Epilogue

When Frau Merhoff opened the tattered, blood-stained envelope, her hands were trembling violently. The Iron Cross spilled out onto her palm, and she felt the tears rolling down her cheek. With stifled sobs, she unfolded the single leaf of paper from within and began to read the rigid, soldier-like writing.

Frau Merhoff,

It is with the deepest grief that I am writing this letter. Your husband has died in the field of combat. His last words were orders to defend, to stay and fight—words that are worthy of any fine soldier. I can only hope, when my time comes, that I can die with the same courage that Jonas lived with.

Death is a natural part of life, whether there is war or peace. You cannot blame this war for your loss, nor the enemy for your grief. The decision Jonas made to serve his country came with a risk, and he knew only to well the dark fate of a soldier. To have the courage to take such a gamble reveals an uncontrollable fact of nature—a man will die to protect his home and his family.

In the past six years, a lesson has been taught to all of Mankind, a lesson paid for in blood. Soldiers sacrifice everything today so that their people can enjoy tomorrow. Even now, I am sitting at a desk in a home outside Florence, wondering if we will live to see the light of tomorrow, or if this letter will ever find its way to your hands.

All men fear death, Frau Merhoff, but not all men value life. As a soldier, I have come to enjoy every minute of life—every meal, every breath of air, every word, every new day. War cannot teach men how to die, but it can teach them how to live.

It has been my greatest honor to serve under Jonas Merhoff. I pray that God grants your husband the thing I have come to long for most—peace.

Leutnant Jaguer Metz,

1st Fallschirmjäger Division