Dear Mom and Dad,
I am sorry I haven’t written in so long, but this letter will explain. First, I want you to know I am fine, now. There is no need to worry about me. I haven’t felt so safe and happy since fighting began. Please understand that and be comforted.
Secondly, I know you and our church have been praying for me and all us service men and women. I have been in a dark place for a long time, now. Yet, many times, especially the scariest times, I could feel God’s love and provision. I knew you were praying for me.
I have seen many parts of England and France, but most of that time was spent marching and fighting. I saw and took part in things I hope someday to be able to forget about or at least be less haunted by. I have also experienced events and met people that I will never forget. In my other letters I talked about those happier things and left out the horrible ones on purpose.
Lastly, comes the explanation for my irresponsibility of failing to write to you. But had I written, I would have had to lie to you or distort the truth or my letters would be destroyed and I punished severely. On one of the many combat missions in the countryside in France, we were overwhelmed by Nazi troops. Too many of my squad were killed. The rest of us captured. I have spent many months in a prisoner of war camp in Germany where I witnessed more horrific things than even I knew from combat duty. Things I cannot erase from my mind but hope to some day if the Lord allows.
I am fine, now. Several days ago, every allied soldier was liberated from the camp, many of them from Australia – really neat and funny and courageous men. I was wounded but it hadn’t healed too
goodwell. I am now in an American evacuation hospital and the doctors and nurses here have me on the mend.
I don’t want to get your hopes up to high but I may be coming home soon.
Love, your son,
Janet Ames hands the letter back to the corporal sitting up in his hospital bunk.
“Well, what do you think? Is it ready to send?” Private Dominique Ferito presses Lieutenant Aimes for a response.
“You’re not going to tell them about how you kept more of your troop from being killed or captured. They’d be really proud of you. I know I am,” Janet Aimes suggests although she can almost predict what he is about to say because she’s heard it from most of the soldiers she’s met.
“I did what I had to do. It’s what I was trained to do. Any one of us soldiers would have done the same.”
Just as Janet had guessed. These soldiers, at least most of them, feel the same. Down deep, she knows they’re proud of what they’ve done and know it’s built their confidence. They do brag about their experiences with other men, though, often exaggerating. It’s almost a contest among them but it’s always done with respect for one another. It’s beautiful to watch and their stories keep her going and doing her duty as well.
“Do you think I said too much? I know my mom is going to worry more than ever, now, especially if she doesn’t hear from me, soon.”
“It will just make her pray more and that can’t be bad. You’ll just have to write every day from now on until you get home.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t send it.”
“Send it, Dom. On second thought, give it to me and I’ll make sure it gets sent.”
Dom teases her with it by offering it up to her and when she reaches for it, pulls it away quickly. He repeats this about two more times until Janet pretends to start to walk away in disgust. When he does finally hand it to her, she swats at him with it and they laugh along with two or three other roommates who have been listening and observing.
In the back of her mind, she wrestles with whether she should have pressed him to add the part about his badly injured leg, but it’s his letter and it’s his news to tell when he’s ready.
Categories: Short Story
I write about what I'm thinking or what I've imagined in an effort to regain that childhood imagination and marry with my many years of real experiences. I'm getting better at it the more I write.I am a published author of two romantic intrigue novels.My books can be found at Amazon.com or if you want a personalized copy, by emailing me at firstname.lastname@example.org.