“Right now I’m prepared and ready to go. I’m Iraq bound after months of training. It’s go time, don’t worry, I’m ready.”

That’s the last paragraph of a letter that 29 year-old Jamaican-born US Air Force sergeant Fitzroy Munroe wrote to his father Lucius Munroe.

“When I read it, I cried, because I was afraid for him and touched by the fact that he’s always thinking of us. He’s the most focused and conscious of my eight children, I can’t lose him,” says Lucius as he takes a break from lunch preparations at the Whitfield Town family restaurant named Air Force One after his son’s achievement.

“I don’t support the war, and I didn’t want him to go, but I knew I couldn’t stop him,” Lucius continues.

Fitzroy, who said he recently received a medal for bravery in an enemy attack, e-mailed the Observer with good news for his family: he’ll be home next month. He hopes that they read his message in the newspaper because sometimes it’s hard to reach them by phone.

“We are allowed two 15-minute phone calls per week, but sometimes I call and get no answer, but I have to just stay focused and push on,” writes Fitzroy.

It hasn’t been easy.

His tangled web of memories includes seeing an American soldier clean up after an Iraqi prisoner of war who went into shock and vomited.

“And the worst thing I’ve seen is about four Iraqi men blown to pieces by their own people,” writes Fitzroy who was also part of the Afghanistan occupation that the US dubbed Operation Enduring Freedom.

The sergeant left his Cook Horn Lane, Kingston 13 address in October 1991 at 16, to live with his mother in Miami. He has a three year-old daughter waiting for him in Florida.

“She is the main reason why I stay alert and stay alive,” says Fitzroy.

With his tour of duty almost at an end, he carefully couches his reply when asked if he wants to remain in the United States Air Force. But his commitment to the army is obvious.

“I’m a warrior for life; it’s hard to walk away after seven years,” the sergeant said. “I’m. fighting to stay alive. I’m only here on the orders of the USA and when you are in the military you follow orders.”

His biggest fear, he says, is dying in his sleep from a rocket-propelled grenade attack.

“I just want to be awake for the fight,” he says.

His family members in Jamaica are worried.

“I watch the news day and night and fret for my son,” says Lucius.

Fitzroy’s brother Karl and his cousin I’U are also glued to the TV, dreading bad news.

“I’m proud that he’s in the army, but I’m not happy that he may die, because if he dies, I will go crazy,” says Karl. “When he comes he gives us everything, he even gave me the clothes I’m wearing now. He’s a very joyous person who does not like war, but he’s a soldier and has to fight.”

And according to father and son, Fitzroy’s kindness extends beyond his immediate family.

“He’s an idol in the community, because he takes books and school things for the children,” says Lucius.

“If he was here now, the whole restaurant would be packed with people listening to him. The community is unhappy that he’s in danger daily. Almost every day they ask about him,” explains Karl.

Herbert Munroe is also proud of his kin.

“He’s the best nephew; always calm, courteous and intelligent and he loves children. He was always reading as a child and I knew from then that he would excel,” says Herbert.

I’U traces Fitzroy’s love of the army back to his early years. He gave him the name Sparks because of his interest in science fiction and his affinity for army movies.

“From he was three years old he loved the sci-fi movies and those with uniformed men, especially Lost in Space. He’s also a good footballer, a family man and the most disciplined of all the siblings. I only hope nothing happens to him,” says I’U.

After his mom filed for him from Miami, the young boy said good-bye to Greenwich All Age School where he was then a student. He did well while working his way through high school and college.

But he has never forgotten Jamaica, holding on to memories of Bob Marley and Sizzla, the beach, dancehall – and the food. His return home cannot be too quick for his family.

“I’m relieved he’s coming back next month because my worst fear is to lose him,” Lucius says as he sits at one of the restaurant tables with his son’s last letter clutched in his hand.