I didn’t want to do this, but I am glad I did

She was severely injured. The doctor informed the staff that she would die soon. The Colonel told me it was time to earn my keep. I was to know what the private knew, not about our time together, but just of today.

So I began concentrating.

Her mind was easy for me to penetrate. She broadcasts her every thought, not just the recent ones, but EVERY thought since birth. I knew where to look for I have had access to her soul since we first met. I viewed her world from those beautiful eyes and organized what she couldn’t with my mind.

Within seconds, we became one mind again.

I saw what she saw in the womb. I experienced her birth (rather pleasant) and the smack on her rear. I saw her during her first cry, her first sleep, and taking her first steps.

The private, my Melinda, led an idyllic life as a child.

Her first day of school found her with new friends and caring teachers. Melinda reciprocated and quickly became beloved among both.

She grew up in her parent’s home content.

I know I could not hold back the blush of experiencing her first kiss on prom night.

Or her loss of virginity.

It was exactly as she told me after our first time.

And it was just as good.

But, I digress.

The private’s life was perfect until the first wave of invaders arrived.

Despite my pleas, she was among the first to enlist and first to see combat. She never spoke of that night where she survived the vibro-weaponry. What Melinda saw ranks as horrific to the princess from a perfect world. I now shared that experience. I could not hold back the tears or my tremors. I have no words to describe the destruction of her unit and the invaders feasting upon the remains.

A lesser soldier would have wilted. Melinda was not a lesser soldier.

She became different. A woman of patience. A woman of ingenuity.

Melinda lost her ability to love. She wrote a letter to me yearning for days past when we shared sunrises and sunsets. She missed my kisses. She wanted just one more day.

Melinda never spoke of marriage, but I often did. “Just wait until tomorrow” was the last sentence I ever heard her speak. Now I feel them all, as waves forced to race to a beach that they know will not exist in the morning.

The beach will always be there. It is the waves that will experience their last tide.

The private kept close to the action and discovered the invaders were as fragile to the hazards of our world as humans are. They do not tolerate the extremes of heat or cold or the lack of water and food well. They get rashes. They catch colds. And, they complain.

This last piece of information is why I am reading the private’s mind tonight.

At 1900, local time, Melinda set explosives to a dam on the nearby reservoir permitting a cascade of water across the frozen streets leading to the invaders' underground bunkers. The sewers they occupied became frozen and flooded, forcing the invaders to halt their mealtime and begin fighting without a plan.

Contact with the freezing water also rendered the vibro-weaponry inoperable.

It did not leave rifles and grenades inoperable.

The private lead the impromptu attack. She made it all the way to the occupied electrical power grid station. She had no orders and acted alone.

But not for long.

I smiled when the private, my Melinda, smiled. Her last thought was of both of us, in white gowns, at sunrise, speaking our vows.

As I broke the link between us, she never stopped smiling and never would. I don’t see combat first hand, but I see it through the eyes of those who die from it. Melinda was the 32nd soldier I was in contact with when she died. Not all go as easy as she did. A few know of my presence and try to keep me as they cross over. I heard of someone who crossed over while linked.

The Confederation lost two soldiers that day.

Today, they lost one worth two.