This is possibly one of the saddest things I have ever read in my entire life. This was written by a soldier (Sullivan Bellue) on his way into battle during the American Civil War in the 1860's to his wife (Sarah).
Letter from Sullivan Bellue
1st Bull Run/Manassas -
To his wife Sarah, Smithfield, Rhode Island
Major Sullivan Bellue
2nd Rhode Volunteers
July 14, 1861 - Washington, D.C.
Dear Sarah;
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days, perhaps tomorrow. And lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye, when I am no more. I have no misgivings about or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how American civilization now leans upon the triumph of the government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the revolution. And I am willing, perfectly willing, to lay down all my joys in this life to help maintain this government. And to pay that debt.
Sarah, my love for you is depthless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence can break, and yet my love of country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly with all those chained to the battlefield. The memory of all the blissful moments I have enjoyed with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you, that I have enjoyed them for so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes and future years when God willing we might still have lived and loved together, and see our boys grown up to honourable manhood around us.
If I do not return, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I loved you, nor that when my last breathe escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you, how thoughtless, how foolish I have sometimes been. But oh Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be with you in the brightest day and the darkest night. Always, always. And when the soft breeze spans your cheek, it shall be my breath, or the cool air at your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not morn me dead, think I am gone, and wait for me. For we shall meet again
Sullivan Bellue was killed at the 1st Battle of Bull Run. One week after writing this letter.