Across a War-Tossed Sea by L.M. Elliott Page A

ghost stories!
    In school, we are on the War of 1812. It is no better than the Revolution! Did you know we kidnapped American sailors and BURNED the WHITE HOUSE? Honestly, Mummy, it is amazing the Yanks stand by us at all. Ron is now calling me ‘limey’ since our Royal Navy sucked on limes from the Caribbean colonies to prevent scurvy. I am so WRETCHED, Mummy.
    I hope the maple leaf I put in this letter arrives in one piece
—
it is such a lovely orangey-red. I do not remember anything quite like it back home.
    Your devoted son,
    Wesley Bishop
    Dear Dad,
    The latest swivet on this side of the pond is that there will not be candy for Halloween because of sugar rationing! I wonder how long it has been since my mates back home have even seen chocolate. When I return I am bringing them a suitcase of Tootsie Rolls. Is there anything you would like? Tobacco? Richmond must be the capital of cigarette making, but even here ciggies are hard to come by because tobacco is now designated an ‘essential crop’ for the troops. Mr Ratcliff plans to plant some, even though it ruins soil. I think he is embarrassed about not being able to re-up with the army on account of his limp. So he does whatever he can for the war effort.
    Back to Halloween. Mr Ratcliff says if he catches us vandalising anything he will ‘tan us good.’ Evidently in his day, youth ran wild with ‘tricks,’ like loosening hinges on gates. When some poor bloke opened it the next day to let out the cows the gate crashed down on his foot. Doling out ‘treats’ was the American way of stopping such mischief during the Depression when life was already bad enough. To keep everyone out of trouble, Bobby and I are planning a haunted house in the barn. The country is using Halloween celebrations to organise scrap drives. So we will charge everyone some tin cans or old paper to enter. Mr Ratcliff seemed pleased with that idea.
    I wish you would tell me what happened at Verdun during the Great War. Mr Ratcliff will not discuss it except to say you were very brave and he is ‘mighty beholden’ to you. I hope someday we can have a proper talk about it over a cup of Mum’s tea. Or a pint! At this rate, I shall be drinking and shaving before I see you again. May I come home now, Dad? The war must be turning our way, at least some, since there are German POWs here now. When I first saw a truckload I started to hurl a rotten apple at them. I wish it had been a grenade.
    Love, Charles

Chapter Seven
    â€œI ’ll need you boys to check the pumpkin patch and load the ripe ones onto the truck tomorrow afternoon so I can drive them into Shockoe. Customers have been coming into Mr. Epstein’s store asking for pumpkins to make jack-o’-lanterns.” Mr. Ratcliff tipped his wooden chair onto its back legs as he talked to Bobby. “Plan on a big work weekend, son. We’ve got to cut the corn and shred the stalks for fodder, then plant winter wheat. Somehow got to find time to hay, too.”
    He patted his stomach and added, “Wonderful chicken dumplings, Mary Lee.”
    â€œThank you kindly, sir,” Mrs. Ratcliff said, teasing him as she spooned squash onto the twins’ plates. “Eat up now, honeys. No arguing. There are plenty of children who’d be grateful for that extra helping of squash. It’ll make you big and strong.”
    Wesley moved his elbow so Mrs. Ratcliff could ladle a spoonful onto his plate too. Squash was an American vegetable Wesley tried hard to like, especially after learning its importance to the Indians’ diet, but he still gagged over its limp seeds. He took a few bites. Then he carefully spread the remnants around his plate to look like he’d eaten most of it.
    He noticed Patsy watching him with an amused smile. She held a plate of still-warm bread toward him. “Roll?” she asked. Wesley gratefully took one, wondering if she’d guessed what he was doing