THE LAST GOOD WAR: A Novel by Paul Wonnacott Page A

was just beginning.
    After a few days, Anna began to realize what the last years of the Roman Empire must have been like. A frantic round of parties had begun, each vying to be the best of the year, on the assumption—obvious, but under no circumstances to be uttered—that it might be the last.
    The tempo intensified at the end of September, after the Munich conference ceded Czechoslovakia's heavily defended borderlands to Hitler. The sense of impending doom was heightened by the growing number of uniforms around the university; the undergraduate men were increasingly distracted by the demands of the army reserve training program.
    In keeping up with the parties, Anna had an advantage. She wasn't taking any classes. She was staying with Krystyna's parents, who had a comfortable apartment only a few blocks from the university. She still had the luxury of sleeping until noon.
    One evening—the third evening in a row of partying—Anna went alone; Krystyna would join her at the party with her boyfriend, Pawel, and one of his friends. Quite early, only a little after 10, Anna felt drowsy, and slipped away to an alcove to rest for a few moments on a sofa. Soon she drifted off into a soft, untroubled sleep.
    Vaguely, she felt someone sit down on the sofa beside her, and heard Krystyna in the distance, “... my cousin, Anna.”
    “Ah, a real sleeping beauty,” responded a voice on the sofa beside her.
    She opened her eyes the slightest crack, barely enough to see the hazy outline of a young man in uniform. She could see him just well enough to realize that he was staring at her face. She stirred, fluttering her eyes as she opened them.
    They were not the ice blue that he had expected, to match her blond hair. Rather, he was gazing into warm hazel eyes.
    He abruptly looked away, toward Krystyna and Pawel on the sofa opposite. He rose quickly to his feet as Krystyna repeated the introduction.
    “Anna, this is Kaz Jankowski. As I mentioned, he's an old friend of Pawel.”
    Anna held out her hand. Kaz took it, and bowed with the slightest click of his heels. She motioned for him to sit down again. Handsome, she thought. She asked what unit he was in; the Seventh Cavalry, he answered.
    “So you love horses, too?”
    “Particularly Tiber, my stallion. We all look after our own horses ourselves; it builds a bond. You ride?”
    “When I was younger.”
    She paused, but then continued; he seemed interested.
    “Quite a bit younger. My father put me up on a pony when I was only 18 months old.... I'm afraid I screamed and cried when they took me down.”
    “What's the matter with that?” he asked, grinning.
    “They almost had to pry me off; I made quite a scene.”
    “As I said, what's the matter with that?” Kaz repeated, with an even broader grin. “So you've been riding ever since?”
    “Mostly when I was young. I guess you've got a point—there was nothing wrong. In fact, I was rewarded. On my fourth birthday, they gave me a pony. 'Lightning' I called her. Not very appropriate. She was barrel-like—as wide as she was tall. With small legs that stuck down like sticks at the corners. Gave me a bumpy ride. But how I loved her—my best friend when I was growing up.”
    “Sounds idyllic.” Kaz imagined a slim young figure on her pony, the sun flashing through the highlights of her windblown, flaxen hair.
    “It was.” Anna suddenly looked sad. “But then it came to an end. One day, when I was 12, my father took me for a walk in the woods. Slowly and softly, he got me to recognize the truth: the pony was so old, and in so much pain that the only humane thing was to have her put down. The vet would be coming the next morning, after I left for school. I spent rest of the afternoon and evening brushing and hugging my four-legged friend. It was a bittersweet parting.”
    After all these years, it still brought tears to Anna's eyes.
    Kaz responded with tales of how he was training Tiber. Anna thought it was sad, to train horses