the war to end all wars

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PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

Another WWI hero denied his due in his own time.

WHAT DID YOU DO IN THE WAR, DADDY?

Twelve-year-old Elsie listened with rapt attention to Uncle Jim, Daddy’s army buddy from the war.

“There I was, bleeding in that French field, waiting to meet my maker. Then here comes your daddy, larger than life, slings me across his shoulders and runs back to the bunker under enemy fire.”

“Daddy never told me.”

“He’s too modest. It angers me that he never got the Congressional Medal of Honor he so deserved—because he was a Jew.”

War’s not about medals.” William Shemin shrugged. “I love my country.”

Elsie ground her teeth. “Daddy, someday I’m going to right this wrong.”

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PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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Due to my scheduling error, this has gone live on Tuesday instead of Wednesday. Consider it a Christmas or Hanukkah present. Easier to leave it than take it down and start over. Oops.

Shalom,

Rochelle

Happy Holidays to those who celebrate! This week I’m taking a break and posting a retread from nearly six years ago. Some may recognize the story. (different photo) A special thank you to those who have been with Friday Fictioneers as long or longer than I.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A SOLDIER OF THE GREAT WAR

In 1918 Dad deployed to France singing “Over There” and returned, months later, a sullen shell.

Then, for Christmas 1919, Grandma gave me a stub-tailed, bull-terrier puppy.

Instead of the “you-can’t-keep-it” snarl I expected, Dad grinned.

“He’s the spittin’ image of the bravest soldier in the 102^nd. Bullets and mustard gas couldn’t defeat him.”

“He looked like a dog?”

“Not ‘looked like,’ son. I’d a never made it outta the trenches if that pooch hadn’t…”

Dad coughed and blinked, took my pup under one arm, straightened to attention and raised his hand-hook to his brow.

“Sergeant Stubby, I salute you!”