ADH093
01-29-2006, 05:08 AM
September 3, 2004
Dear Jack,
You haven’t written in a while, I hope you’re all right. Sara misses you. Everyday she comes into the kitchen with this hope in her eyes, like she thinks you’ll be sitting there, and everyday I have to watch that hope fade bit by bit. Please, come home soon. We all miss you.
Love, Jan
September 2, 2004
Jack,
Tom here. How’s it going down there, bro? This may surprise you (it surprised me), but I wish you would come home, just so I can actually hear you make fun of my “wacky” sense of humor.
Seriously, everyone misses you, but I know you feel you have to do this. Just be careful, cause I’ll never forgive you if you die down there.
Still prettier than you,
Tom
September 1, 2004
Dear Son,
How are things down there? I saw something on the news the other day about a helicopter going down in Iraq and I couldn’t sleep. I know we’ve argued, but if you could just send me something so that I know you’re still alive? That news report sort of reminded what you’re facing out there. I just want you to know that your mother and I are proud of the man you’ve become.
With Love,
Jack Sr. & Mary Erins
August 30, 2004
dear daddy,
how are you. mommy says every day you will be home soon but you never are. when are you coming back? i miss you. im scared about mommy. she cries somtimes. i can hear her from my room. she misses you a lot. come back please. i love you.
from sara
August 29, 2004
Somewhere in Iraq…
“Shit!” growled Jack Erins, drawing back from the bullet torn helicopter door.
“Howardson’s down!” yelled someone.
Jack turned. His friend Mark Howardson was lying on his back on the helicopter floor, clutching his side. Blood was running from the bullet wound.
“Oh Jesus oh Jesus oh Jesus,” Howardson was muttering. A medic was crouched next to him.
“He’s lost a lung!” yelled the medic. “I can’t stabilize him, we need to get him back to base.”
“I can’t keep the chopper up!” yelled the pilot. Gunfire from the ground strafed the helicopter. “Erins, would you stop ogling and shoot!” Snapping out of his daze, Jack switched off the safety of his assault rifle and moved toward the door. He never made it.
Jack heard the pilot’s death cry as the tilting chopper’s windshield erupted inward. “Dammit!” roared the medic. “Somebody get on the stick!”
Jack darted into the cockpit and pushed the pilot’s body out of the chair. He grabbed the stick and tried to pull out of the dive, but they were too far in with too much damage. His last thought was for his daughter as his world was absorbed in flames.
September 4, 2004
Dear Ms. Erins,
It is my sad duty to inform you that your husband, Sgt. Jack Erins, died in a helicopter crash six days ago. Sgt. Erins was a good soldier, and he believed in what he was doing. That is all I can ask of a man.
Sincerely,
General Matthew Marshall
THE END
Author’s note: This was created it because we already know what the war is; I hope this helps you think about it on a personal level. This story is fictional, but at the same time it is happening all the time. You can interpret it however you want. But don't forget it.
Dear Jack,
You haven’t written in a while, I hope you’re all right. Sara misses you. Everyday she comes into the kitchen with this hope in her eyes, like she thinks you’ll be sitting there, and everyday I have to watch that hope fade bit by bit. Please, come home soon. We all miss you.
Love, Jan
September 2, 2004
Jack,
Tom here. How’s it going down there, bro? This may surprise you (it surprised me), but I wish you would come home, just so I can actually hear you make fun of my “wacky” sense of humor.
Seriously, everyone misses you, but I know you feel you have to do this. Just be careful, cause I’ll never forgive you if you die down there.
Still prettier than you,
Tom
September 1, 2004
Dear Son,
How are things down there? I saw something on the news the other day about a helicopter going down in Iraq and I couldn’t sleep. I know we’ve argued, but if you could just send me something so that I know you’re still alive? That news report sort of reminded what you’re facing out there. I just want you to know that your mother and I are proud of the man you’ve become.
With Love,
Jack Sr. & Mary Erins
August 30, 2004
dear daddy,
how are you. mommy says every day you will be home soon but you never are. when are you coming back? i miss you. im scared about mommy. she cries somtimes. i can hear her from my room. she misses you a lot. come back please. i love you.
from sara
August 29, 2004
Somewhere in Iraq…
“Shit!” growled Jack Erins, drawing back from the bullet torn helicopter door.
“Howardson’s down!” yelled someone.
Jack turned. His friend Mark Howardson was lying on his back on the helicopter floor, clutching his side. Blood was running from the bullet wound.
“Oh Jesus oh Jesus oh Jesus,” Howardson was muttering. A medic was crouched next to him.
“He’s lost a lung!” yelled the medic. “I can’t stabilize him, we need to get him back to base.”
“I can’t keep the chopper up!” yelled the pilot. Gunfire from the ground strafed the helicopter. “Erins, would you stop ogling and shoot!” Snapping out of his daze, Jack switched off the safety of his assault rifle and moved toward the door. He never made it.
Jack heard the pilot’s death cry as the tilting chopper’s windshield erupted inward. “Dammit!” roared the medic. “Somebody get on the stick!”
Jack darted into the cockpit and pushed the pilot’s body out of the chair. He grabbed the stick and tried to pull out of the dive, but they were too far in with too much damage. His last thought was for his daughter as his world was absorbed in flames.
September 4, 2004
Dear Ms. Erins,
It is my sad duty to inform you that your husband, Sgt. Jack Erins, died in a helicopter crash six days ago. Sgt. Erins was a good soldier, and he believed in what he was doing. That is all I can ask of a man.
Sincerely,
General Matthew Marshall
THE END
Author’s note: This was created it because we already know what the war is; I hope this helps you think about it on a personal level. This story is fictional, but at the same time it is happening all the time. You can interpret it however you want. But don't forget it.