March 13, 2006
I’m writing from Fort Lee here in Virginia. I just caught word that this weekend we’re gonna be deploying overseas again to fight the war. I signed up for the draft last year because I wanted to fight for my country. Ma wasn’t happy. The day I left she said, “You’re no son of mine anymore.” I’m sorry Ma but I’m fulfilling Pa’s dream for me. This will be my second time going over there. I’m writing this diary for you Ma in case I don't make it back from the war. Hopefully, you’ll read it.
May 22, 2006
It’s been 2 months since we came over to Iraq. Mom has been asking me so many questions in her letters about this war but I told her to stop. She doesn’t need to hear about what I’m going through. The other day, my best friend Jack got his legs blown off by an undetected bomb. It was a sight that I’ll never forget. Our sergeant is calling. Got to go.
Oct 23, 2006
Our unit was hit by a bomb about 3 months ago. Only a few other guys and I barely survived. It was bad. Bloodshed and screams filled the smoke around us. They sent us survivors back home. Ma wasn’t quite happy with me. This song was playing today over the radio. It was called Mama. Oh, that Mama wasn’t quite happy her sons went to war! You could hear the venom in her voice. The kids telling the story sounded like me. Losing legs and about how we’re all damned to go to hell for the shit we did with the guns. Their Ma also disowned them once they went to war. Sounds quite familiar. I might be going to hell Ma for what I did but I’ll never let you go.