Clyde

John T. Jefferson sat quietly at his desk sorting through his student’s daily paperwork, essays on European history. He absently shuffled the papers clearly not concerned with the content, something else was clouding his thoughts. He sighed deeply wiping his forehead with a simple monogramed handkerchief. Pulling the newspaper from the corner of his desk he placed it in front of him over the students’ papers. “U.S. At War With Germany, President Signs Resolution” read the headline. He pulled his glasses off and sat back in his chair, the warm May breeze blowing in through the windows offering little reprieve from the heat of the afternoon. School was in the final week and exams were being competed that day. He picked up one of the essays entitled, “Germany’s rise to power in the age of Victoria” written by Clyde Anderson. Clyde was one of John’s best students and at Just 17 years old he had a bright future and had been accepted to the local university on a small scholarship. The school was proud of his recognition and a small class picture with his face circled, hung in the foyer with a simple acknowledgement of “first college scholarship of 1917.” Clyde Anderson was headed places, but John feared that he would be drafted along with his fellow students and spend the majority of his first 2 years of college on the battlefield instead, hopefully to return, accept the scholarship and continue his education. John was in his mid 50’s and not eligible for the draft but he knew that most of his students wouldn’t return in the fall. He glanced out the window to see the students enjoying themselves outside. Some sat in groups stoically discussing the political issues of the day, others sat faces being warmed by the sun, while still others tossed a football. Laughter could be heard and the soft chatter of distant conversation. John gathered his things, placed graded papers on students’ desks and walked out of his classroom to begin the summer holiday.

One month later the draft was enacted and most of Johns students eagerly accepted the call and joined the military in some capacity. Train stations were full of crying mothers and a million arms waving franticly from train windows. The boys were excited but also ill prepared for what they would face. The next year would claim many of their lives.

John started the school year with some trepidation as he knew most of the desks would be empty, but he was also hopeful in the possibilities of the future and the return of his students from war. He kept up with all of them, sending letters, his way of keeping track of who was coming home.

The war went on, but the letters kept coming. Each of the boys were alive and doing well for just the first few months of the war. The trenches were an awful place and although the students did talk much of the experiences there john read all about it in the local newspaper.

Christmas was just around the corner, and he knew that for most this would be their very first Christmas away from home. They didn’t get the luxury of being in a university or in their parents’ home for Christmas. Most of them sat in mud, cold and homesick defending their country. Johns letters brought encouragement and news from home.

John sat down at his desk and pulled a simple box of tiny Christmas cards from the drawer. He had been saving these special patriotic cards for the boys over there. Each one was getting a special note from him for Christmas this year. He placed his pen and cards on the desk and a roster of names. Clyde was one of the firsts. He was doing well and often spoke of the other guys he served with. He joked about the rats in the trenches and even shared a few sentences of French he had been practicing. John got busy addressing envelopes and writing special messages in the cards. Clyde was up next and he knew exactly what he wanted to write to him.

He was deep in Christmas thoughts when a knock was heard on his classroom door. Class had ended for the day and it was strange to have someone knock as most of the students were use to just barging in when they forgot something. He waited but no one entered. He placed his pen down and took his glasses off. “Come in!” his voice boomed from across the room.

A mail clerk walked in carrying a small satchel of letters. “Yes?” John asked.

The clerk walked quickly across the room and placed a letter in Johns hand. He didn’t speak, just turned, and walked quickly out the way he entered.

John put his glasses back on and leaned back in his chair. He searched around for his wooden letter opener. Opening the letter he saw it was from Rebecca Anderson, Clyde’s mother. She had recently been widowed and with Clyde gone it had been difficult on her and his sisters. Unknown to Rebecca John had been sending a few dollars to her to help while her son was in Europe. Clyde had enlisted instead of waiting for the draft, he was one of those eager to serve and help.

The letter was simple and straightforward.

 Mr. John T. Jefferson,

 “Clyde won’t be coming home.”

 Rebecca Anderson

John held his breath hoping there was another reason other than the obvious, but there wasn’t. Clyde was gone, the first of his students to fall. John leaned over his desk and the Christmas card he had just started for Clyde. He had already placed a stamp on the envelope in anticipation of sending it off because, well, hope is sometimes all you have. He held the small card in his hand and said a simple prayer. Looking at the roster of other students he would send cards to he took his letter opener and gently peeled the stamp from the envelope. taking the card he placed it in the envelope. He looked around his classroom at all the empty desks wondering who else would be gone by the spring. He stood from his desk, placed the little envelope in the middle drawer, grabbed his hat and coat and walked slowly to the door. He reached for the light and turned for one last glance at the desks. Sighing heavily he turned the light out