Robert Grant III
1st Sgt. 20th Regiment Massachusetts Infantry
Nancy, Kentucky
January 19, 2017
My Dearest Maria,
I write to you with a heavy heart. I fear that the upcoming days may be my last. This war has been deadlier than I could even imagine. I hope not to worry you, my lovely wife. Though you must have feared that this fateful day would come when you married a Civil War reenactor.
Like my father before me and his father before him, it is my family’s tradition to serve our glorious country. Granted, as long as they’re non-violent reenactments of wars that already happened.
I believe that it is a miracle that I am writing to you now, in this Starbucks. Since it's only five minutes away from where, earlier today at the Battle of Mill Springs Reenactment, I nearly pretended to die.
The piercing sound of smoke humming from the espresso machine is reminiscent of the gunfire from earlier this afternoon. It’s almost like I am there now on the battlefield. I hear gunshots, imaginary bullets are whizzing past me. I feel the weight of a fellow soldier as I hold him my arms as he plays possum. The scream a man makes when he sprains his ankle on the uneven soil will haunt me until the end of my days. My lovely Maria, I hope your delicate, blue eyes never lay upon the horrors of war reenactments.
But I mimicked bravely and will live to fight another day. The same could not be said for my brothers in arms who perished or had to leave early to handle an emergency at work.
I snuck away from my fellow patriots to write to you, my love. Morale back at camp is low. In an attempt to lift our spirits, we share stories of our other simulated heroic adventures. Fantasy football victories, Dungeon and Dragons quests; all have been tossed around the campfire like logs into the flames, keeping us warm. We know not when our next meal will come. We ordered some pizzas, like, two hours ago and word from camp says they still haven’t arrived.
While I’ve been away from your warm embrace, sure I’ve been tempted. On the night of my arrival, some of the guys and I went down to a local strip club. But I promise Maria, my sweet wife, I kept my vows that I hold O’ so dear. We will talk about that $307 credit card statement when I get home.
I must leave now, Maria. I need my rest for tomorrow’s fight. If this is our last letter, tell our children that I love them dearly. Kiss them goodnight and tell them their father will return. And to you, O’ sweet Maria, whom I love with all my heart, to return home and to see you again is what I am truly fighting for.
Your Loving Husband,
Robert Grant III
1st Sgt. 20th Regiment Massachusetts Infantry
P.S. Could you DVR Sunday Night Football for me? I forgot to do that before I left.
