Wednesday, August 5, 1914

Diary of Victoria Tanner (Charlottetown, P.E.I.)

My son will not listen to reason. He thinks I am an hysterical woman, that I am only worrying because if he leaves there will be no one to help with the laundry on Sundays, no one to clean the barn on Mondays, and no one tall enough to reach the jars on the top pantry shelf; he will just move them to a lower shelf before he leaves, he says, and that will solve everything.

I have two months and a few days to convince him. October 14 is his 18th birthday and the day - he says - he is signing up for service. I ask him, "Service for what?" And he laughs like it is a joke. Something funny said by his funny old mother.

I have 70 days. 70 days until my intervention - me standing between the recruitment officer and John with John's birth certificate in hand - will do nothing to stop him. 70 days until my son goes away to die. Because that is what will happen. I tell him, "Wars are where boys go to die." But then he says to me, "But, Mom, I'm a man."