Read the previous letters here:
My Dear Darling,
There has been a change in our plan. Things are not going well and we have been forced to return to out post. The only solace I find in this is that I can write you sooner than I expected to. You might wonder why I am telling you details of our actions. Do not worry, my dear. It is safe for me to write such vague informs that everyone already knows.
On our way back, we had to hunt some game for food. I killed a lovely deer. We could not use our guns for a fear of being heard. So shooting it down was not an option. The amount of stealth and speed it required was tremendous. It was almost like a training exercise. It was grazing so peacefully, quite a sight to look at. I sneaked upon it from behind. I stabbed through it’s neck even before I landed from my leap. The thrill ran high in my blood, until I saw it’s thick red blood gushing from the deep wound. Very soon, I am going to kill people, just like I hunted this little animal down. Somehow, killing another person is wrong, while what I just did is right.
Memories of the people I murdered in the last war surged, draining me of all the excitement. My appetite was gone, as I sit there with the deer wailing in pain, watching the steady flow of blood turn to a slow ooze, making a puddle around it. The stench of blood thickened the air, suffocating me with the memories of active battlefields.
Visions of such gore only led me to think about you, basking under the warm morning sun, singing in your sweet voice. The picture of you sitting on the green meadows, waiting with a smile and a basket of food, swimmed before my eyes. I long for those moments now every time I see food or when I am hungry.
I hope you are not worrying your health by keeping your thoughts on me too much that you refuse to take enough sustenance. Another cold night passes here, with remembered sound of your musical voice.
Soldier in love.