VOSHN 340

<body><a href="../index.html">HOME</a><br><table summary="318"><tr><td class="etesti">318</td><td class="edate">After late August, 1945.</td><td class="eage">22 years old at that time</td></tr><tr><td class="ei_midasi" colspan=3>Would he come back,  I wondered?</td></tr></table><div class="large"><p>My husband's father gathered wood in the ruins of a fire and built a barrack.  It was almost same size as a  6-mat room.  Since it was built by an amateur, it wasn't comfortable to live in.  It was a square-shaped barrack like a loafer lived in.  We lived in it.</p><br><p>We had rain, and bedclothes got wet on a heavy rainy day.  We spread bed clothes on the ground, so they was dripping wet.  It was terrible.  The floor was just only what some narrow boards were laid, so from cracks in boards, water of rain penetrated and bed clothes absorbed water and got wet.</p><br><p>Even under such a circumstance, I thought my missing husband might come back and I kept waiting for him in the barrack.  "Would he come back," I wondered?  "Would he come back," I wondered?</p></div></body>