May 8, 1969.  Camp Evans, Vietnam.

Dearest Rita,

I guess it’s been a couple of days since I’ve written, and then it was a tape anyway.  Sorry about that, Reet, but I wasn’t feeling too good last night and went to bed early.

I didn’t think I’d get a chance to write tonight either.  We had to work tonight, and in the rain to boot.  And I mean to say it was really coming down.  We couldn’t get the ship up a slight hill to the hangar because of the mud, so we had to work out on the flight line.  Then, as soon as we finished, it stopped raining.  Tick me off!

I got another tape from you yesterday.  It was great to hear your voice, but I just about dropped my drawers when you said you got rid of $110 in an hour.  And you still have bills left?  Well, once you’re paid-up, please, please don’t charge anymore for a while, okay?  I don’t think I could afford it!  Just kidding, hon.  Seriously though, charging too much isn’t a good habit to get into.

Oh, say, this is the first — I’ll have to tell you about it.  I actually got a day off yesterday.  Well, a half day.  And I got to go to the beach!  Wasn’t bad at all.  It’s a real nice beach — Eagle Beach — with a beer hall, PX, and the works.  The water was warm and the clearest I’ve ever seen.  Not any surf to speak of, but what the heck.  And I got sunburned.  On my legs and feet.  Wearing boots and pants was pure hell for me today.  I hope I can get down there often enough that my legs catch up to the rest of my tan.

Oh, another thing — if you haven’t found The Fountainhead yet, don’t bother.  Kim’s sister sent it to him.  But if you have found it or do see it, you’d probably like it.  And I’ll send you Atlas Shrugged real soon because Kim got a copy of that too.

About that bit about Dale you spoke of — I’ve had some mixed emotions about that.  I think I’ll not say anything about that for now and try to get a tape off to you tomorrow.  I think it would be easier to explain how I feel on tape than in writing.  I’m glad you told me about it though, and I can’t help but hope that he doesn’t come around anymore while he’s home.

Rita, I love you.  More than anything in the world.  Remember that always.

Your Love is My Life!

Your Hubby,