Week 3 Storytelling: Dearest Sarah

Infantryman by Henry Ellis Townsend 

     Dearest Sarah,
          
          I write with the anticipation I may see you soon--though surely not soon enough. Each day here it is cold, and wet, and where I am not soaked to the bone, I am covered in mud. It's tiresome, this rain, and the war, though I'm told we've only survived barely half of the rains, and even less of the fighting. I am more concerned with the strength of our men to survive this rainy trial than I am worried about the enemy. 

     Most of all, my concern is for you. It feels as if you've been taken from me, kidnapped by some wretched demon who thrives on our separation, and yet I know this is not true. It's I who have been taken from you, by the monster we fight each day. I send my steadfast love, and dream only-

"What's this? Writing letters again?"

Remy was jerked out of his letter by a close comrade's words, Lawrence. Rather, the letter was jerked from Remy, as Lawrence snatched it and made to read what Remy had been writing.

"Give it- stop- that's not yours to read!" Remy grasped for the letter, finally tearing it from Lawrence's hands. Smoothing it out, in a smaller voice, Remy followed, "it's private, and I'd ask you to stop interrupting me while I'm writing her. "

Lawrence smiled. His smile was easy, a bit crooked, and could warm an entire room. The man himself was strongly built, taller than Remy by several inches, though a touch younger. "I'm only teasing, you know. Someone has to do something to liven the atmosphere around here."

Remy knew in his heart Lawrence was right. Remy had been in a mood for days, and frankly, the rest of the troops had as well. They had been stuck in the trenches for weeks. When they weren't fighting the enemy, it was certain to be raining, and when it wasn't raining, they were fighting.

"Well lighten up elsewhere, if you please. I'm busy." Remy shot back his reply, surprised to hear his own words so sharp against someone he was so close to.

Lawrence and Remy were almost brothers, and often joked to be as much. In fact they were extremely similar in personality and look, but no familial ties bound them together. The ties they had formed were much stronger, weaved in the trenches during their first days together, and were brotherly of another nature, if that nature was being threatened within an inch of life on the daily.

Hearing Remy's reply, Lawrence was a bit deflated, but changed tactics nonetheless. "Remy, do you know what happens after the rain?"

Remy had been trying to pick up his train of thought in his letter, but Lawrence wasn't having any of it.

"Well, do you know?"

"Lawrence, I know what'll happen to you if you don't quit being a pest."

"Well, I know what happens after the rain. Most of the fellas here, they say that the rain is the cleansing part of the season. The rain comes and washes it all away, but the cleansing happens after you thaw out a bit."

Resigning, Remy nodded. "Sure. Just like mum washing clothes."

"Exactly," Lawrence affirmed. "Except the clothes aren't really clean until they're on the line and the afternoon sun dries them. That's the cleansing bit--peeking back out into the world and having the sun shine down on you."

Remy sighed. "Lawrence."

"I know. It's difficult for all of us."

"She's my wife. We only just married-"

"I know. You can't help her by dragging yourself further down in this mess. Keeping alive's what matters."

"I know."

"Finish your letter. I'll go pester the others for a while."

Remy gave a half smile, nodded once, started writing again.

...and dream only of you. You, my sun, my stars. I'm on my way, sweet Sarah, and I promise, I'll come back whole.

Yours,
Remy

*****

Author's Note:

     I've more or less decided I'm going to pair each story with a song, and so this week, my story was partially inspired and mostly written to Glenn Miller's Moonlight Serenade. I really liked the sweet moment between Lakshmana and Rama during the rainy season in the forest, where Rama is particularly plagued by his demons, and Lakshmana helps him out of it. Sometimes, it doesn't take a great act to turn someone's day, week, or month around. It's the small things that count, and I really wanted to spend time on that moment. I changed the names to make them sound a little more WWI authentic, but the characters and who they relate to should be fairly obvious.

I chose to reset the story during World War One because there needed to be something to take Rama away from Sita, and to have a brotherly bond between the two men. I had been thinking of the Christmas Truce earlier in the day, and how on Christmas Day German and English soldiers called an unofficial truce between themselves and spent the day playing football and singing carols. Usually for my stories I get inspired by something happening or thinking about something earlier in the week or the day, and want to use that as a basis for what I'll write.

Narayan, R. K. The Ramayana. New Delhi: Vision, 1987. Print.