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Hiroshi Takahashi: As I write this letter, the ocean breeze feels cool on my skin. That very ocean is soon to be my grave. They tell me I will die a hero. That the safety and honor of my country will be the reward for my sacrifice. I pray they are right. My only regret in life is never telling you how I feel. I wish I were back home. I wish I were holding your hand. I wish I were telling you that I have loved you, and only you, since I was a boy. But I'm not. I see now that death is easy. It is love that is hard. As my plane dives, I will not see the face of my enemies. I will instead see your eyes, like black rocks frozen in rainwater. They tell us that we must scream, "Banzai," as we plunge into our target. I will instead whisper your name. And in death, as in life, I will remain forever yours.
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Annabel Cotton: Tell me about the birds, Enoch.
Enoch Brae: What?
Annabel Cotton: The songbirds. Why do they sing in the morning?
Enoch Brae: They sing because they're happy to be alive another day.
Annabel Cotton: I've sung every morning since I met you.
Kenneth L. Peterson
Extended Reading
