Journal Entry

6th October 1917. Today my mate Don died in the field hospital right before my eyes. But before he left he told me something and i don't know how to feel about it. He was one of those scabs. He took my father's job. My father was a miner in Waihi before they went on Strike. The strike was both a peaceful and dangerous time. Black Tuesday was a scary time for me. I was sad to hear about Fred evans death. He was a good friend of my fathers. Don told me that he was against the scabs, the day we meet. But all along he was with them. We have been fighting together for a bit now and never, has he once told me until now. Should i ever forgive him? Will i ever forgive him?

I don't think war is going to solve much. War should never be the answer for anything. It's a horrible way to live and end your life. When is this going to end?