Dear Mom and Dad,
Every day I am reminded of how fragile life is and I swear to God that if I make it through this war, I’ll never take another day for granted. Just last week I lost my close friend Jason. He was just a freshman in college and he didn’t want to be here anymore than I did. He would always try to lighten the mood with his bad singing and hilarious jokes and I’m proud to say that I got to know him very well, as he was a noble soldier. However, when we found out that he had caught ‘the rat disease’, things began to change. He grew weaker and was not able to look out for me anymore, which cost me a shot to the arm. Although I was more worried about his health than the infections I might get from my open wound, I could do absolutely nothing to help his illness. One night Jason’s symptoms got really bad and he didn’t have the strength to eat or stand up. He went three days on one piece of bread and two cups of water. He was tough though, and fought it for as long as he could. We never got to see if he would recover because we got ambushed in the middle of the night and he was the first one shot. The shot punctured his lung and his death was slow and painful. He kept begging me to make the pain stop, but I just couldn’t bring myself to shoot someone who had saved my life so many times before. On his death bed he told me he had a daughter on the way, and he made me promise to go and meet her after I was done serving. I agreed and he died that night in my arms. I buried him in the trench in the same place that he used to sleep.
It’s one thing living in fear of your own life, but I’ve never been as scared for someone more than I was for Jason. Seeing him like that and not being able to help him tore me apart. Some of the soldiers cannot handle the fear and the fact that they have to kill or be killed, which drives them insane. A couple of soldiers have gotten carried away and have become recklessly inhumane. They kill just to kill and are insensitive to the hostages, treating them like they’re the rodents that crawl over their legs at night. It makes me sick to see how these men have changed, and I can only hope that it doesn’t happen to me. I’m happy to report that it has been relatively quiet since Jason’s death and I have hope in escaping this trench sometime soon. I have one more year to serve before I get to return home as you know, and I’m counting the days to see you again and return to my normal life at the factory.
Your Son,
John
Every day I am reminded of how fragile life is and I swear to God that if I make it through this war, I’ll never take another day for granted. Just last week I lost my close friend Jason. He was just a freshman in college and he didn’t want to be here anymore than I did. He would always try to lighten the mood with his bad singing and hilarious jokes and I’m proud to say that I got to know him very well, as he was a noble soldier. However, when we found out that he had caught ‘the rat disease’, things began to change. He grew weaker and was not able to look out for me anymore, which cost me a shot to the arm. Although I was more worried about his health than the infections I might get from my open wound, I could do absolutely nothing to help his illness. One night Jason’s symptoms got really bad and he didn’t have the strength to eat or stand up. He went three days on one piece of bread and two cups of water. He was tough though, and fought it for as long as he could. We never got to see if he would recover because we got ambushed in the middle of the night and he was the first one shot. The shot punctured his lung and his death was slow and painful. He kept begging me to make the pain stop, but I just couldn’t bring myself to shoot someone who had saved my life so many times before. On his death bed he told me he had a daughter on the way, and he made me promise to go and meet her after I was done serving. I agreed and he died that night in my arms. I buried him in the trench in the same place that he used to sleep.
It’s one thing living in fear of your own life, but I’ve never been as scared for someone more than I was for Jason. Seeing him like that and not being able to help him tore me apart. Some of the soldiers cannot handle the fear and the fact that they have to kill or be killed, which drives them insane. A couple of soldiers have gotten carried away and have become recklessly inhumane. They kill just to kill and are insensitive to the hostages, treating them like they’re the rodents that crawl over their legs at night. It makes me sick to see how these men have changed, and I can only hope that it doesn’t happen to me. I’m happy to report that it has been relatively quiet since Jason’s death and I have hope in escaping this trench sometime soon. I have one more year to serve before I get to return home as you know, and I’m counting the days to see you again and return to my normal life at the factory.
Your Son,
John
Picture Citation: http://www.isfeldbc.com/remember/ottawa3.jpg
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