Dear Soldier...I'm asking for your life
Dear soldier. I am sending you on a mission.
It will require bravery and honorable heroics. It will require a cool head and clear judgment but most of all, it will require your life.
This is the kind of mission where your medals will be sent to your relatives. The kind of mission where your name’s carved on a plaque, your fiancée marries another man and the memory of you fades to a child’s bedtime story.
This is the mission where the general sits back and lets his men lose their lives so that he can go back home to visit his family while your family visits the morgue.
This is a mission where a parent will experience the death of their child; where they will see the little boy they raised lying on a cold slab in the name of their country, in the name of honor, in the name of peace.
This mission will see your wives husbandless and your children fatherless.
Families will be torn apart.
Brothers lose brothers.
Friends lose friends.
Fathers lose sons.
This is a mission where the end result leaves an empty space which you used to fill. It will leave your locker empty, your diary unused and your bedside made up.
It will leave a broken woman weeping for her man. It will leave fathers pining for their children and mates staring at the empty seat that used to contain you.
You will no longer be a regular in the pub. You will no longer be a being, just a name on the wall. A person that once existed and died in the name of honor.
And so my dear soldier this is the mission I am sending you on. Atone for your sins and leave your families.
Come and die under a bloody sky.
Come and die on a body riddled ground.
Fight the battle with all your friends but die alone on the field.
This is your final mission.
It will require bravery and honorable heroics. It will require a cool head and clear judgment but most of all, it will require your life.
This is the kind of mission where your medals will be sent to your relatives. The kind of mission where your name’s carved on a plaque, your fiancée marries another man and the memory of you fades to a child’s bedtime story.
This is the mission where the general sits back and lets his men lose their lives so that he can go back home to visit his family while your family visits the morgue.
This is a mission where a parent will experience the death of their child; where they will see the little boy they raised lying on a cold slab in the name of their country, in the name of honor, in the name of peace.
This mission will see your wives husbandless and your children fatherless.
Families will be torn apart.
Brothers lose brothers.
Friends lose friends.
Fathers lose sons.
This is a mission where the end result leaves an empty space which you used to fill. It will leave your locker empty, your diary unused and your bedside made up.
It will leave a broken woman weeping for her man. It will leave fathers pining for their children and mates staring at the empty seat that used to contain you.
You will no longer be a regular in the pub. You will no longer be a being, just a name on the wall. A person that once existed and died in the name of honor.
And so my dear soldier this is the mission I am sending you on. Atone for your sins and leave your families.
Come and die under a bloody sky.
Come and die on a body riddled ground.
Fight the battle with all your friends but die alone on the field.
This is your final mission.