He is my soldier. She is my Indian.

Chapter 5- Jackson

Chapter 5- Jackson

Dear mother,

It is one month until Christmas. The army is moving to the abandoned outskirts of Jamestown.

Many of the men have decided on bringing their families. I believe it is too much of a risk.

Why would they bring their children and loved ones into lands so close to the savages? I will not put my family in danger as they do.

I have gained a place among my men. Men in higher ranks have taken me in. My opinion is valued among them and I am trusted.

Mother, I must end my letter here. I have much to do before we depart.

Give everyone love, and keep your son in your prayers.

Love,

Jackson.

********

I folded the delicate piece of paper and placed it in my pocket.

There was no guarantee my letter would ever be seen by my mother's eyes.

Would she ever know of the many letters I have hand written only to be lost in the masses of other letters?

Thousands of letters written to thousands of family members. How many of the thousands would ever be received? I could only pray that my letter wouldn't contribute to the growing pile that never sees the light of day again.

I walked out of the canteen where I usually compose my letters. The base is grimy and dirty, but today it is better than normally. We have moved much for our journey.

The soldiers sugarcoat our lives. We tell our families that things are bad, but they have no real idea of the...there isn't even a word to describe they way we live. It's filthy. It's disgusting.

Hopefully our new base will be an improvement. Though to be an improvement compared to this dump would not be a difficult accomplishment.

I mostly kept my head down on my way to the tent where the letters are sent out. I knew what my eyes would land upon if I choose to gaze out.

Hope. The men believe that it is safe to bring their families. I am not among the men that believe this.

Why would they trust to have their families among savages?

I fear for their lives. The lives of their children.

I finally came to the tent that I was in search of. I pulled the tent flap back and entered. The old man looked up and nodded as to acknowledge my presence.

"Hello Jackson. Same place as always?"

I nodded and handed my letter over. He reached out his wrinkled hands to receive the letter.

Johnson was an old man who was on his last trip. He was a short slim man that wore a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. He was a sweet but had no family.

"Do I have any letters?"

I asked the same question every day. Every day it was the same answer. "No sorry Jackson. Maybe tomorrow." Johnson gave me a look that was full of sympathy. He reached down into the bag that contained the many letters.

Letters were officially given out every Thursday of each week, but if you were liked you could get Johnson to give you yours early.

I hated only being able to know if I had a letter once a week so I quickly made friends with Johnson. He was easy to befriend and a great friend to have.