Dear Emilia,
You may not read this; it probably won’t even reach you. That is, if I send it, I’m undecided.
Half of me wants to leave you to live your life, free of what loving me means. The other half doesn’t know if I can live without you.
I don’t know what to write.
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I miss you.
Always with love,
J
Dear Emilia,
I didn’t send my last letter, and I won’t send this one either.
It’s for your own good, and your own safety.
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I figured out what I need to say to you, though:
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that we are on different sides of this battle. I’m sorry that I can’t change it; I’m sorry I didn’t leave with you when we had the chance.
I’m not sorry that we met, though. I'm not sorry for falling for you.
I’ll never be sorry for that.
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Always with love,
Always with regret,
J
Dear Emilia,
Things are getting hard here.
I’ve been placed into the second battalion. Maybe you’re in second too, or whatever is your army's equivalent. I hope not.
Sometimes, when I squint, I think I see someone in the enemy quarters all those miles away. I think it’s you. I know it isn’t, but the thought warms me.
When I walk along the halls, I find soldiers collapsed, crying; it’s mostly those who were placed in the first battalion. They must charge first, and they surely will die.
I step over them, and continue. I don't know what else to do.
There’s a higher chance of survival for us Seconders. I mean, there's a chance that the First will already have taken out most of the guards, allowing us to cross no-man's land with ease. It doesn’t matter if I die, though, because either way I won’t return home to you.
Your home is far from mine.
Always with love,
J
Dear Emilia,
It has been forty-four days since I last held you in my arms. I wonder if you too have kept count.
Leadership of the Seconders has been assigned to Marcus. You probably don't know him. He's a man from my country through and through, he hates even the mention of the enemy. If he knew what you and I do have done together, he would surely eliminate me on the spot for being a traitor.
Am I a traitor? For simply loving you?
He trains us daily, from four-thirty until twelve, then twelve until five. I don't mind - It keeps my mind off of you.
Marcus says that if we die, we should take it like the soldiers we are, and know that we are dying for our country. I don't think half the people here are truly soldiers, most were forced to enlist just like us. There's a girl here as young as 17, and a boy that I suspect is not older than 15. The leadership do not care; they need soldiers.
I lie in the dark and struggle to sleep as thoughts of you haunt me. No, not a haunting - like a warm, ghostly embrace, disrupted by the knowledge that I will not see you again. I will never feel your arms around me again. I know this love only in memory, and memories fade.
I wish, each night, with all the might left inside me, that when I wake, this battle will have ceased; I dream of two white flags fluttering elegantly, and you waiting for me in-between them.
I must go - a mandatory meeting is being called for the First, Second, and Third battalions.
Always with you,
J
Dear Emilia,
I apologise if my writing is a little shaky.
We have just found out the dates of our attack.
The First will charge tomorrow.
The Seconders will charge the following day.
Yet, the Third will not attack until almost a week has elapsed.
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We all know what this means, though Leadership refuses to admit it. Marcus avoids our eyes- he has spent a week training us to survive, for nothing.
I learnt :
The First Battalion are meant to weaken and distract; they will not come home.
The Second are meant to infiltrate through the wounds made by the First, and to go out fighting; we will not come home.
The Third and final battalion will finish the job, with aid from the Fourth who will follow a day after their departure; both of these units will come home. But I won't. We won't.
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Now the Seconders join the First in disbelief, then anger, and finally, fear and regret in it's purest form.
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Always with love,
Always with honesty,
Always with regret for the times we could've had,
J
Dear Emilia,
I know I've written to you a lot lately. I don't think it matters, you won't ever receive these letters.
I'm imagining that you are lying beside me, on my military bunk, complaining about the lumpy mattress or the thin sheets. I'm imagining your gentle smile.
It hurts.
It hurts that I cannot be with you.
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These letters are as close a way of communication as I have to you. I carry them everywhere, in my pocket.
The First are preparing to leave; I must be with them. I must experience their last hours, their fight. I want to give their deaths as much purpose as this cruel world allows.
I will resume this letter once I return to my dormitory.
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Emilia. My Emilia.
I do not want to write of the things I have seen.
I am sorry if my tears wet this paper.
I heard your name, as I was comforting a man. He has two small daughters who he fears will forget him. He was crying when I heard it, "Emily", floating through the air.
I stood.
I heard it again, "Emily, please". It was your name, but not your voice; this voice belonged to a woman older than you and me.
She is in the Fourth Battalion, but her daughter who shares your name was placed in the First, at only 22 years of age.
"Emily, I'm sorry!" She cried.
"Emily, No! Let me take her place!" She pleaded with the guards at the doors, but they stand emotionless. Her daughter was completely silent, but her eyes spoke volumes more than words ever could. I wish I could describe it, but I am no poet.
I am a solider. This girl, Emily - She is not a soldier. She does not deserve to die.
I shall add her to the list of 'Emily's who I could not save.
The First battalion are heading out as I write.
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I can see the first guards take their places at your fortress. Are you among them?
Maybe you will be the one to kill the other Emily, the daughter. Or perhaps she will be the one to end your life.
Always with love,
Always with fear,
J
Dear Emilia,
It is the morning of the day of our departure. We were woken at sunrise yet left to our own devices.
I think they want us to have as much time to live as possible before they send us to die for our country. Maybe Leadership do have a bit of human left inside them, after all.
News has arrived that the first battalion did not make as much of an impact as they had hoped. This means that the Second must not only infiltrate the enemy walls but also create enough carnage to able to do so.
The current plan is explosives.
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It's a good thing I can't send these, really. I'd be eliminated for being a traitor, and telling the enemy all our secrets.
I've tried, but I do not see you as my enemy. I see you as a blessing - as a piece of pure light and love that whoever crafted this world left upon it. I know that every soldier on the other side is just like you, and just like me. My vow is to kill only if I have no other option.
I should have left with you the minute we got our letters. I should have done this and that, and everything. I want to give you everything, but I cannot.
'YOU HAVE BEEN CALLED TO SERVE YOUR COUNTRY', read my notice, in bold capitals.
YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU: NOW', read yours.
It means the same thing, really, just different ways of going about saying, "We need you to die to protect our pride."
Our countries truly aren't so different, yet their war has torn our worlds apart.
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Emilia, I hope that you win. I hope that your country wins, and that you survive this, because I know that I will not.
I hope that you remember me.
I hope that you love me. Not forever, but long enough. When I die, I don't want my death to stop you from being happy. Please know that.
We're heading out now, and again, I find myself at a loss for what to write.
My dear Emilia, I love you even though we are apart.
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Always with love,
Always with you,
J
Dear Emilia,
I am the soldier who found your partner's body. He clutched these letters to his chest in the last moments of his life; he never made it to our fortress.
My name is Daniel. I will endeavour to return these letters to you - I admit to reading them.
I must confess - I may be the one who shot your lover dead. I don't even know his name, just his first initial. I was on defence that day, the sixth rotation, 8am until 12. When the Second Battalion charged, I shot mindlessly out at them - that's my job. That is the ruthlessness that I have built my life upon.
I have stolen life, and I will spend the rest of my time paying for it, with the guilt that hovers in the back of mind during daytime and creeps out from under my bed at night time.
I will find you, Emilia, whoever you are. I will return to you the essence of your lover.
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I'm sorry for your loss, and inexplicably sorry that I caused it,
Daniel.
Dear James
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I don't know what to write. I've waited years to talk to you again, and now I don't have the words I need to say.
I love you. I love you more than I love the sun in summer, more than I love the way the wind blows each tree just so, more than I love to see a rainbow through the downpour.
Our daughter loves you too, though you have never met. When she is older, I will read your letters to her. She deserves to know the man her father was: brave, brave enough to know the worth of peace.
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I think I knew you were dead even before I found this bundle of papers on my doorstep. I had no confirmation, but I knew that if you had survived you would let me know.
I miss you. I miss you with each day that comes and each dusk that falls. I miss you in each happy moment and each sad one. I miss you when I play with our daughter.
I see you in her. In her eyes, and her laughter.
I named her Jamie.
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I feel no anger for the man who says he killed you. I have killed, too. He brought these letters to me, and they afforded me and our daughter closure.
Thankyou, Daniel.
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This letter is my goodbye - my way of finally putting you to rest. I don't know where to mourn as your body was buried along with all the other unidentified soldiers, in unmarked graves. So, I mourn whenever Jamie cannot see me. She's one now, and my heart bursts with love for her. You'd have loved her, I know that. I'm sorry you were robbed of the future before you even knew she shared your name.
I love you. I have always loved you.
I'm sorry that this cruel world tore us apart.
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Always with love,
Always with you,
Emilia.
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