Dearest G,

Sorry it’s taken me so long to reply. Things have been bad here. The war’s been hell. I can’t describe it any other way. We’ve moved farther northwest and have taken position on higher ground. All the allied bases have been hit pretty bad and this keeps the choppers out of the sky. We’ve got no mail, no food, no water, no supplies at all, because every time a chopper tries to get into us, they become targets. The VC have hit every unit around us, and there are air strikes in the valleys below us all the time. Some bombs are just background noise, and some sound like freight trains.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times we bomb them, they never seem to stop. Makes me wonder if they’ll ever stop. Or how many men have to die before this is all over.

We have new guys shipped in every couple of weeks. They’re so woefully unprepared, and the fresh horror on their faces when they see so much death just kills me. I know I must’ve been the same when I first got here. That feels like a lifetime ago.

I’ve been promoted to squad leader, which should be something worth celebrating if it didn’t scare me so much. Seems the only thing you have to do to get promoted in the army is not die. There’s only a handful of our original squad left. Karel is still with me, and that’s a blessing. When we get notified of which units have been hit, with the names of those guys who didn’t make it, I don’t even cry anymore.

When they clear the north side of the mountain, down into the valley, we’ll be on the move again. The jungle is so thick through there you can’t see the sun, and at the bottom is a river we’ll need to cross by rope. Then there will be another stroll through miles of jungle on the other side. It’s not just the VC we need to look out for, but mosquitoes and leeches as well. I also now have to worry about the men I’m responsible for. Not only does their inexperience make a liability of my life, but my lack of experience could cost them theirs.

I don’t know which is worse.

So, San Francisco, huh?

I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s pretty cool. I’m not sure what to say about your invitation. I just want to see you, and I guess that it doesn’t matter whether it’s in Connecticut or in California. I don’t know how things will be with my parents. Have written to them twice, and they’ve replied but only a few lines each time, and each reply is the same as any conversation I’ve ever had with them. Only ever about the farm, the weather, and the folks at church. They don’t ask how I am and don’t tell me to be safe, and they don’t say they wish I’ll come home. They don’t say they miss me because the truth is, I’m guessing they don’t.

So perhaps I can come to San Francisco and stay a while, and we can take it from there. If I leave my ticket open-ended, I could stay for a week, or a month, or forever. You might decide I’m not the man you remembered. This place has changed me. I know it has. But it has also solidified something for me. That life is too short to be unhappy.

I want to see you so bad. I want to feel your arms around me, and I want to hear the beat of your heart when you hold me against you. But mostly I want to feel safe, and the safest place I’ve ever been is when I’m with you.

Sorry this letter’s a bit of a downer. And sorry for the state of the paper. My hand keeps smearing dirt as I write. We haven’t been able to shower for a while.

I miss you like I didn’t think was possible. And it scares me that I’m not the man you met all those months ago anymore, and that maybe this war has messed me up so much I don’t recognize myself.

Wish I were coming home today.

All my love,

R