note: while this isn't my first time writing this is my first time letting anyone read what I've written. so please bear with me. I'm trying a new writing style. in 1941 the war was raging. It was rough, disgusting even. but there I was. In the thick of it. Always in the middle of the aftermath of war. My opinion on right or wrong didn't matter. all I knew was that the person in front of me deserved to live to see their family again. I'd let the other people decide what to do. and occasionally, I would get a letter from a grateful soldier who thought I was some sort of heroic goddess for just doing my job. and the letters always started with my name. miss. lovell.