A man in a blue coat, with a gun on his back, was walking down the road toward the Smith farm. His face was hidden by a large pack on his back. Laughing and crying, Misses Smith grabbed her hat and her children and ran out of the house. She hurried down the road after him, calling his name and pulling her children along with her. But the soldier was too far away for her voice to reach him. When she got back to their farm, she saw the man standing by the fence. He was looking at the little house and the field of yellow wheat. The sun was almost touching the hills in the west. The cowbells rang softly as the animals moved toward the barn. "How peaceful it all is," Private Smith thought. "How far away from the battles, the hospitals, the wounded and the dead. My little farm in Wisconsin. How could I have left it for those years of killing and suffering?" Trembling and weak with emotion, Misses Smith hurried up to her husband. Her feet made no sound on the grass, but he turned suddenly to face her. For the rest of his life, he would never forget her face at that moment. "Emma!" he cried. The children stood back watching their mother kissing this strange man. He saw them, and kneeling down he pulled from his pack three huge, red apples. In a moment, all three children were in their fathers arms. Together, the family entered the little unpainted farmhouse. Later that evening, after supper, Smith and his wife went outside. The moon was bright, above the eastern hills. Sweet, peaceful stars filled the sky as the night birds sang softly, and tiny insects buzzed in the soft air. His farm needed work. His children needed clothing. He was no longer young and strong. But he began to plan for next year. With the same courage he had faced the war, Private Smith faced his difficult future.