It hurts. It hurts so much. I remember when the call came for volunteers. I was so eager to go and fight for my home and my family and my land. I know my beloved wife will be crying for days when she finds out about this. I can remember the day when I volunteered for my local regiment. At first she was angry, very angry actually. I can never recall her looking so angry in all the years I have known her. After we sent our young son to bed, I sat down and talked to her about it and found out why she was angry. She knew, maybe before anyone else did, that this war was to be more brutal than anything any American on this Continent had seen before. No matter what was starting this fight, she wanted me to stay home. I said, "What if the enemy comes to us and I could do nothing to stop them?" She just cried even more. Eventually she understood and saw me off to the train to take me to the local training camp. She wrote me every day. I could not get those letters as soon as she did write them, but I treasure each one. When I was not in drill or getting shot at by the enemy, I did write her. I have seen my friends and brothers in arms fall one by one, I have had to carry a few to the hospital and see the amputation of limbs in front of me. I never thought it could happen to me. But it did. In a battle in Virginia, I was hit in the thigh by a musket ball. I could not begin to even hope to describe the pain I felt as that hot lead pushed into my leg. I collapsed down onto the ground, nearly blacking out grabbing it. I fashioned me a tourniquet and cried for someone to carry me to the rear. I was fortunate; the man shooting next to me picked me up and carried me to the rear where the surgeon saw to my wound. I knew what it was from the look on his face what the prognosis was. He had to amputate the leg. He offered me a rag of chloroform but it was weak. I still felt every movement on the saw with a terrible agony. When it was finished, I felt the bandage and started to cry. I know it is not proper, but I could not help myself. Then I was put into a field hospital. I thought I was going to make it okay, but I soon took a fever. Turns out my wound turned septic and I now have a fatal blood infection. I sent a message with my commanding officer to explain to my wife my loss and what I did for her. I am sorry I have to die to defend my home, but I guess this price must be paid so this nation can live in peace once again. Farewell my love, I am sorry for letting you down. I wish I could come home to you again but if this keeps you safe, I guess it would be worth it. Farewell, we shall meet again in heaven.