May 3, 1969.  Camp Evans, Vietnam.

Hi Love!

Okay, listen close — send me one of those photostatic copies of our marriage license.  I needed it to get another 60 bucks a month out of the Army.  And that we can always use, at least I think I can get it.  Anyway, send it over, okay?

I’m sending back those pictures you sent me.  I’m keeping three of them though.  Something to remember my wife by, you know.  Not that I could ever forget her.  I’m looking for that picture you promised me of you in your négligée.  Let’s get on the ball, girl!

I’m sending another box of slides to the folks today.  I turned in some prints to be developed yesterday, but they won’t be done for a couple of weeks.  I’ll send them to you as soon as I get them.

I guess I told you on the tape that I’m working nights now.  I really like it — there aren’t so damn many people trying to tell you what to do.  Besides, we usually work from six to midnight, then get the next day off.  Kinda nice.  The only bad part is we’re working when the beer hall is open.

I’m going to close this and get it sent.  I want to write Curt this afternoon, and Dex and Bob too.  Then I may just write my wife again.  You never know.

All My Love,