Unfortunately, this will be my last entry. I’ve been shot. A chest wound, next to my heart. I am using the last of my strength to finish writing this journal. The base was destroyed, and it took their commander down with it. This was the most strategic place to launch an attack for us, and it will clench the war. More people will die because of this, but it will be better they die quickly now, than slowly over the years that were to follow. The only part I regret is that no one will know who did this deed until they find this journal. IF they find this journal. I still don’t think it's possible that anyone could find me here, even if I am dead. Someone else will more than likely take credit for this victory. If irony takes its course, Haskins will be the one. I didn’t do this for him, though he was the one who set me on this course, I did it for people like Jim and Bill. Honest people that are forced to fight and die because the countries are arguing with another one. Knowing the height of relevance that flows through that office, they were probably discussing who spits farther! It reminds me of Gulliver’s Travels, with the Lilliputians going to war. I mostly did this to stop history. Too many long wars have made people like me take this ultimate sacrifice to stop the madness. And every single one of them was pushed by the same kind of sergeant. This is to stop them from creating another Roger Haskins and another not unlike my self. And, if anyone should find this journal, regardless how unlikely that seems to me, I wish a note sent home. The name is on the cover and binding. Tell them, I am sorry. And that with my dieing breathe, I was thinking only of them. Now we can all rest in piece.
YOU ARE READING
An Account of My Days
ContoYou discover a journal lying on the ground all by itself in the middle of the woods. It seems to be in fairly good condition. With a great deal of curiosity, you open the cover and turn to the first page...
