Letter From the Battlefield

October 19th, 1863

Dear Joana, 

Are you well? 

I miss your voice every morning

I miss the house

I miss the yard

I miss the kids

Are they well?

Tell them I'll be home soon

I shot a man this morning

I ended another human being's life

They said I should be proud

I should feel accomplished

But how can I tell the kids it's wrong to kill,

That it's something that they should never do?

The blood does not wash off one's hands

One's soul

One's being

There is no undoing

One human

Destroying another

It is a feeling I am new to

I do not care for it

I have not a taste for blood

The battlefield is huge

Huge is an understatement

We are synchronized as one

Marching step by step

When I face the enemy,

I see another human

I wonder if that's what the other soldiers see,

Or if they take more pride in killing than I

I enjoy the company of one soldier, however

He and I tell stories by the fire late at night when the battle has ceased

He has some interesting tales

I don't want you to worry about me

I will survive

Tell the kids

I'll be home

I promise

I'll be home

I like my home life far too much to die

So don't fret 

I'll always come home

Tell Margo and John I love them

And I miss them

Don't let them cry for me

Tell them I'll be home

With love,

Private Nathaniel Keegan