I'm sorry. That's all I have to say. Someone needs to take all writing devices away from me.

***

"We interrupt this program to bring you a special news bulletin. The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii by air..." David Jacobs hadn't left the chair next to the radio all day. All morning and afternoon he'd sat, wringing his wrinkled hands as he heard about the attack over and over again. He couldn't bear to read the evening paper when his wife Abigail brought it for them.

"A Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, naturally would mean war," the man said, through the crackling radio.

"David, are you alright?" Abigail asked, face lined with worry as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he replied gruffly.

She nodded and hurried out of the room to busy herself in the kitchen.

"... and have now attacked army and navy bases in Manila." David barely reacted to the knock on the door, his eyes remained clenched shut until he heard the creaking of floorboards in a front of him.

"Robbie?" He asked, cracking an eye open. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to talk to you about something important," the young man said, gripping his hat tightly. "I'm sure you've heard about what's happened."

David nodded quickly. "I've been listening to programs about it all day."

"It sounds like Congress is going to declare war," Robert observed, shrugging off his jacket.

"Yes, I suppose they will," David agreed carefully. He raised an eyebrow at his grandson as he began to see where the conversation was headed.

"Rightfully so, don't you think?"

"If you've come to talk about joining the army again, this doesn't change anything Robert. I don't care what's happened in Hawaii, it's a silly idea and you should know that I don't approve."

"Grandpa! It's an attack on our country! We have to fight!"

"There are plenty of other men out there who can fight," David retorted. "You can stay here!"

"I've graduated and I'm eighteen! There's nothing holding me back!"

"What about your family, Robert?"

Robert sighed. "I'm going to protect them by fighting. Please, try to understand."

"I don't. I don't understand why you'd throw away your life like that! I'm telling you, as an old man who's seen worse things than you can imagine, not to go." David crossed his arms, face settled into a frown as he stared at his grandson.

"Grandpa, what about that strike you were a part of? You fought some of the richest men in the country! You didn't back down! You fought!"

"That was different Robert! That was completely different. I don't want you to go, it's a bad idea."

"Your advice is too late," Robert said, looking away.

"What do you mean?"

"I enlisted this morning just as soon as I heard about the attack. They're sending me to Virginia next Tuesday."

David's heart stopped. His eldest grandchild had signed himself up for the war. He wasn't drafted and forced, no, this was worse. He offered to go.

"Grandpa?" Robert asked worriedly after a minute of silence.

"Go. Go home," David ordered hoarsely after a minute of silence.

Robert hesitated, chewing his bottom lip, but eventually gave a nod and swiftly left the room. David could feel his wife's disapproving gaze as he hurried upstairs to his office, but he ignored it. His hands fumbled with the top drawer of his desk. He searched around inside, finally pulling out what he'd been looking for.

The frame was old, the picture was growing stained and crinkled with age, but David still remembered the day it was taken as though it were yesterday.

***

"Les! Do be careful!" Abigail cried as she threw her arms around her brother-in-law.

"I will Abby!" Les laughed. "I'll be back here by Christmas!"

"You'd better be!" Abigail replied. "Who else will eat the whole turkey?"

"I don't know," Les said with a grin. "Samuel here is getting pretty big, I bet he could handle it," Les motioned to his fifteen year-old nephew.

Davey watched as his sons and daughter gave their uncle hugs. His only daughter, Sarah, even managed to convince Les to send her a hair bow from France before she and her siblings were led away by Abigail.

"I guess this is goodbye," David said sadly.

"Only for a little while," Les responded good-naturedly. Although he was now twenty-nine, he still had the spirit of a young boy. That, however, made Davey quite worried as his brother had been drafted through the newly created 'selective service' to fight in the Great War. "I'll be back before you know it!"

"Take care of yourself, Les," Davey said, giving his brother a hug.

"I will. And you'll keep an eye out for Maggie and the kids, won't you?" Les glanced over to where his wife stood holding their son's hand, the other holding baby Ruthie.

"Of course I will," Davey promised.

That was it. Les went to speak to his wife and children one last time before getting in the train. Then the whistle was blowing and Les and the other men were scrambling into the train.

The family stayed until the train disappeared, all waving and trying to stay happy. As soon as the train was out of sight Margaret fell to her knees, sobbing. Davey wished he could do the same, but he had to stay strong for the women and children. He would not shed a tear.

***

The day they'd received the telegram had been the worst day of Davey's life. Les had been killed in the Argonne forest, he wouldn't be coming home for Christmas or any other day.

That was the day Davey had taken down his brother's picture, hiding it away in his desk, where he wouldn't have to look at it. For the first week he could barely look at Sam, his eldest son, who was an exact copy of Les, right down to his smile.

And though he wouldn't say anything against the war, he couldn't afford to go to prison and leave his family to struggle, he swore to himself to never support another war again. Not when one had stolen his brother away.

***

Robert had been gone for seven months. David hadn't seen him since that afternoon. Samuel and Abigail had been furious that he hadn't shown up to send him off, but Davey wouldn't have been able to do that. Every day since than David had been crushed by guilt, but he wouldn't support his grandson's position, he would not support another war.

He'd talked to Jack a few times over the phone. Though Jack had moved to New Mexico years ago, the two had remained close and still called each other whenever things got rough.

He'd called Jack as soon as Robert had made his decision, only to learn that one of Jack's own grandsons had also enlisted.

"So he's back now?" David questioned.

"Yes, been back for a month and he's different Dave. I don't know what happened to him over there, but he's different and won't tell us anything!" Jack complained loudly.

David winced and moved the phone away from his ear. "Maybe he feels guilty about coming back."

"He didn't have much choice," Jack scoffed. "He's missing part of his arm now! And he's been acting weird, Dave! Something's really wrong with him! The other his mother found him sitting on his bed holding a loaded gun!"

David's eyes widened. "Is he alright?"

"Yes, they got rid of the gun immediately. Threw out every weapon but the kitchen knives and his sister's keepin' an eye on him. I don't know what we're going to do."

"I'm sorry Jack, that sounds terrible."

"Thanks Dave. Have you heard from Rob lately?"

"No," David admitted. "I got a letter a month back but I haven't read it yet."

"You should Dave!"

"I know, I know. I just can't do it yet, I will."

Jack hummed on the other end and David knew his friend was disappointed, but he didn't care. "Did you hear about Spot? One of his was just sent to France!"

David did not know, nor did he know that Race had also proudly sent off a grandson. It seemed that everyone was leaving and David was the only person who was upset. He still didn't plan on changing his mind, though he grew guiltier every second he listened to Jack.

***

David stared at the window in a mix of anger and pain. His eyes were fixed on the gold star banner that Abigail had hung in the window the previous morning.

He really wished that he'd gone to send Robert off. Wished that he'd hugged Robert, told him how proud he was and how much he loved him, rather than turning him out.

Now it was too late. David stared at the picture that Samuel had given him.

Robert was standing proudly in his uniform, a bright grin on his face. David's mind immediately pictured the boy as he might have been during his final moments. Had he suffered long? Did he cry out for his mother as the rumors said of all dying men?

Had he thought of his poor sisters and all of their weeping when they heard the news, or his father who would put on a brave face despite his heart shattering at the loss of his only son? Did he spare one last thought for his terrible grandfather who'd thrown him out rather than hold him close? Did he know how much David loved him?

David shook away the thoughts, but they remained there in the back of his mind, taunting him, gnawing at him like a dog on a bone. He couldn't bear to look at the picture any longer!

Out of sight, out of mind, he told himself as he opened the desk drawer. That was the only way to make the guilt and pain go away. He slammed the drawer shut and waited for the clenching of his heart to stop, but it didn't.

It got worse, his chest getting tighter and tighter, his breathing growing labored. Then he was gasping for air and the hot tears were pouring down his face, and his ears were ringing and his eyes were clenched shut.

His hands were covering his face, then running through his hair, then fisting on the desk. His heart gave another painful lurch and he was suddenly rifling through his desk drawer, blindly searching for the photograph. His hand made contact with it and it was pulled to his chest as though it was actually his grandson whom he could cling to as he cried.

"Robbie!" David sobbed. "Why did you go? I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He blubbered.

And then it was over as quickly as it had started. David was left brushing tears away, lips trembling, as he stared at the picture of the young, dark-haired boy.

He couldn't put it away. He stood up with Robbie's picture and letter in his hand, ready to close the drawer and leave the room, perhaps never to return. The old photograph caught his eye and David stared at it, frozen.

He wanted so badly to close the drawer and forget about that old picture, wasn't he suffering enough already? He wanted to once again forget about that wretched day, but, staring longer at it, he took it in. The charming face, dark locks falling across his forehead, the bright eyes and boyish grin, all so much like those of his Robbie.

He remembered the jokes, the Christmases, just the happiness of being with his brother, and he couldn't do it. Not again. He'd been running for far too long.

Davey picked up that picture as well before shutting the drawer for good. He moved as quickly as he could down the stairs and into the parlor.

He sat in his chair holding Robbie's letter. At first he'd ran his fingers over the paper. It was Robbie's handwriting, he'd held this paper! Then David read it...and he read it again. He read it to himself over and over. It was better than he could have imagined.

His grandson had forgiven him, he'd written about all the good times they'd had and said that he loved him! He said that he understood why David had been upset, and not to worry because he knew how much his grandfather loved him even if he hadn't said it. David read the letter until it was committed to memory. Then the letter was tucked into his pocket so it would always be with him.

The pictures also found a new home, on the mantle above the fireplace right across from David's armchair where he would be able to see them every day.

There they would stay until the day David could see the boys again face to face.