I flew my 100th mission today. Although, it wasn’t a combat mission. It was a flight over the capital. I don’t know exactly how to put in words my feelings about this tour on the homefront. I have gotten plenty of gifts from people celebrating my return, but I question the true nature of having me parade around asking for money to fund the war effort.

There were many there, holes and patches on their clothes. Boys with grime on their cheeks, no doubt from working to make ends meet. They smile, but I cannot help but carry a great shame when I see them. I can only imagine what the photos will look like. A pressed uniform among a sea of rags. I cannot tell what kind of press that would stir up overseas. However, there is not a doubt in my mind that the Entente are doing the exact same at this moment.

Stolen story; please report.

What nobody will tell you about the war is that the two sides are quite the same. Of course, our language, our lands, and our customs are different. But, we all have been fighting for nearly seven years. I have only been in for about four of them. Longer than anyone should, I can tell you that.

(Scratched out from the diary were these sentences. It has been reconstructed the best it could)

I have seen many horrific things, even from the air. What still lingers on my mind is that soldier who was screaming in pain until his slow death in the hospital.

I hope that I may find the time to clear my mind during this small time of peace. Hopefully those in charge can do the same.