Post by Stephen Colly on Dec 25, 2008 7:55:18 GMT
It was early morning; a whistling post man came down the long drive towards the Colly’s farm. It was an old farm that had been run by the same family for years, it held geese, cows, chickens, sheep, pigs, and horses, but only one horse remained, the other had gone off to the War. Rumours were in the village that the father, Mr Howard Colly had sold the horse to the army, that horse had been the pride and joy of the son, Stephen, and word had it that Stephen had gone off to the army to find his horse.
The post man came around the buildings to the old farmhouse, knocking on the door, a letter in his hand. An ageing woman, wearing a dirty old skirt and an apron, with a flowered shirt and tired looking eyes, opened the door to see the man. She took the letter and smiled. ”Thank you Ned.” she said, as the man went on his way back up the drive.
The woman closed the door behind him and walked through into the cosy kitchen at the back of the house, she sat down on a chair and opened the first letter that she had got from her son in a year.
It read as follows:
Dear Mother,
I am very sorry for what I did; I didn’t mean to run away like that but I was so upset. I hope you are well, enjoying Christmas; I am well and safe here at the base. Horse in French is Cheval and Je recherche Joey means “I look for Joey”, I still haven’t found him mother, and I’m loosing hope because I’ve seen so many horses that have been shot here.
I was sent out to France a couple of weeks back, the countryside is much flatter and greyer then it is back home, we marched through farms, there were no horses, no animals on those farms, did you know that French people eat horses! I couldn’t do that, not to a horse. I’ve met some very good friends while I’ve been here, Nathan Knight who is in the Air Service, Daniel Brennan who is a Welsh man but actually from American decent, Rhys Bevan who sadly was shot down in action a couple of weeks ago, and Edward McMillan, he was in the Desert Rats unit and was posted to France and hasn’t come home, he was a really nice man and I miss him terribly, he is posted as “Missing in action” but now they are changing it do “dead”. But I don’t believe that mother, he was such a strong man that he couldn’t be dead.
I hope the farm is going well, and Old Zoey is fine, I suppose I should ask how father is, is he still as drunk as ever?
I will come and visit hopefully after Christmas,
Take care,
I miss you,
Your loving son,
Stephen
Rose, for that was the name of Stephen’s mother, started to cry, tears rolling down her checks. A man now entered, he had the same looks as Stephen but was older. ”Why are you crying Rose?” he asked her, coming towards her and picking up the letter, scanning it.
”The little runt.” he exclaimed as he placed it back on the table, ”Look what he has written – how father is…drunk as ever! When he gets home, I’ll beat him like I’ve never beaten him before.”
”Howard! Don’t talk that way about our son!” Rose exclaimed, grabbing the letter and pocketing it, standing up and staring at her husband. ”If you hadn’t sold his horse, he wouldn’t be out there now, rising his neck. Have you seen the lists in the village? Nine men from here have been killed, and Stephen could be the next! Have some heart Howard, wasn’t it like this when you were in the army back in the Great War?” she half screamed at the man in front of her who was much taller and stronger than she.
”We volunteered up back in my day, Stephen only went because of his bleeding horse, if that horse hadn’t have gone, he would still be here, a coward!” Ted spat, turning on his heel and marching out of the kitchen, leaving Rose to stand in silence and shed a few tears.
The post man came around the buildings to the old farmhouse, knocking on the door, a letter in his hand. An ageing woman, wearing a dirty old skirt and an apron, with a flowered shirt and tired looking eyes, opened the door to see the man. She took the letter and smiled. ”Thank you Ned.” she said, as the man went on his way back up the drive.
The woman closed the door behind him and walked through into the cosy kitchen at the back of the house, she sat down on a chair and opened the first letter that she had got from her son in a year.
It read as follows:
Dear Mother,
I am very sorry for what I did; I didn’t mean to run away like that but I was so upset. I hope you are well, enjoying Christmas; I am well and safe here at the base. Horse in French is Cheval and Je recherche Joey means “I look for Joey”, I still haven’t found him mother, and I’m loosing hope because I’ve seen so many horses that have been shot here.
I was sent out to France a couple of weeks back, the countryside is much flatter and greyer then it is back home, we marched through farms, there were no horses, no animals on those farms, did you know that French people eat horses! I couldn’t do that, not to a horse. I’ve met some very good friends while I’ve been here, Nathan Knight who is in the Air Service, Daniel Brennan who is a Welsh man but actually from American decent, Rhys Bevan who sadly was shot down in action a couple of weeks ago, and Edward McMillan, he was in the Desert Rats unit and was posted to France and hasn’t come home, he was a really nice man and I miss him terribly, he is posted as “Missing in action” but now they are changing it do “dead”. But I don’t believe that mother, he was such a strong man that he couldn’t be dead.
I hope the farm is going well, and Old Zoey is fine, I suppose I should ask how father is, is he still as drunk as ever?
I will come and visit hopefully after Christmas,
Take care,
I miss you,
Your loving son,
Stephen
Rose, for that was the name of Stephen’s mother, started to cry, tears rolling down her checks. A man now entered, he had the same looks as Stephen but was older. ”Why are you crying Rose?” he asked her, coming towards her and picking up the letter, scanning it.
”The little runt.” he exclaimed as he placed it back on the table, ”Look what he has written – how father is…drunk as ever! When he gets home, I’ll beat him like I’ve never beaten him before.”
”Howard! Don’t talk that way about our son!” Rose exclaimed, grabbing the letter and pocketing it, standing up and staring at her husband. ”If you hadn’t sold his horse, he wouldn’t be out there now, rising his neck. Have you seen the lists in the village? Nine men from here have been killed, and Stephen could be the next! Have some heart Howard, wasn’t it like this when you were in the army back in the Great War?” she half screamed at the man in front of her who was much taller and stronger than she.
”We volunteered up back in my day, Stephen only went because of his bleeding horse, if that horse hadn’t have gone, he would still be here, a coward!” Ted spat, turning on his heel and marching out of the kitchen, leaving Rose to stand in silence and shed a few tears.
