Thousands were killed; boys and men alike were left to rot in the trenches. The women back at home rotted as well, though in their minds, mostly, through the loss of sons and husbands.
Though I already said that I did not pay much attention to the war, sometimes one cannot help but become involved. The girls back home in Sept Iles were writing me, saying how terrible things were now that their boys were gone. Though I tried to never think of it, I hoped that Henri would never leave to the front.
We all hated the war. By "we" I mean most of us in Quebec. Then again, perhaps I should not say we hated the war, but rather that we hated that we were told to fight it. That the English went to fight for Britain was one thing, but why say that the French should as well? The argument was then that we should not then fight for Britain, but for France, for our home. Since when had France been our home? We were not Frenchmen, no; we were, and are, Canadians.
Most of the boys were safe. They did not enlist, and the government told us that there would be no draft for this war, so mostly we were all happy. Henri, my husband, worked fairly well at the steel mill, though he would always come home and complain about his back. That damn back of his was always putting out, but when I would ask him about it he would always give me that smile of his, that tight lipped, easy smile and say “Flower, it will be better in the morning. Smile for me?” Of course I would, and that would be all that was said on the matter.
Winter came, cold and unforgiving.
The snow was worse this year then the last, and the cold cut through every towel we put around the windows. I kept the fire going as much as I could, but it made no difference. It seemed that the cold itself was at war against us, but we did not falter. Henri continued working, continued hurting, and always came home with that smile, saying things would be better in the morning. We looked forward to Christmas and planned to bring over my family.
Conscription came, cold and unforgiving.
The bastards lied to us. The English said that we, the French-Canadians, were slackers, traitors, set in our ways, stubborn as mules, and the end of Canada. The government may as well have agreed, saying that we had to fight for our country if nothing else; had to help the boys at the front. Prime Minister Borden was the traitor.
The girls and I were talking about it the day it came around, worrying over who would be taken away. We wanted our husbands to stay home to look after the children, and the girls were relieved when they heard that only single men and husbands without children would be taken to France. They were all so relieved that they did not notice my own terror. Henri and I did not have any children.
I panicked; I did not want Henri to leave to the front. I knew very well that Quebec and Montreal would be the first to be harvested for this dreadful fight, and I tried desperately to think of any solution before Henri came home so that I would not have to tell him the news should he had not heard it already at work. I thought for a long while, pacing in our room, crying all the while, praying to God to let Henri stay home where he was safe.
I thought about what would happen to him, where he would go, and how lonely he would be. I did not worry about myself at all, only him. What about his back? He would have to carry around a large, heavy bag. His back would be put out every day, and I knew very well it would not be better in the morning, not after sleeping in the trenches. The thought of his possible death had never crossed my mind.
Henri came home, weak and stiff as ever, still wearing that smile. That is until I collapsed into his arms in tears. “Flower, what on earth is the matter?” he asked.
I told him of Borden; of the conscription. I told him that they were taking single men and husbands without children, that we did not have children, that I was worried, and that I did not want him to leave to France and hurt his back or sleep in the trenches. He held me and he smiled his smile, saying to me that everything would be fine. I know though that things would not be better in the morning, not this time.
