Last Letter

 

 

As I write this letter, my physical body is in great pain.  The drugs

that were given me have dulled its sharpness, and provided a degree

of detachment, but the pain is still there.   Yet I do not think

that I have ever experienced such joy in my entire existence.  I

know my purpose in life.  I now know what I was born to do.

 

Every soldier lives with the knowledge that his life may be forfeit.

That someday he would be asked to give his life as part of the

mission.  The only thing that he can hope for, is that his death is

not in vain.  Ever since I became a member of the Specials, I have

lived in constant fear of a wasted death.  A wasted life.

 

My fears are gone now.

 

Do you remember the first time we served together?  I do.  It was

summer in Bangkok.  You lead our company as we patrolled the

sweltering jungle.  I knew your reputation, but I did not think I

could bring myself to trust a man who was not willing to show his

face to his comrades.  Even in the oppressive heat, you never took

off your mask.  I think I hated you back then, until that day when

half our company was killed in the rebel ambush.

 

I was amazed by the calm you showed when all hell was breaking loose,

and at the way you rallied our company, and organized a desperate

counter-attack.  You earned my respect.  In the aftermath of that

harrowing experience, our small group of survivors shared a common

bond, and I grew to know you as a man, not simply a CO.  You told me

of your childhood, the shattered kingdom, and your desire for revenge.

 You called it revenge, but I saw it as home sickness.  My own home

town also was destroyed in war.  Where my father's house once stood

proud is now only a pile of rubble.  Though your words were sparse

and without emotion, I understood how you felt.

And I think I know why you hide your face.

 

By the time you read this, I will be gone.  Don't be sad for me.  I

have seen horrors and experienced hell in this war, but I also had

the opportunity to meet you.  I consider it a great privilege.  Know

that I was proud to serve with you, and to call you my commander. 

Know that I am prouder still, to be able to offer my life to you in

this way. 

 

When the war is at last over, build a kingdom for me.  Throw away

your mask, and lead the world in the way only you know how.  I'll

consider it a memorial of sorts, and be grateful.

 

Long Live the King of Sank.

 

Your friend,

Otto

 

The end