What it’s like not being home for Christmas
I remember sitting on the edge of the bed the night before I left to go off to war in the first place. I wasn’t afraid to go. It was my duty and I’m a good soldier. But I was so afraid for my little girls. A whole year away from them, and just what if I were killed or taken prisoner? Who would take care of them? Who would help their mother see that they arrived at womanhood ready? I collapsed into sobbing.