Apparently, on November 11 of last year, we won the war. Despite how the prison blocks most news, this news was announced throughout the prison. It feels like there are celebrations and smiles in every corner of the whole world.

The US suffered no damage to its mainland. The US helped tilt the scale of the war in the Allies’ favor. When I walked into that war, I thought victory would be basked in sweetness and glory. There was no glory in that damn war. I never thought victory would have such a lasting bitter taste in my mouth, as bad as the food they served us in the trenches. I am turning 44 years old today in this concrete box.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

The prison warden looked over my record and decided that my sentence would end in May of 1922, supposedly shorter than the other prisoners locked in here for the simple fact that they desired peace in that war like me. My sentence would not extend as long as “keep up the good behavior and reflect on how I wronged the United States.” Yeah, I indeed did wrong the United States by following its propaganda, and I will write it when I step outside the metal bars.