War Letter

Dear Mother,

Things have been going rather normal since I last wrote to you, but then again, the definition of normal changes frequently around here. We’ve been marching for quite a long way and I no longer feel the pain on my feet. The sun has made my skin a darker color and a rougher texture, and I could do with a little rain. Walking through mined fields and evading getting shot has now become part of the daily life routine, and I’ve become used to the in-war environment. I have to tell you, Mother, it is a whole different world out here, not to set you off or anything but I admit my stomach has had quite a hard time growing used to the stuff you see around here. It’s mostly the shock and reality of it what’s so new, it just doesn’t feel like real life. You’d think it was a movie.

Anyway, the mates back here are all very nice and we share stories from back home, some are friendlier than others but everyone has got their own charm. You’ve got the funny one, the big strong one, the cynical one, the friendly one, the annoying one, and the surprisingly energetic one. We share the burden of carrying the heavy tech and watch out for each others’ backs. I’ve become well acquainted with Zach, a 20 year-old from Texas, and Paul, a 21 year-old from Arizona. Most of us have got a special item that we carry with us, just like I’ve got that handmade bracelet you gave to me when I was five, the chaps here have their own lucky charms. Zach, for example, has got a small yarn ball his younger sister sent to him.

I’d love to tell you that everything is going calm here, but you’d know I’d be lying. About three days ago we encountered a small group of mercenaries walking out and about the outskirts of a small town. At first we were ordered to keep a low profile and wait for the right time to attack but Zach panicked. He fired all too quickly and we had to back him up. Later on, for safety, we searched the village for any other signs of hostile activity.

But enough about war, I know it sets you off. There’s nothing much new to tell, though, and so I wait for your reply and you can tell me how everything is back home. Tell me about your latest days, what you’ve been up to and all sorts of town business. Tell Dad I love him, and to keep out of my room, when I come back I want everything how I left it. I love you and miss you terribly.

Take care,

Juli

             

  I chose to write to my mom because she is the closest member of my family, she’s always been there for me and we share a very strong bond. I always go back to her for advice and for comfort, so it would be very weird for me not to write to her if I were in such situation. I would tell her the truth about things, she knows very well when I lie, but I’d only talk about what she would ask. I wouldn’t tell her all about how I’ve been around shooting civilians and burning down towns for her sake; I know she wouldn’t take it. In a way, I also wouldn’t want her to think of me as a killer, although I’d be at war which obviously means that at some point I’d have to kill someone, it’s better to not say it. We would both know what I’d done, but not saying it directly makes it better. In this letter I have hidden the fact that the whole town was trashed and burned down. She doesn’t need to know that, and like I said before, I wouldn’t want her to think of me as a killer of innocent people. I also didn’t tell her Zach was wounded in the middle of his panic shooting and that because of this, we were ordered to fire at will. I wouldn’t tell her about how one of our soldiers got blown off by a mine, and I certainly wouldn’t tell her about the blisters and wounds that covered my body because it would hurt her more than what it would hurt me. So while I wouldn’t lie to her, I wouldn’t tell her stuff she didn’t need to know, unless she asked particularly about something.