My Dearest Matilda,
War. The darkest of days has come and gone. I stand, an orphan of this terrible crusade; the soul survivor of the Blazin’ 38, Dakota territories only remaining regiment. Fallen are my brothers. Let it known back home that the Battle of Sportslvania Court House has cost the country over 30,000 souls. Their hopes and futures doust like the fire of independence that birthed this once great country of ours only to have now fallen to this sinister force. Goonie, the native boy from upstate I wrote about previously, was torn in two before my very eyes, an impression that has force me to take refuge in spirits, a sin which I am ashamed to admit to you. I am now without sleep for more than a week. Any time I close my eyes, I see our foe; these soulless killing machines, their cold eyes and haunting voices towering before me. I try to find solace in prayer, but I fear a god that could create such beastly villains, could not hear my pleas.
I ventured out into the battlefield this morn, as a dank haze hung over the blood soaked soil, searching for the remains of my company members before the cows did. The earth has been torn open, littered with the detritus of these two forces. This once peaceful town, known for its apple butter and propinquity to the great Hennessy River, remains a broken byproduct of a conflict that ruined more than the landscape. The oil of the machines and the blood of my comrades pool and reflect the fires of the buildings. The strength of this once great country has been replaced by twisted metal and bone. It’s spine, that once was a fervent patriotism, has been broken by the cold iron of the enemy, and now we lay paralyzed as the enemy conquers more each day. Some think the opposition came from outside the country, a mechanism from the old world gone array. But I know the truth; that American citizens like you and me created these horrifying oppressors out of sloth and lust for greater riches. We have given birth to our reaper.
Matilda, I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not falter. I know how strongly the Human Civilization now leans on the triumph of the our resistance and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and sufferings of these past 4 years against the Cyborgs. Too many men and women will be lost in the annals of time if we are to loose this Robot War. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joysin this life, to help maintain presence of man on this planet, and to pay debt.
Donovan Alexander II
July, 18 2065