As I write this letter, the ocean breeze feels cool on my skin. The 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 am 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 only, instead, see your eyes. Like black rocks frozen in rain water. 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.