Our families would become rich and our memory would be honoured long after our death. Heroes, crowned with honour and glory, adored by all. This man, who had endured as many blows in combat as all of the veterans put together, was able to push us beyond our limits. In the seven years since we left Macedonia, conquering these distant realms one by one, he galloped before his troops on his trusty steed Bucephalus, instilling us with strength and courage, promising us gold and glory before each fight, foot soldiers and riders alike shouting his name and swearing to surpass themselves. Was it us, Alexander's soldiers, or the Indian barbarians who were the most barbaric in this butchery? I saw many, many Greeks, Macedonians, Persians and Indian barbarians die in these monstrous forests where only rain flowed more than blood. I saw Alexander the Great fall from the back of Bucephalus as arrows rained down above him from the archers perched in trees and atop iron-clad elephants. What has become of my brothers in arms? I left the battlefield at the edge of the river Hydaspes once the General gave the order to retreat. I am alone in this land of Egypt where the orders of my general Ptolemy have led me.
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