Dear Clairse,
I'm sure you got the notification of my extension, and I wanted to say I'm sorry...again. But it's not doing too well where I am. We have to take shifts for having a guard look out for any suspicions, and they always choose me for some reason. I feel like I am not good enough. Like they give me the simplest job because they think that's all I'm good at. And they are so rude, but I know that it's to toughen us weaklings up. When we were back at base, we would pass out care packages out to the other soldiers, after they are already opened. My dad sent me some food, snacks and stuff, and I didn't even get a taste. The general ate it right in front of my face.
People have already changed. I can tell because the personality of my comrades shifted drastically, they are completely different people. I don't know anyone anymore. I'm surprised PTSD hasn't already happened to me yet. They already had to send people home because of it, and so far it's us versus the war.
And the war is winning.
I hate it here, I really do, so does everyone else. I think of it as a depressing place of misery and torture. Maybe not all of it, but just this specific area were located in. Now I can't tell you exactly where I am, it's classified, but I'll tell you this: never let go. Don't let my absence bring you down. Pretty soon I'll be home before you know it. And instead of thinking of me, just think of all the fun times we had and all we've did together. Like that time I took you to the amusement park. Remember when the Ferris wheel got stuck and we were at the top? You clung on to me like it was the end of the world, and it was only the brakes that got jammed. Your fingers were latched on so tightly to my jacket, there were impressions on it when you finally let go. And when the ride finally moved, we both lurched forward in our seats, causing our cart to swing. Now it seems like they might have been our last trip on that ride, because there is a good chance I won't be making it out of this place. It's hard to explain what's going on right now, you have to be here to fully understand it. And by the way, I'm sorry I can't be there for Christmas, but just know that you always are in my mind.
Merry Christmas,
Jace
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Dear Jace | U.S. Army
General FictionIn which a young girl writes a journal of letters to her true love serving in the Army overseas in Afghanistan. *** Clarise had absolutely no military experience and didn't know what to expect when her boyfriend, Jace, told her that he was enlistin...
