It has been a month since I was fired from the vet clinic, three weeks since the outbreak in Chernarus, sixteen days since my son, Jeremy, was deployed out to the gates of hell. I was so surprised by how calm he was about everything before he left. It was as if he knew that serving the world was his purpose, as if there was nothing else he should be doing in this very moment. I was in awe of his devout sense of duty, but on the day he left I couldn't help but search for a little more reassurance. Before Jeremy walked out the door I asked him to promise me that he was coming home, no matter the barrier, no matter the cost. He looked me in the eyes, took my hand firmly, then turned around and walked out the door, leaving a note in my hand. The note read "Don't trust them," and I've kept it with me ever since. It has been six days since I saw all the footage on the news, Elektrozavodsk in flames, Jeremy's Marine base covered in a cloud of smoke. "Marines base overrun in Cherno, no survivors, they said. But I don't believe them, Jeremy told me not to. I know he is still out there, somewhere, but I know I just have to go and find him. I don't care how long it takes, I doesn't matter how many people I have to meet along the way, I will not stop. And well... if the worst is true and he has ended up like one of... them... just know that I will bring our boy back. So this is why I am leaving, my dear wife. I have to go to Chernarus and find Jeremy. Please take care of everyone while I am gone, and please, for the love of god, don't come try and join me. I couldn't bear seeing you get hurt.
Your loving husband,
Joe "Buddy" Caraway