Letter

Darling,
I love you. I love you more than I can say. I love your smile. I love your smell, but even more i love you bringing me tea in the morning, as we step out on a sunday and listen to the birds celebrate the joy of light, life and love. I love our walks, our talks down the bund in the evening, leaning against one another. So much, so many things, you are more to me than my love, you are my strength. You are the stiffness of my spine. You are my comfort, also my refuge. You make a man of me and let me be a boy.

I got your last letter on January 12. The posts are a little delayed after we moved on to this new camp. Yes, I was also thinking about you when new year dawned. It is my only prayer that we will be able to celebrate the sinhala new year together, hopefully this war will be over by then. But really the hardest part is now my love, when the enemy is hard to target as they are hiding cowardly behind innocent civilians. But our leadership is strong and our morale is high. Do not worry about my safety dear, regardless of what you hear in the news, I am OK and will stay that way. You know that I am an electrician. I am surrounded by several divisions of infantry whose only job is to keep us safe. So love, come April I will board that bus on my way back to you.

As for the news here: We continue to occupy into the town, rescuing more and more people as we go. The rains have stopped at last and we'll see little or no more until end June, the civilians tell me. Its getting terribly hot & dry. Did I tell I can now speak tolerably well in Tamil! I promise to teach you when I'm back. Oftentimes after talking with there people i think that only he we knew each others languages and talked a little bit more, so much of this could have been avoided. At least now they've started to teach it at school, which is very good.

About the war: Here at camp we see first hand the effects of it, rescued civilians passing through on their way to resettlement camps. Their faces filled with new hope and happiness. Those are the moments that make our whole effort worthwhile. They are out of all danger now. Really darling, I'll not lie, apart from the straw artillery shell and the very rare mine on the roads it's not at all risky here. I might be more at harm in the village from your brother. Ha ha.

Last week our division discovered another hastily covered mass grave of the enemy, where some kids found dead were even smaller than younger brother. This is the brutality of the enemy who force there innocents to the forefront of the field. We dug up the bodies and buried them proper in graves, however unmarked- somebody's son or daughter, somebody's brother or sister.

Yesterday I also helped at the security and clearing station up front for the endless stream of civilians that managed to evade enemies. I can only imagine the agony and suffering at the hands of the enemy while being forcibly held as human shields in the no fire zone. The officers there are overburdened and my Tamil came in pretty handy. I'm free tomorrow and I expect I'll go again to help them out- beats staying in camp idling and playing cards.

Well darling it's getting late and I'll end here. I love you and miss you. I'll post you from camp tomorrow. Good night and sweet dreams.

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Dear Mrs. Weeramuni,
You don't know me, I'm just another soldier like Saman was. But for some reason I feel the need to tll you what happened. I've waited a bit to do this, I expect Saman is home with you by now, and the Army has done their duty in this regard.
I found this letter on the ground after we picked up Saman, and held on to it. I'm sorry. I don't know why it always makes me cry. Oh hell, I said I was going to tell you what happened so here goes,
We were at the clearing station for the refugees coming from the front, sorting and directing them to the resettlement camps. We were severely overburdened and welcomed the assistance from other soldiers like Saman who helped us out. Saman was stationed no less than 10 metres from me. Suddenly there was shots fired, with a loud report and we instictively dropped to the ground. With a ball of flame, and explosion went off almost immediately.
When we got to our feet again, well, nothing, just Saman lying there on the road, among the other fallen. When we got to him he was already gone, by those bullets. There was nothing we could do but take him back to camp. As you know the others escaped with minor injuries, it was a minor explosion afterall.
It's not much if a story I guess, no big battle or anything for the papers. I still don't know why I am doing this. But, well Saman was out there volunteering and helping some people, and there were those that sadistically wanted to hurt them. I guess that is why I am writing this. Saman, was there to help protect people from those who hurt them. And so, I guess that makes Saman a hero, not the victim. I'm sure you miss him; but he was a good man and please take some comfort in knowing what he really was.