Mom,

I lost one of my squad on the last mission.

I've tried so many times to write the KIA message to his parents. But I can't get past even the first line. I thought, maybe, writing to you would help. Start getting some words out, at least.

It's not the first time I've lost people. Dad. Akuze. Hell, even Jenkins.

But all of them…their deaths were beyond my control. Part of my therapy after Akuze was learning to accept that. There was nothing I could have done to prevent any of their deaths. Their deaths were unavoidable tragedies.

Not a mistake.

My mistake.

It was either him or another squadmate. My gunnery chief is currently dealing with a massive dose of survivor's guilt. I've been there. I get it. But, really, it wasn't her call. All she did was follow orders.

I'm the one who killed him. Because I wasn't good enough. I wasn't fast enough or strong enough or smart enough to figure out a solution that didn't involve one of them dying. I keep replaying it over and over again in my head. Looking for the way I could have saved them both. I can't see it yet. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to. And that scares me.

Soldiers die. It's their job. No one knows this better than I do. I grew up with both of you in the military. I understood instinctively that there would be a day when one or both of you wouldn't come home. I know risking death is part of the job, but I feel like I've spent my career learning all the best ways to bar the windows so death can't get in—and then someone comes along and opens the front door for it.

I need to put an end to this.

I need to finish this mission.

Love,

your daughter, Commander Camina

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Hi Cam,

I'm sorry about your soldier.

You're my daughter, so I know you're not looking for empty reassurances. Nothing I say can change what happened.

I can tell you this: I've written many of those KIA letters over the course of my career. But it wasn't until I received one that I truly understood what they were about. Before I got your father's, I'd feel this incredible guilt over ever letter I wrote. Like I was pulling the trigger on each and every one of those soldiers killed in the line of duty when I hit the send key.

When I got the message about your father, though, I understood. I felt nothing but gratitude towards his commanding officer.

You aren't pulling the trigger. You're answering a question they didn't know they needed to ask. Give them their answer. They won't hate you for it. Trust me.

And whatever choices you were forced to make, you will have to live with those.

But you can live with them, Camina. Because you're you. You are strong enough.

Let me know when your mission is all wrapped up. I've got some leave I need to take. It's been way too long since I've seen you.

Love,

your mother, XO Hannah

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