El general abrió la carta, quiso darle una lectura rápida, no quería invertir tanto tiempo en aquella misiva, sin embargo, decidió leerla nuevamente, esta vez se detuvo en cada palabra escrita, no podía creer en lo que allí se le informó.
El cabo primero, José Antonio Torrealba, había muerto en combate, empezó, advertir como sus piernas temblaban, tenía ganas de vomitar, busco la silla para sentarse, nunca se sintió tan vulnerable como en ese momento, siempre la muerte lo rondaba desde que inició su carrera militar, pero la esquivaba cada vez que podía, sin embargo, ahora se hallaba derrotado, la muerte había ganado. Nunca pensó que a uno de los suyo lo alcanzaría menos a su hijo menor, quien apenas tenía veinte años de edad, se enlistó para seguir los pasos de su padre, y llegar a ser un gran general.
Más, el general no sabía qué hacer con aquel inmenso dolor que nacía desde su pecho, en ese instante un pensamiento cruzo por su cabeza, este dolor es tan igual al de los otros padres que están perdiendo a sus hijos en esta guerra, no importa del bando que sean esta congoja nos abraza a todos y no mira status social ni raza, ni nacionalidad alguna. Al final, todos somos iguales ante la muerte.
The general opened the letter, wanted to give it a quick read, he did not want to spend so much time on that letter, however, he decided to read it again, this time he stopped at each written word, he could not believe what he was informed there
The first corporal, José Antonio Torrealba, had died in combat, he began, noticing how his legs trembled, he wanted to vomit, he looked for the chair to sit on, he never felt as vulnerable as at that moment, death always prowled him since he started his military career, but he dodged it whenever he could, however, now he was defeated, death had won. He never thought that one of his own would reach him less than his youngest son, who was barely twenty years old, enlisted to follow in his father's footsteps, and become a great general.
More, the general did not know what to do with that immense pain that was born from his chest, at that moment a thought crossed his mind, this pain is so equal to that of the other parents who are losing their children in this war, it does not matter Whatever side they are, this anguish embraces us all and does not look at social status or race, or any nationality. In the end, we are all equal before death.