Infantryman

I'm one of the lucky people who has to commute into work and I've recently taken to using this 'extra time' to work my way through the non-time-sensitive bits of the Saturday paper. All those extra supplements and 'special reports' are a fine distraction from the ringing mobile telephones and quiet snores of my fellow passengers.
This morning however, my quiet contemplation was broken by a piece from Saturday's Guardian Weekend Magazine where letters and e-mails home from troops serving in Iraq had been published. I'm going to deliberately avoid talking about the War and I presence in Iraq because it's a huge argument and one that will rage for a long time to come. Suffice to say that my opinion on it is the same as some and different from others.
I'm recounting this because one particular letter made me cry. Seriously, it made me cry. I had to stare out of the window at grotty old London for ten minutes while I regained my composure (luckily the 09:34 to London Bridge is never busy). I rarely cry over things that others would deem to be 'sad' (something I mentioned here in my 'incontrovertible truths' piece) but this simple letter home from an infantryman to his wife and children got to me.

Summer 2006: an injured soldier dictates a note to his wife, knowing he is not going to survive.
To my most beautiful *******
I am sorry to say that I must break my promise and not come back to you. Jaz is writing this for me and he will hand it to you in person. We have only been married such a short time compared to most and I know you and the kids will miss me but please remember what I said about death. I will always be there with you, always looking after you and smiling at you always.
Tell the kids to look after you and each other and to be brave and that daddy loves them so very much and a HUGE kiss for them both.
To you my sweet lady I thank you for each moment we had together, the laughter we had and the love we have always shared. Remember me but don't mourn me, celebrate what we had. Got to go, I'll be in the mountains where I belong.
Your man Billy