Yours sincerely, John

The black-and-white photograph, worn and creased by time, was likely taken many decades ago. The young man standing tall and proud in his military uniform is John, a soldier of honor. His uniform is pristine, the carefully polished buttons glinting faintly even in the faded tones of the photograph. His kilt, the hallmark of a Scottish regiment, sways lightly as he maintains his strong posture, and his tam o'shanter with its chequered band perches slightly to the side of his head. His eyes reflect a youthful resolve, perhaps tinged with a hint of quiet apprehension, as though caught between the innocence of youth and the weight of duty.

John was not just another face in the long history of men who donned their nation's military garb. Born in the rugged Scottish Highlands, where mist clung to the mountains and the wind whispered through ancient forests, John had always dreamed of adventure. The allure of faraway lands and tales of battle had captivated him ever since he was a young boy, listening to his grandfather's stories of the past wars fought for freedom and honour.

As the years went by, the world around John began to change. War loomed large on the horizon, and the call to serve was felt keenly in every village and town. For John, it wasn't merely a duty; it was an opportunity to write his own story. And so, he enlisted in the Scottish regiment, donning the kilt that generations before him had worn with pride.

The photograph was taken during his stationing in Egypt, evident from the inscription in the corner that reads "A.S. Intra, Cairo." The sweltering heat of the desert sands was far removed from the cool mist of his homeland, yet John's heart still beat with the rhythm of the Highlands. Every letter he wrote back home ended with the same words: "Yours sincerely, John." It became his signature, a reminder that no matter how far away he was, he remained the same loyal and steadfast young man who had left Scotland with dreams of glory.

But it wasn't just glory that awaited John. The harsh realities of war were soon to test his mettle. He saw comrades fall, heard the deafening roar of battle, and felt the deep pangs of homesickness. Yet, through it all, John never lost his sense of purpose. His letters remained frequent, filled with tales of his experiences, his hope for peace, and his longing to return home one day.

To his family, John's letters were more than just updates—they were lifelines, each one signed off with "Yours sincerely, John." It was as though every word held a piece of him, offering comfort and reassurance in uncertain times.

In time, John's story became one of survival and resilience. While many did not make it back from the far-flung corners of the world, John returned to the Highlands, not as a boy chasing dreams, but as a man who had lived them. His uniform now hung in his closet, a relic of days gone by, but the pride in his heart never faded.

As the years passed, John's stories were passed down through his family, much like his grandfather's had been to him. The photograph, faded yet still commanding, was kept in a frame, a testament to the young man who had once stood tall in a Cairo studio, ready to face whatever the world had to throw at him.

Though he is long gone now, John's spirit lives on in the stories shared by those who knew him, his adventures immortalised in his letters, always ending with "Yours sincerely, John."