"Dearest Mother,
I miss you greatly. It seems sometimes like I will never come home. The war is never ending. The gruesome sights are unberable. The smoke never leaves the air and my lungs seem to draw tight and not let me breath. You hear screaming and crying. You feel like there is no silence thus you go crazy. You have no where to escape to. Men, our men are dying every minute. Mother, this war is most tireing and upsetting. When you are reporters, you have to be in the middle of it all. At night I wake up with upsetting nightmares. In my dreams I see the faces. Faces of young men. Men mutilated from defending their country. Faces of young men who should be home with family and enjoying life as it is handed to them. Not here. This place is no place of a woman of my stature. I dont belong here. Yet I am drawn. I can't leave now. Part of me belongs here. Parcially because it has taken so much out of me. I talk with soldiers and they say the same. But they usually say they are here because they are men and they were born to be fighters. No one should fight Mother. We shouldn't even have a reason to dispute. We came to this great land for freedom. I believe no man, nor woman or child should die for that cause. I dont know 'ma. Things are so diffrent here in the south. I don't believe in slavery. Its wrong, lawfully and morally wrong to keep some one against will. I dont see why white folk can't do the work too. The south didn't even give us a chance.
Ever since my love, Devon Everest, was captured and killed. I have felt so alone. Mother, you have no idea how I miss him. Its quite frustrating. I both hate and love him. I hate him for dying, yet I love him forever. Does that make much sense?
Four days ago, I took my horse and rode saddle back to a top of a large hill. I looked down and saw beyond a war, beyong the dying men and past the gun smoke. I saw us. A nation. I saw the beautiful land god had created for us being destroyed. The grass is no longer the color of Emerald, but the color of death. The land is at its funeral. Black as the night I was born on. We lost five thousand men this night mother. Five thousand men we could have used to build a stronger country. Five thousdan men to make productive land for our nation. Five thousand men lost to forever and died to never. Our nation is at stake. We are becoming an Abattoir. Some place no human being wants to be in. I hope some thing is done soon. I am scared of dying here. I can't befriend anyone, who knows if they make it to the next day?
Don't worry Mama'. They keep a good watch on me here at all times. I am always guarded, and I am always preparing myself for what may come of next. Sometimes I can't prepare myself enough. I love you Mama'. You are always in my thoughts and prayers. Please give my love to the family. And I hope to visit with you on the holidays. I love you dearly. Take care.
Sincerly, Your daughter,
Hanna Lee Pahssen"
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