The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

“I’ll make sausages.” This brought a smile.
The sausages tasted odd. War sausages. Mostly oatmeal, I thought but
didn’t say. I wondered what sort of meat was actually in them.
We did the dishes and got dressed. We could hear planes taking off from
the airfield, one after another. Dozens of planes. We went outside to watch
them. They flew out toward the ocean and didn’t come back.
“I want to go talk to the pilots,” Jamie said.
“Not today,” I told him. “They’re busy.”
He nodded. “They’re strafing the Germans.”
We stood watching the planes for a little while. I itched to be useful, like
Susan. I knew I could do something.
Jamie looked at me piteously. “We can’t just stay here,” he said.
“No.” Suddenly I knew what we could do. “You’re going to go to Fred’s,”
I said. “You’ll help him in my place. I’m going to the village.”
Jamie started to protest, but I cut him off. “I’m a junior WVS member,” I
said, making it up on the spot. “Lady Thorton expects me to do my duty, like
a soldier. I expect you to do yours.”
Jamie’s eyes widened. He nodded.
“And you’ll stay with Fred until Susan or I come for you,” I said. “He’s to
feed you, and if we don’t come tonight you’re to sleep there. Tell him I said
so.”
Jamie nodded. “Can I take Butter?”
“Of course.” He rode Butter around the field often enough. I helped him
saddle and bridle the pony.
After that I put on my sky-blue dress. I plaited my own hair. I stuffed a
pillowcase full of the cloth scraps Susan was supposed to be sewing into
bandages, and I took my crutches and set off for town.
I saw the newsreels later. They didn’t upset me, not when I’d already
helped Dunkirk soldiers firsthand. But those newsreels showed a lie. In them,
the soldiers evacuating Dunkirk looked tired, but happy. Under their tin hats
their faces were dirty, but their eyes shone bright. They grinned and waved
and gave thumbs-ups to the camera. Stalwart British fighters, heroic and
grateful to be home.
Maybe there were soldiers like that somewhere. The ones in our village
were shot, dead or dying; others were sick from the long terrible retreat, the