I see them standing there, swaying side to side, feverishly tapping their feet. A long line of bright, young faces. Some of them are my friends. I wish I was standing there with them, waiting to write my name on the volunteer sheet. Do they know how badly I want to fight? Do they realize what I’d give for the Commonwealth? But I can’t fight. “Unfit for duty,” they said. Now I have to watch my friends ascend into glory without me.

It’s not fair.

…

I see them standing there, feverishly tapping their feet. A terrible line of bright, young faces. They remind me of old friends, long gone. I wish they were here with me now, but they died long ago. These young men and women, do they know what they’re fighting for? Do they realize what this Commonwealth asks of them? No, they don’t see the final cost of war. I watched my friends descend into bloodshed and death without me. Now these bright, young faces will do the same.

It’s not fair.