18 The Letter

CHAPTER 18 The Letter The troop was standing at attention at the side of a road, waiting for the command to march. Suddenly Henry remembered the little packet wrapped in a faded yellow envelope that Wilson had given him the other day. "Wilson," Henry called to his friend. "What?" Wilson was staring down the road. For some strange reason, the look on his face at that moment made him appear very frightened. Henry felt that he should change

the subject. "Oh, nothing," Henry said. He decided not to remind him of the other day, when Wilson had felt so scared and certain that he was going to die that he gave Henry the envelope. To remind him of that moment of fear would just be mean. Henry used to be afraid of Wilson, for it used to be so easy to upset him. But now, Henry had a new plan. If Wilson asked him about what had really happened the previous day—if he discovered that Henry had actually run from battle—then Henry would bring out the little envelope and remind him of how scared he had been. It was like a weapon he could use to protect himself from being laughed at. In a rare weak moment, Wilson had spoken with sobs of his own death. He had given Henry the envelope, which probably held keepsakes for his relatives. Now Henry felt

that he was better than his friend. He even felt sorry for Wilson. Henry now had his pride back. Yes, he had made mistakes, but no one would ever know about them. He was still a man. He did not think about the battles that were coming soon. He would not have to plan how he would deal with them. He had learned yesterday that he would not be punished for avoiding his duties. Besides, he was now feeling confident. He had more faith in himself. He was now a man of experience. He had been in danger, had seen the worst that could happen, and now believed that it was not that bad. Anyway, Henry thought, how could they kill him when it was obvious that he had been chosen for greatness? How else could he have survived everything that had happened already? He remembered how some of the other

men had run from the battle. As he thought about their terror-filled faces, he felt that he didn't like them. They had been weak and had run too quickly, when everyone could see them. He had run secretly and with pride. Wilson coughed loudly and brought him back from his daydreaming. "Henry," he said. "What?" asked Henry. Wilson coughed again. He moved around as if he was uncomfortable. "Well," he said at last. His face was red. "I guess you can give me back that letter." "All right, Wilson," Henry said after a few moments. He opened his jacket and removed the letter from his inside pocket. He gave it to Wilson, who was so embarrassed that he couldn't even look at Henry. Henry had done this slowly because he was

thinking of something to say about the letter. But he couldn't think of anything to say, so instead he decided he would be nice and not tease his friend. After this, Henry thought again about the battles he had seen so far. He was sure that he could now return home and make people's hearts glow with stories of war. He could see himself in a room telling tales to listeners. He saw his audience imagining him as the hero in all kinds of blazing scenes.