May 29, 1969.  Camp Evans, Vietnam.


Dear Rita,

I’m writing this while on guard duty.  May not be very long because it won’t stay light, but I do my best.

Since I just mailed a letter this evening and it won’t go out until the morning, you’ll get both of these at the same time probably.  That should make you happy.  It’ll be different anyway.

I picked up those pictures I’ve been promising you.  I’ll try to get them on the way tomorrow.  I had forgotten how long ago I had taken them.  They were taken when I was down at Da Nang when our ships came in.  You can see from the pictures how soft they have it compared to us.

It’s raining now, I have a feeling it’s going to be a thoroughly miserable night.

Honey, send me any clippings you see about the fighting in the Ashaw.  We only hear about our part of the fighting, and never get the whole picture.  It sure would be appreciated.

It’s getting too dark to write now, so I’ll finish tomorrow.  Guess you won’t get two the same day after all.

Back again — late Friday afternoon now.  I slept all morning but I’m still dead tired.  I’ve got to get to bed early tonight, since I had KP tomorrow which means getting up at 4:30.  I’m not looking forward to that at all.

You mentioned Dean’s mustache — that I ever tell you I was growing one too?  That is, I was.  I cut it off about a week ago.  It was nice and long but so darn blonde that it didn’t show up.  Maybe I’ll try again one of these days.

I just got a letter from Curt tonight.  He yelled and screamed at me as I called him a lifer.  He said he had 92 days left, and that was the 14th.  Now it’s down around 80.  He said that he hasn’t taken his R&R yet — it was his seven-day leave.  And he went to Manila, not Japan like I thought.

Mom mentioned something in her last letter about the change in Becki’s wedding date.  I guess she’d been talking to Sonny’s wife (can’t recall her name).  She wasn’t sure about it though.  It’s a shame they can’t have a double wedding like they planned.  It was getting so close it’s too bad they had to blow it.

I told you that Clay is back, didn’t I?  He’s going to have a real cool scar now.  It’s a perfect “T” in the middle of his chest.  It’s about 6 inches long and three across.  He has to go back tomorrow for a check and may get some of the stitches removed.

Still no word at all on Bill.  I wish I had Shirley’s address so I could find out from her what the hell is going on.

Clay was just here.  He was looking through my photo album and said to tell you that you definitely look better with long hair.  (By the way, how’s your hair coming?)  He also saw that one of you in bed, which he seen before but couldn’t remember.  Of course he had to give me a hard time about it.  Then Kim joined in, claiming he hadn’t seen it before either.  Needless to say I was on the losing end of the deal.

Must go hit the sack now.  Seems that’s how I end all my letters but that’s how it goes.

I love you Rita.  And I’m waiting for the day I can have you in my arms again, forever.

All My Love,

Jeff

PS.  Sending more pics with next letter — 294 days to go!

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