“I take my needles and I knit everywhere I go – at my sister's house, during card games. When I hear stories of the horrors in the trenches, my blood runs cold. My poor Will. All I can think to do is knit. I just finished my 32nd pair of wool socks. I hide little messages of encouragement in the toes for any soldier who gets a pair. I wish Will could write more often.”
“In the papers, they describe the first of July battles as a magnificent attack. But I haven't had news from Will for over a month. I'm worried sick. I hope nothing has happened to him. I should have kept him from going… Now, all I can do is hope and pray.
“A telegram… for me? I hope it's not about Will. My hands are shaking. I have a rock in the pit of my stomach. He's reported missing in action ? What does that mean? Maybe Laura is right and he's been taken prisoner. Or maybe he's still on the battlefield, wounded. I'm just sick thinking about it. Dear God, let him get through this alive.”
“I got a letter this morning. It says Will died in action… but I don't believe it. I'd feel it if he was dead. I need to know what happened to him. I just can't believe he's gone… so far away… Never to come back. My poor boy, my flesh and blood… my entire life.”