The Way Back Home

Chapter Eleven: Let Me Call You Sweetheart

CHAPTER SONG: "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" (1911) by The Peerless Quartet & Henry Burr

*Song composed by Leo Friedman and lyrics by Beth Slater Whitson, copyrighted April 1910.

April 7th, 1917

Dear Mrs. Blake,

This letter is being written with the blessing of your eldest, Joseph. It's with the deepest of sympathies that I feel to inform you of the departure of your son Thomas. There is no explanation my mind can conjure up that describes how much I miss his presence, so full of optimism and dreams of the future.

I will spare you the details of what happened; only that it was in the heat of combat, quick and painless to where he felt nothing at all when he left this world. I was placed in the position of being by his side when he died, to assure him that he wouldn't be alone. He was brave and selfless to the very end, eager to do the right thing and determined to keep his empathy as a human being.

Even though my knowing of him was brief in the span of our deployment together, we got on immediately from the moment he first made me laugh. He was always looking to cheer up the boys in our darkest and hopeless of moments. And from how he spoke of you, I could see that he loved you and Joseph. I guarantee that you were the last person on his mind before he went to a much better place than this purgatory that remains of the French countryside.

He is watching over us now and he would want you to remember him at his best. Please don't hesitate in responding to this letter should you desire to reach out and ask what I can do to aid your family in this beyond difficult time. I am at your humble service.

My most sincere condolences,

Lance Corporal William Schofield

8th Battalion of the Devonshire Regiment

Schofield read over the ink inscribed words in front of him on the fresh paper. Smears of his fingertips were coated along the edges, but he wanted to make sure this letter would be acceptable in sending to Blake's mother.

His stomach mercifully had ceased growling after having acquired whatever food he could grab from the mess tent for himself and Emmanuelle, making certain she had a fuller meal.

His tin bowl of porridge with a biscuit and cup of coffee mixed with a drop of rum, suggested by Lt. Blake, sat at his feet, each morsel eaten fully as they lay on the grass. The chair he was sitting in positioned by Emmy's bedside as she finished her meal, Schofield glancing every now and then to see she ate every bite.

No food could go to waste in wartime and he had deduced some time ago that she had gone longer than he without eating.

She had finished her porridge and slice of ham, leaving Schofield relieved that she was gaining nutrients in her body. He regrettably hadn't been able to find any chocolate delicacies for her to treat herself with as she had teasingly requested.

His eyes ended up focused for one long second on a trail of tea dripping down her chin and then to her bruised throat as she drank the rest of the liquid in her cup. She wiped it away with the napkin he had provided her with before his mind could go to a more ungentlemanly path of thought.

"That was delicious, Will." She placed her dishes at the foot of the makeshift bed. "I feel much more energized now."

Pulling the blanket off of her legs, she swung them over the edge of the bed so her feet could touch the ground, a slight cough escaping from her mouth. Schofield looked in her direction, tearing his eyes away from the letter he was focused on again momentarily.