Letter Home

This is a new post in which I write a letter from the point of view of a soldier who is writing home to his family. Though, I can't say I have any experience in the military, nor do I personally know someone who does, I have tried to take what I learned from the readings and movies that we watched in class and apply it to this fictional letter.

Dear Mom and Dad,

It’s about 1 o’clock at night and I’m sitting outside the barracks unable to sleep. I’ve been coming out here a lot lately, staring at the sky and thinking. It’s oddly peaceful at this time of night. It’s ironic that peace exists at all in this country. If only the insurgents of this country and the government of ours could come out here in the dark of the night and appreciate the peace. Maybe then, this war might be a little closer to being done. I’m finding it harder and harder to keep up my strength and morale lately. I’ve been here for exactly eleven months and nine days and I don’t feel as though I’ve accomplished anything. I came here full of idealism, but now it’s as though cynicism occupies most of my thoughts. I remember I thought that this life would be exciting, full of achievement and glory. I remember thrill and adrenaline I felt as my hands first held that sleek rifle. I remember the sense of purpose that came from the power I received with the rifle. I remember the optimism with which I entered the army. It’s different now. My hands feel heavy with the blood of those that I’ve killed. My heart feels angst as I realize that I have no purpose here. All I can think about is home. Mom, I remember the last time that I talked to you. I remember the melody that rang from your voice, as you chided me for not writing more often. The truth is that I write you every night, but I seldom send the letters. This is probably another one that I won’t actually send. I can’t bring myself to send letters from a man that I’m no longer proud of being. I don’t want you to know the man that I’ve become.

Love,
John