 The purpose for the narrator losing his memory is. . .
Words formed themselves on my thick tongue, words that must have been spoken by so many reviving unfortunates through the ages: "Where am I?" The voice was telling me that I had been snatched from worlds away, for a specified purpose here on whatever windswept planet Dondromogon might be. War, unceasing, bitter, with no quarter asked, given or expected. "Suffice it that you were needed, and that the time was ripe. Especially as I don't know who I am, or where I'm from, or anything that has happened longer ago than just a moment. "There's a bigger reward for capture than for warning," objected his friend in turn, "and whoever comes to take this man will claim 'capture.'
 So he can be birthed on a clean slate as the new Dondromogon leader.
 Earth is not something a Dondromogon leader should remember.  So he can be birthed on a clean slate as the new Dondromogon leader.  So that the Dondromogons will be suspicious of him  To better assimilate to Dondromogon culture.