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I would never take it lying down. I would never let it happen. But once he got the call, I couldn't refuse. After all, what could we do? Where could we go? Canada? Europe? We didn't have any money.
He said that he would never take it lying down. That he would stand up for himself, and for the other men being sent off to death. He just sat there at the kitchen table, motionless. His eyes re-read the letter again, again, and again.
He cried his eyes out. Those great big eyes. I tried to comfort him, but all we could think about was the letter.
They no longer have men to fight. We are sending young men off to die for nothing. For a war in the desert.
I would never take it lying down. I tried to say something while he packed, that we could go somewhere. But he didn't listen.
He said that he would never take it lying down. He was an artist, not a soldier. He would fight, just so young boys wouldn't have to.
He was seventeen then.
My brother was seventeen when he was drafted.
It's one year later, and we still wait for him. I still think of his great big eyes, welled up with tears. I still think of how he was confidant he would come home.
He was eighteen when he died.
He was right when he said he wouldn't take it lying down. He took it with heart, stood against fate and looked it in the eye.
Now I hold a letter in my hand. The same letter he got. I would never take it lying down.
I'm sixteen. I'm from the poorest section of town.
I throw the letter into the burning fire, below my brothers picture.
No. I would never take it lying down.
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I know sixteen year olds and seventeen year olds can't get drafted. But hey, didn't Nazi Germany do that after they had no men left to fight? Besides, in the future, who knows what the Repubs might do to the poor people?
Okay, there was my first effort on this website. Please tell me how it was for a thirteen year old!
MiniAmandaRuth
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