I don't own Medal of Honor.
Nathan Smith re-read the letter in his hands. It wasn't the first, but he wanted to make sure that I was perfect. "Okay," said Tim, "read it again." He was shifting around. Nathan sighed, put his M1 Garand down in his lap and read the following.
Dear Mom and Sydney,
Things are fine for me here in France. The locals are being very cooperative. I doubt that we will find that cooperation in Berlin. Tim and I have a job of our own giving the children chocolate. They gobble it up so fast; I think that they never have seen a chocolate bar in their life! We had to fight for our lives to take this town. Our company didn't lose many people though.
However, I bear bad news. Chris Hickens is dead. I think this letter will arrive before the death notice. Tell poor Mary he died a real hero. During the counter-attack, he stayed at the front and made the Germans pay for what they took. If it is of any consolation to her, tell her that I personally threw the grenade down the Panzer hatch.
We are moving eastward, getting closer to Germany with every step of the way. Army life is different than what I thought it would be. At least I get to learn good jokes and travel for free. Again, please don't worry about me or Tim. We can take care of ourselves.
See you soon,
Nathan folded the letter and sealed the envelope after his long time friend nodded. He walked to the postmaster and took it without a word, already knowing what it was. As he left the building he thought of himself. Time to go to war.