The Greyhound by John Cooper Read Free Book Online

proud of. I just scuffle along every day and it seems like there’s nothing … nothing to hold onto. Sometimes it feels like there’s something but…nope, just emptiness. What can I accomplish? What have I done that’s so great?”
    “Every day we have to try to find things that will make us better people. There’s nothing heroic about it. Little things. Sometimes we do things that we don’t know will help others, but they do, and in doing those things, we become better people. I can tell you from my own experience: failure is a great teacher, but sometimes a painful one too.”
    Danny looked at his father’s desk, which was covered with papers and nicknacks. It looked like his father’s whole life was laid out on the desk; one long, tough lesson about messing up.
    Jack paused, and said, “Danny, there are people, in our family even, who have done things that defined them as brave, but at the time, they didn’t think they were doing anything special.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a file folder, rifled through some papers, and handed Danny a photocopy of a letter.
    “This letter’s really old, that’s why I have a copy of it. The original is with a cousin of yours. Your great-grandfather, Martin, who fought in the First World War, wrote it.” Danny liked hearing stories about him. He was learning about the war in school. “Martin came to Canada from England, though his own father was originally from Belgium, and his father before him from Spain. Martin brought his wife Alice and one child with him. He worked as a labourer. By the time the war broke out, he was already close to middle age. He didn’t have to go to war, but he did because he thought it was the right thing to do. He served as a private for a year in some of the worst battles in the war, in a place called Ypres, Belgium.”
    Danny looked at the letter. At the top was the YMCA logo, and under it was written “Canadian War Contingent Association.” His father opened another drawer, and pulled out a small cotton bag. “Have a look at these. I was hoping to pass these on to you sometime and this seems like the right time to do it.” Out came a military dog tag that was designed to fit around a person’s wrist; it was made of aluminum or stainless steel, and was shiny and silver. On the front of it was engraved his grandfather’s name and underneath “2nd Battalion Can.” Martin’s number was in the middle: 454020. Also in the bag was a round gold-coloured medal with the words: “The Great War for Civilisation” carved on it. There was also a heavy brass medal shaped like a cross, with a purple ribbon. He held it up. The letters G and R were embossed in the centre of the corss in fancy lettering, and the cross’ arms had maple leaves on them.
    He opened the letter. It was written in neat script, carefully penned but looking like it might have been done in a hurry.
    1st Division
    Convalescent Hospital In the Field
    June 15, 1916
    My Dear Wife:
    Just a note to you and children hoping that it finds you well as I am feeling a bit better myself. This is the first time I have written to you in a green envelope.
    Danny looked at his dad, who told him that the green envelopes were reserved for longer letters home and were a privilege. Usually soldiers didn’t have a chance to send anything more than a postcard.
    Well, Alice, I was mad to get out but I wish it was over. I got out lucky on the 26th of April when in the front line the Germans exploded a mine under us. It was awful to see my mates go up. I was to go on sentry duty at 6:30, the mine went up at 6:20, and I was about fifty yards away filling my water bottle or I would have been up in bits.
    As you see I was very lucky that trip. Fifteen of us held a piece of the crater and a good supply of men feeding us with bombs. We fought the Germans out in No Man’s Land throwing bombs till the dead piled up one on another. I though the bombardment that time was bad but this time June 2 was