The Wild Dominion Boy
Copyright© 2026 by Publandlady
Chapter 4: The Great War for Civilization
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Great War for Civilization - Uprooted from rural Dorset as a child, Jack Barnesfield is given a second chance when he is taken in by a farming family in Ontario. As he grows to manhood, war, love and old grievances shape his life. From the trenches of the Great War to the quiet fields of Canada, Jack journeys in search of justice, only to learn that the things of the past are sometimes best left in the past.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Farming Historical Military War Cheating Cuckold Pregnancy Voyeurism
The outside world rarely encroached upon the farm. If they desired anything from the world, they had to go and make contact with the world.
Whenever possible, Murray restricted this contact to their few visits to Waterloo.
When Danny was seven, the four of them loaded the wagon (for the last three years Murray had been considering the purchase of a truck but he wasn’t the sort of man to buy anything on impulse. He thought that he would give it another couple of years before deciding). On the wagon was everything that they had for sale. Hilda carried a list of all the things that they needed to buy. It was important to get everything as this October would be their last visit before winter set in fully.
As they pulled into the town, they were astounded to find six or seven officers of the Ontario Provincial Police as well as two Royal North-West Mounted Policemen on horseback. Jack had heard of both organisations but this was the first time he had actually seen any of them. If he was completely honest, he was disappointed that the horsemen were wearing dark blue uniforms. He smiled as he recalled Nipper and Grub’s animated conversations on the subject of their red tunics all those years ago.
“Hey Mrs Gardener,” said Murray, as he drew alongside an old townswoman,” has there been a crime?”
She looked at him oddly before the penny dropped. She said, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard. The Empire is at war with Germany. The police are rounding up what they are calling ‘enemy aliens’. It’s disgusting, our German neighbours mainly left Germany to become free Canadians.
“The only test they are using is whether someone speaks German or has a German name!”
Without a word Murray slowly turned the wagon towards home. Unfortunately, the road was blocked by one of the police horsemen. As they drew alongside the Constable the man raised his hand to stop them.
“Leaving?” the man enquired.
“Sure,” said Murray, “I can’t see that there’ll be much bartering here today. We often trade with these folks and they all seem like decent people to me.”
“That has been my experience too, but we have orders from Ottawa.
“And what would your name be, friend?”
“I’m Murray McMurray, my family have lived north of here for generations. Why do you ask?”
“Can’t get a more Canadian name than that. Who do you have with you today?” said the man, declining to answer the question.
“This is my wife, Mrs McMurray and these are my sons Jack and Dan McMurray.”
The Constable hesitated before asking a delicate question, “You’ll forgive me Ma’am, but you look a trifle young to have a son of that boy’s age.”
In her best Canadian accent, Hilda replied, “Thank you. Jack is the product of my husband’s first marriage.”
“Ah, I guess that you’ll be keen to sign up and serve your King. I should hurry if I were you, they reckon it will all be over by Christmas,” said the officer to Jack.
“No he won’t!” exclaimed Hilda.
Jack replied, “I don’t know. Would I get to go to England? I would like to see England.”
“No doubt about that,” reassured the horseman.
Murray knew that he would get his ears torn off by Hilda but he was aware that life on a farm could be awfully constricting for a young man, nevertheless he said, “It would be your choice but it could be a great opportunity for you.”
“That sergeant from the Provincial Police is acting as a recruiter, have a word with him,” said the Constable, pointing towards a group of men.
After six weeks of basic training at Valcartier Camp in Quebéc, Jack made the perilous winter voyage to England. He impressed his instructors. Compared to most recruits, he was physically fit and was a good shot. Despite assurances that he would see the world, the only part of Quebéc he had seen was the camp.
Men had their hammocks slung together like bunches of bananas with no space between them. The ship rolled and the infantryman rolled with it. It was nothing like his first transatlantic journey.
Jack saw very little of England either. They were sent to Salisbury Plain to complete their training. This mostly consisted of trench digging, bayonet fighting, and learning how to not get gassed.
It galled Jack to know that Lytchett Matravers was so close. Some vague notion in his head had hoped that he would see his grandmother and his first love again. A darker part of him clung onto the idea of retribution against those that had wronged him so many years before.
For the first time in his life, Jack was earning pay. Well over thirty dollars a month. He had arranged a Voluntary Allotment of ten dollars of this to be sent home. Nevertheless, the remainder (paid in Sterling) was far more than he could spend. Particularly as Jack was unable to go anywhere to spend it.
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