June 10, 1969.  Camp Evans, Vietnam.

Dear Rita,

I’m being yelled at to turn out the lights and go to bed, but I want to get off a quick letter to you.  It won’t be long but I’ve been thinking of you and feel like scrawling a few lines.  I finally found a box for your birthday present and got that ready to go.  I’ll send it in the morning.  Remember, I don’t want you opening it until the day of your birthday.  I also got some slides and a tape ready to send the folks.  So you’ll have some more slides to look at.  We are definitely going to have to pick up a projector in the future.

A guy who used to be here with us was wounded in a mortar attack at a fire base last night.  A friend of his was killed.  Things are getting hot over here (not where I am).

The letter I got from you tonight I’ll have to answer tomorrow.  Maybe then I’ll have two, huh?

Must turn in now.  I’ll try to get a nice long one off next.  I love you Rita.  Always remember that.

Your Love is My Life!