complaining.

Three hours into the trip and Pete has already spent most of it upchucking over the side of the ship.  The poor guy's as green as a Christmas tree.  I don't feel the best, either, but quite obviously, Pete has the worst of it.  Don't they have seasickness pills around here or something?

All in all, it doesn't take us very long to realize we absolutely hate traveling by ship.  Thank God we didn't get drafted into the Navy.

On the fourth morning of our journey, I trudge from our sleeping quarters up to the main deck, squinting at the bright sun and the sea salt spraying my face.  Don't get me wrong, the ocean is a beautiful place.  You can see the sun casting its glow over the whole horizon every time it rises and sets.  You can see just how bright and magnificent the stars are at night.  The only things you can hear are the waves lapping against the side of the ship and the occasional groaning of the ship's metal.  Everything is so clear and dazzling, but the only downside is that I'm not sure if I'll be able to walk once we reach land again.  Two weeks on a moving ship will do that to you.

The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|Where stories live. Discover now