The men on the ship were stirring, awoken by the stray sunlight entering through the portholes. The feeling of sadness encompassed the men, a designation they earned not through age but by experience; the experience of war. If they had not been sent to Europe to fight for their mother country, they would have retained the feeling of carefree youthfulness. Instead, a feeling of death and destruction hung over them.
A feeble ray of sunlight rested across the face of one of these men, these wounded soldiers. He groaned in pain and turned his face from the light, a shock of straight brown hair falling into his face. He wanted to close his eyes and shut out the reality the daylight had once again brought, but he knew he would be unsuccessful.
"Hey, Felix...Felix, wake up!" Though not said loudly, the words pierced through Felix King’s head like a knife and roused him to full wakefulness.
"Shut up already, I’m trying to get my beauty sleep," barked Felix sarcastically to his bunkmate, Tommy Barrett. But Tommy would not shut up; rather he asked if it was morning yet. For Tommy had been blinded in the fields at the River Marne, the same place where Felix was hit by shrapnel from the bomb that killed Elbert Werts.
So many boys, dead and injured at that place...Elbert, a friend from boyhood, Tommy, a friendship forged on the battlefield. And Felix, laying on the cot, trying to forget about his shattered knee. The doctors told him he was fortunate, they were just able to take most of the shrapnel out of his knee rather than amputate the leg, but it would never be right again. At least, Felix thought, he wouldn’t have to go back to the war—he was homeward bound. He would be marked with a permanent limp and would never again be able to bend the leg fully, but the important thing was that he was going home. Tears formed in his eyes at the thought, but he fought them back, and he pulled himself out of bed and onto his crutch.
"Tommy, yeah, it’s time to get up. They don’t want any slackers on the ship. Let’s go up and get some food," Felix offered his free arm to Tommy and they slowly made their way to the galley.
After a breakfast which Felix barely touched, he and Tommy made their way to the deck, and Felix described how they were nearing the port. Tommy, normally a happy go lucky sort, clutched the rail and a pained expression crossed his face. He said to Felix, "I can’t believe I’m almost home, to a place I can never see again."
Tommy could not see an almost identical expression cross Felix’s face, as he had also pictured a much different homecoming, with cheers for the conquering hero, not to mention a kiss from the love of his life, Izzy. But Felix swallowed his own feelings, tried to forget how he had not heard from Izzy or his family in well over a month, and replied, "I try to keep remembering that it could be worse. It’s the only thing getting me through." Then he tried to brighten up, and kidded Tommy that he didn’t have far to go to get home, as they would reach port in his home of Halifax. It would take longer for Felix to make his way to the red fields of his home in Avonlea. He wondered if he would be able to make it, he was already so weary.
The ship reached port and tied up to the dock, which was a beehive of activity. People were rushing right and left, boarding the ship and leaving with their human cargo; soldiers in all states of injury. As the ship had arrived a day early, there were no family members waiting at the docks to welcome their heroes.
As they were more mobile than many of the men on board, Felix and Tommy made their way down the gangplank to start the next leg of their journey. On the dock, they said goodbye to the comrades they met on the fields of war and on the ship, then the group dispersed, heading off in different directions, into the next chapter of their lives.
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