[Your Return Address]
Fort Riley, Kansas
[Date]
Dear Jane,
I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. It has been three months since my last pay, and I thought it best to pen down a few thoughts about my life here at Fort Riley and what I have spent my earnings on. The days pass in a cycle of duties, drills, and the unending pull of the frontier, but there are stories worth sharing, especially regarding what our actions mean for the Native Americans who inhabit this land.
Life at the fort is both demanding and monotonous. Much of our time is spent engaging in drills or maintaining the fort’s defenses. The work is varied; some days my fellow soldiers and I are tasked with construction jobs, while others, I find myself in the kitchen chopping wood or hauling water. The officers live in relative comfort with their families, while us enlisted men have our own barracks. The presence of women is seen as a civilized influence, and a few of my comrades have been fortunate enough to have their wives with them, providing a touch of normalcy amidst the chaos of military life.
As for my wages, I must confess I have tried to make the most of them. I spent a portion on practical items such as a new pair of boots—my old ones had seen better days. The dusty trails and endless patrols are hard on footwear, and I find a sturdy pair essential. I also saved some coin for a new set of uniform trousers; the ones I had were becoming threadbare.
Most importantly, I indulged in a few luxuries—some fresh fruits and a new book. Fresh food is a rare treat here, given how difficult it is to transport goods through these vast plains. The book was a collection of stories that remind me of home, bringing a fleeting comfort to the long nights under the stars.
However, while I write of our daily lives, it is impossible to ignore the plight of the Native Americans around us. We are often told tales of the honor we bring to this frontier, as if our presence is justified by a divine right to expand westward. Yet, the reality is far bleaker. The Cheyenne, Arapaho, and other tribes have lived on this land for generations, and our expansion disrupts their way of life. Resources they depend on grow scarcer by the day, leading them to be pushed further away from their ancestral lands. We are soldiers of a government that claims to seek peace, yet our very existence here is a constant source of tension for these tribes.
I have witnesses too many instances of their suffering—the broken treaties, the encroachments upon their territories, and the whispers of violence in the air. It weighs heavily upon my conscience, as I cannot help but feel complicit in their sorrow, even as I fulfill my duties to protect settlers and traders passing through. It is a cruel irony that the very fort intended to be a sanctuary promotes so much injustice.
I pray my thoughts find you well, dear sister. May we never forget the humanity of all who inhabit this land, for in our quest for a brighter future, we cannot let others suffer in the shadows of our ambitions.
Yours truly,
[Your Name]