Letters from War
By Silver Elf Child
Dear Mamma,
I hope this letter finds you well. It's only been a week since I joined the Freedom Fighters and there's not enough room on the page to describe everything. Throttle and Vinnie are my bunk mates, which make things a little easier out here in the far reaches of the desert. Our platoon leader is a mouse by the name of Stoker. I don't know if you have heard of him or not, but he's been teaching us all sorts of useful things about bikin', fightin', and livin'. Vinnie doesn't think laundry is one of them.
We train in hand to hand combat at least once a day, since we are new. Stoker takes great pleasure in whippin' all our tails. That was until yesterday. I was the first of the new recruits to pin him. My little feat, as he called it, earned me a little R and R, which I'm using to write you.
Please don't worry, I'm doing well. Sometimes the sun blazes like nothin' else when we're all out riding across the desert. I can't believe how much I've learned since joining the Freedom Fighters about riding. Not to say that you weren't a good teacher, Mamma. You are. It's just that, well, you never let us do half the thinks Stoker wants us to. He says it's best to know how to handle ourselves in case of any emergency. I hope you understand.
Give Sis a kiss and hug the little ones for me. I miss you all terribly. When I get a chance, I don't know when yet, but I'll try to come and visit. Even if it's just for a few minutes. All my love.
Modo
p.s. You're all the reason why I chose to join the Freedom Fighters. I don't know if I ever told you that, but it's true.
Mamma wiped away a tear as she finished reading her son's first letter home from war. She was so proud of him, and his two best friends, for being courageous enough to join the fight for their home. Yes, the mother in her wanted to keep him far from harm, but she also knew that she had to let him make his own decisions, let him go as it were. She'd spent his childhood and most of his adolescent years imparting as much wisdom as she could to both of her children. If only one took those words into consideration now and then it was all worth the badgering.
Mamma smiled at the thought of raising her children. The way Modo would get into all sorts of trouble because his sister would drag him along on all sorts of escapades. He had to learn early how to survive. She didn't doubt that he'd keep his tail out of trouble if or when the fighting should escalate. Another tear escaped her eye and she quickly wiped it away before picking up a piece of paper and pen.
Dear Son,
It was good to hear from you. I'm glad that you and your friends are enjoying the Freedom Fighters. This Stoker sounds to be a nice mouse and full of wisdom. Listen well and learn as much as you can from him. Before long you'll be the best Freedom Fighter Mars ever produced. You are so good and brave. I want you to know how proud I am of you. The way you look after Primer and Rimfire, there is no doubt in my mind that you'll make a wonderful father someday. Promise me this; you'll make it home safe.
Take care Modo.
Love,
Your Mamma
Dear Ma'am,
I'm writing you this letter on behalf of your son, Modo. I served with him in the Freedom Fighters and let me say that there is no finer mouse among us. In our day to day interactions, he is the one who keeps us grounded.
The other day, while out on a mission, our platoon took heavy fire. Amongst the firestorm of firepower I crashed. I thought for sure during all the confusion that I was a goner. As the others fought off the enemy I tried to crawl to cover. Before I knew it I was the only one left on that hill, wounded. I started to give up hope that I'd be found, but then I saw someone come back for me. That was your son. He saved my life at the cost of his own. He was captured during our retreat and I'm ashamed to say that I am not as brave as he. Stoker, our platoon leader, keeps reminding me that it's not my fault. That anyone in my condition would not have been expected to chase down the enemy for a comrade. I'm not so sure.
Two of our buddies, Throttle and Vinnie, who were very tight with Modo, disobeyed Stoker's direct orders and went to free Modo. It has been several days with no news. I fear that they too were captured. Modo asked me to write to you if anything should happen and I'm sorry that this letter had to find its way to you. I still hold onto hope that our comrades will be found alive and brought back safely. Please don't lose heart.
Modo's comrade in arms,
Andre Sam
Dear Ma'am,
It pains me to deliver the news that your son, Modo, was captured by the Plutarkian's and is now assumed a casualty of war. This saddens me two fold for Modo was a friend I deeply respected, and because I am the one that must cause you such pain by delivering this news. Please accept my heartfelt condolences.
Stoker.
Mamma fell to her knees at the words she read in both letters. Neither one could be true, but it had to be. Two separate sources told similar accounts. She dreaded telling her daughter and grandchildren the news. They'd be crushed.
Mamma carefully refolded the letters and placed them in the pocket of her apron. She didn't have time to mope about. She needed to find more definitive answers before turning the letters contents into fact versus spreading vicious rumors amongst her family.
Her worst fears were confirmed by Carbine, all three of the boys had been captured, reportedly tortured then killed. All that she had left of her beloved son were a few odds and ends and all his letters from war that she had kept in her night stand drawer. But despite all that she was told, she still held onto hope that they were yet wrong. Each night before she would sleep she'd pray that wherever he was, he was being good, staying strong and brave. She prayed that he'd started a family and he was becoming that father she knew that he'd always become one day. But most of all she prayed that he'd make it safely home.
Modo removed the very worn letter his Mamma had written him years before. He still had every last one, but this one was his favorite, despite its minute length. Lying in his bunk he reread the fading ink. Despite the frayed edges and the growing invisibility of the words he knew their meaning by heart. His Mamma had said it all on this page after he'd been wounded. She simple said:
Modo
You are good and brave. I know that you'll be a great father one day. Please make it home safely.
Love,
Mamma.
He quickly dashed away the tears that always came when he read those words. He couldn't wait till he and his bros finished off Limburger once and for all, so he could surprise his Mamma by following her orders to return home safely. Hopefully with the family she wished for him in tow, but for now just seeing her again would be worth all the heartache he'd endured and caused her since joining his beloved Freedom Fighters.
A/N: This story was inspired by Mark Shultz's song by the same title. If you get the chance to listen please do. It's from his CD stories and songs, of which all the songs are based on true stories.
Secondly, this story was inspired by the fact that I come from a military family and have several friends currently serving in our armed forces. Back during the first gulf war I sent several handmade valentines overseas to our service men and women. I only got on reply from a soldier serving in desert shield, Andre Sam, who said that the card meant a lot to he and his fellow soldiers in the desert. I can only assume that the same would have been true on Mars, the receiving of letters and cards.
Lastly, I originally intended this as a one shot, but as I sit and ponder at this page I realize that I have forgotten some key players in the Biker Mice bikedom. Is it worth continuing this 'story' to the others? There are so many possibilities and so many angles to be played with… that is, if it worth my time to elaborate because honestly I write on my downtime at work- saving lives. (Sometimes all gets quiet in the basement when there are no traumas coming in late at night and there are only so many things to clean when you are bored.)