This is no Joke, this is war

R.I.P Robert E. Williams

I arrived in the camp in a car filled with fat-headed collage kids. They acted as if they were the best thing since sliced bread as they bragged about their wives back home and how they had some strong little boys that were already playin' golf or some crap. With the way the way these people were talking I felt bad for their kids. Looks like a generation will waste their lives lookin' for West Dakota. Makes me almost miss the hospital, at least there people that annoyed me soon had to go back to their beds for some reason or another. We arrived and I was given a pamphlet, on it it said that I was being located in sector eighteen. I went to the barracks as I would not be put on duty until tomorrow. I layed down on my cot and figured I better get to sleep early before those party kids turned soldiers showed up. I lay down with a thump and am asleep in seconds.

I fell asleep quickly and it didn't take me long until I was dreaming. In the dream I saw a room with a checkered floor and a single bed. The one light hung by a small thread. It illuminated a soft glow that kept the focus on the bed. I recognized this place as the hospital. It was as uneasy as ever but I found the eerie lack of sound, strange there was not a single other soul in the room. I decided it that I have no option but to walk over to the bed, it seemed to be calling me. It resembles the beds found in the hospital and the person laying on it was wearing the god awful sheet things we were required to wear. In the dream I looked at the body and saw a person that had every business being in a hospital, my old pal Jerry. As I look into the face of my friend my perspective changed. In the dream I looked down at my feet and saw I was now the one wearing the smock. I now had two arms and surprisingly two legs but with all my might I could not move either. I watched as the environment changed around me. I was no longer in a hospital but in a box laced with silk, the patter of rain around told me I was outside otherwise but this was not more comforting. I watched as the lid of my casket was lifted lightly and saw the faces of my family. First my wife came up with a look of pity on her face like she was sad for me, and had thought it quite a shame I was dead. It was not however a look of sadness. Next my son walked up to me, he was a tall boy with very similar features to my own. He said nothing and just calmly set my purple heart medallion into my casket. I watched as they picked up my casket and brought me into a place on the ground. With a heave they lifted me up and lowered me into the grave with my lid still open. My wife shoveled a scoop of dirt and I watched as it slowly glided down like a leaf and right as it hit my face I jolted awake.

I see a young boy standing there next to my bed. He looked rather started as if my sudden spastic awaking surprised him. He jumped and landed with a thunk.

He started to speak "Hello sir, letter came for you."

He handed me a official looking envelope and I reluctantly grabbed it. I opened it up with a clean straight line across the top. I look out the letter and what I read would stick into my mind for the rest of my days. The letter stated "A certain Michel G. Williams passed away on the day of February 19 1942."