The one not sent-
Diary Entry 47-

I am the one not sent. I stay home, while my brothers, friends, fathers, people I don't know, go to fight. Fight for MY country. Its my country too! So why can't I go? Or why didn't I go? My heart always stops when a car goes by our house, I never know... will it be my father who died this time? Or my older brother? We were so close... We here about the war, on the radio. A battle won, a battle lost. I am tired of it all, when will it end? Then again... why am I whining? We barely entered the war, our allies have been fighting so much longer then we. We sat back, and watched. We watched the Jews become persecuted, watched them be driven away from their home. Watched as we sent them back, sent them to die. Our president, he holds the people in his hands. In this war, the war after "the War to Stop all Wars" we shake in our boots. We cry at home, and wait. Wait for the message, that they are dead.

America the gloriful, America the free. America the home of pompous fools. We cheer at every won battle, and cry for every loss. The war is not over. It won't be a for a while. I did not go, I was not sent. War is not gloriful, war is not pretty. War is something I never want to hear of again. God help us if the enemy ever reaches our shores again.

The boy stopped writing in his journal, standing and shutting it. At the door, there was a man.... dressed in black. Swallowing his fear he went to the door. Each step heavy and sorrowful. It had come. The one sent was dead....
"pray that you don't get sent... the one not sent lives..." a WW1 soldier had told him. And now, he knew what to answer to that.
"but the one not sent, lives.... with guilt.."