My military service will change how the locals see us, I am sure of it. You have said yourself that we must buy many war bonds. You tell me that, because I am here, Clive and Jasper Davis come with pies and tarts that their wives have baked. Clive brought you a rented mule when ours was lame. Do not be too angry with me, Chacha-ji.

They have given us blue laundry bags into which we are to put all our things—the books that I brought with me, the photograph of Mother, the compass that you gifted me years ago. I am to put everything inside that makes me Amarjeet Singh Gill, son of Gurubhir Singh, Tarkpur, Ludhiana District. The army says that it will keep this bag safe until I come back. I come from a family of warriors, Chacha-ji. You told me once that if I do my work well, Waheguru will steep my 5 fingers in melted butter and my labors will be rewarded. I remember every day these words. Please pray for my welfare.

In chardi kala,

Amarjeet

La Courtine, France

24 July 1918

Esteemed Chacha-ji,

I am writing from an American artillery camp. We are leaving tomorrow for a two-day train ride to the front. Some men are filled with bravado, at least on the surface, for no one wants to show their fear or any sign of weakness. But when they smoke their cigarettes, sometimes their hands shake.

Every step of the way we draw closer to where we will meet our fate. But despite this, we are not unhappy. We are a group of buddies, all of us one people. One fellow says something, then another says a joke in response, it is an entertaining time-pass.

It is true that there are some disagreeable sorts. Harry says that our sergeant, Sam Pinkerton from Fredonia, is a nasty chap, and that may be so. Not one Japanese or Hindu or Italian or Greek or Slovak or Jew ever liked Sam Pinkerton, because he doesn’t like us. But yesterday Everett Pike from El Centro said to me, “You fellas aren’t half-bad, ya know that?” He was talking to me and Chola Singh and I thought, what a world this is—that two boys from the same town could not talk to each other at the schoolhouse, but across the earth they can talk and laugh while watering their horses at a mud hole.

Yours,

Amarjeet

War Zone, Western Front

29 September 1918

Dear esteemed Jivan Chacha-ji,

We are in territory that was won only three days ago at great cost to our men. Tomorrow, we will advance to the front. Our own company’s soldiers will go over the top. I will be providing them with artillery cover, and I pray that I will do well for them.