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Dear Knut

It’s hard to believe it has been 4 months already. I hope you are okay. Do you get your usual four meals a day? Remember you are a big boy. Your father and I have been so worried. He talks about you all the time. Every morning for the last month he stands in the kitchen window, waiting for the mailman to arrive. But a message from you never came. Not until yesterday. It was really a relief when the little postcard from you came with the post man the previous day. Ever sins I saw the skip with my only 17 years old son leave the quay, I’ve been counting the minutes until the boat arrives with my son. You know the draw in my bedside table. It is now filled with letters for you. But I couldn’t deliver them because I didn’t know your address. I didn’t know where in the world you were. To be honest I doubted that you ever arrived to America. When you first told me that you wanted to go from little Norway all the way to the worlds most powerful country, I was a bit skeptic. But you wanted to follow your dream, and I couldn’t stop you from doing that. Even dough neither the neighbor boy nor your cousin in Trondheim, came back when they was boarding the ship of hope and dreams, I had to believe that you did. I still hope you will. And when you finally do, your father and I will be here waiting for you. I want you to know that a warm bed is always waiting for you back home in Norway.

Speaking of bed, your grandmother is still lying in one. But I can assure you that she has not forgot about you. She may forget to put her teeth in at the morning, but she never forgets her favorite grandson. Her health is getting worse and the doctor fear this can be her last winter. Tuberculosis is a deadly disease you know. But I have still faith in her. She has always been so strong. Is tuberculosis just as big problem in America as it is in Norway? I hope you are in good health. Oh, I almost forgot. Your father was recently promoted at work. He is no almost a factory manager. Well, he likes to think so. This is the second week in the new job and he feels comfortable in it. He is now talking about building a bigger house, and gets some servants. I have to pull him back to the earth now and then.

Besides writing letters fore you, I’m planning a party. It’s your sister birthday tomorrow, you know. So there is always a cake to bake. I use the old recipe from my mother. You’re favorite. I have bought her a present from you. That will make her so happy.

I hope you will be happy there, and I longing to here from you again. Everybody here tells me to say hello, and that they misses you.

Take care.

You’re Mother.

Dear mother.

I have received all your letters. It has been one of the few bright spot here, reading about the life back home. I’m sorry I haven’t written any letters for you earlier. But I am writing one now. It has been very busy hour here at the start of the military camp Much of the time we have been practice. Exercise and training for the real war I know I soon will participate in. It is torture being here day out and day in, waiting for a message from the sergeant. An enabling signals that we now are a part of the war. Signal that we now are ready to fight. In four months we have been preparing and waiting fore this. Four months have felt like a year. It’s as the time has stopped. Every day is the same. They wake us up at daybreak, and shout at us all the time. Make your bed, shine your shoes, fold your clothes, and eat your meals. Every message is given whit a scream from the officers. And that is only the indoor activity. Once we are outdoors they shout even lauder. Run for cover, stand still, aim your weapon and shoot the enemy. A please would be nice once in a while. The food taste like mud, but I have never eaten so much. I am hungry all the time still. It must be all the training.

Even when I know real war is dangerous and horrible I find my self looking forward to get into action. I want to use all that I have learned. I said that to the sergeant in my platoon. He got furious. He has been in real war action several times. And he has been wounded two times. Once in his leg, and once in his head. The shot in the head almost killed him. He told me that war isn’t a game, and he told me that actually war action is very frightening.

I have found a lot of new friends. And we often go to the nearest town when we have some spare time. There is a bar we use to visit. We drink beers and tell stories from back home. I recon we all long home, but nobody wants too admit it.

I promised you that I would be careful, and I intend to be that. I will fight for my country, but I am not willing to give my life for this war. I don’t even know what the war is for.

Send my love to the rest of the family, and tell my little brother that he shall not get use to sleep in my room. When I come back I want my room back as well.

Your son.