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War Letters, Past and Present - Part III
posted Friday, 21 April 2006
Read War Letters, Past and Present Part I or Part II here
The following letter comes from a website called “War Letters: Rochester Writes Home.” It was written from Vietnam by a man named “John.”
March 4, 1971
Dear “Mom” and Crew,
Yesterday, we medivac’d a pair of young girls for multiple fragmentation wounds of the body. One of them was hit in the legs, abdomen, arms and feet! She was 19. The other girl was about 12 years old and had frag wounds in the head, neck, chest, and abdomen. We got them out of here alive but found out today the younger one died on the operating table. All of us on the team (MAT 56) prayed for her but I guess it was her time. I feel bad because I couldn’t do anything to help her.
The wounds were from a booby trap.
We found a boobytrap constructed from a mortar tonight. The Lt. And I dismantled the trap and found a grenade attached so we blew it up in place! Another inch of movement and I would have gone home in a box or on a stretcher in very bad shape I think.
You know sometimes its rather ironic that I can say things to you that I couldn’t ever say to my friends and sometimes my wife……….I’ve always kept things bottled up inside and you are the first person I don’t know, never met, know very little about that I can write freely and feel well relieved.
I guess I just feel kinda homesick and rather alone at times. I already wrote my wife and told her all was well and I’m sorry if I’m crying on your shoulder but I just feel so frustrated about the whole mess at times. Just this war seems so futile at times, when children are the hapless, hopeless victims of war.
Good night, sweet dreams and may God bless you all.
Love always,
John
Dear “Mom” and Crew,
Yesterday, we medivac’d a pair of young girls for multiple fragmentation wounds of the body. One of them was hit in the legs, abdomen, arms and feet! She was 19. The other girl was about 12 years old and had frag wounds in the head, neck, chest, and abdomen. We got them out of here alive but found out today the younger one died on the operating table. All of us on the team (MAT 56) prayed for her but I guess it was her time. I feel bad because I couldn’t do anything to help her.
The wounds were from a booby trap.
We found a boobytrap constructed from a mortar tonight. The Lt. And I dismantled the trap and found a grenade attached so we blew it up in place! Another inch of movement and I would have gone home in a box or on a stretcher in very bad shape I think.
You know sometimes its rather ironic that I can say things to you that I couldn’t ever say to my friends and sometimes my wife……….I’ve always kept things bottled up inside and you are the first person I don’t know, never met, know very little about that I can write freely and feel well relieved.
I guess I just feel kinda homesick and rather alone at times. I already wrote my wife and told her all was well and I’m sorry if I’m crying on your shoulder but I just feel so frustrated about the whole mess at times. Just this war seems so futile at times, when children are the hapless, hopeless victims of war.
Good night, sweet dreams and may God bless you all.
Love always,
John
Now here’s a fictional conversation of a modern day soldier telling his wife about a suicide bombing. He walks into the internet café, signs for a phone, and speaks to his wife over the internet for less than .2 cents a minute. He’s on a forward operating base in Ramadi, Iraq, and she’s at their home near the Rocky Mountains of Salt Lake City, Utah. The whole conversation lasts less than 20 minutes.
SGT B dials the number. He’s sitting on a folding chair in a three-sided booth constructed of plywood. A voice asks him for a pin #. He dials it absently, for the hundredth time. Four rings, and his wife Karen answers.
“Hello?”
“Hey you.” He waits for her response, smiling at the phone.
“Hey sweetie. I’m so glad you caught me. I was about to go to church.”
“Oh yeah? Well, good.”
“What’s wrong Sean?”
“Why do you think somethings wrong?”
“I don’t think. I know. I can tell. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”
“I need to tell you something. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“Oh my God what happened?”
“I’ll tell you. But promise me you won’t get too upset. I am fine. Okay?”
“What happened?”
“Honey, there was a suicide bomber attack out here yesterday.”
“Oh my God!” Karen says, crying. Her emotions are tight as piano strings already. Now they’ve been plucked.
“No, listen. I’m okay. I’m fine sweetheart.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I lost one of my guys. SPC Johansen. He didn’t make it. He was too close to the bomber.” SGT B is sniffling, holding back tears because there are other soldiers around him, using the phones.
“Oh, honey. I’m scared. I’m so scared,” she says.
“I know. His family was just notified, so I’m going to call his wife tomorrow. I want to tell her how great of a soldier Johansen was, and how much he talked about her.” His voice quivers.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I love you. Oh, I love you. You’re fine, right?”
“I’m fine. The bomber killed like 20 Iraqis who were standing in line to sign up for the Police Force. There were people all over. Crazy bastard. ”
“How many soldiers were killed?”
“Two. And about 10 were injured.”
“Johansen’s wife is Maria, right?”
“Yeah. They live up North.”
“I remember her from the Christmas party. They have a baby. Oh Sean this is so sad.”
‘I know. We’re all upset out here. But we have to keep going strong. Johansen would want us to keep fighting. We’re going to come home just fine. It was his time, honey. Had to be. He wasn’t even supposed to be down there. He had just come by to pick some equipment up, and right then this f------ guy blows himself up.”
“I need you to come home, Sean.”
“I know, honey. I’ll be home pretty soon. It’s almost over. We’re having a memorial service Tuesday. His family was notified last night, so you can call Maria.”
“I will. Don’t worry. We’ll all be there for her through this. Promise me you’ll be careful. I need you to come back to me. I can’t even watch the news anymore.”
“Honey. My ass is coming home. Nobody is going to get between me and you and the kids. The only way I’m not coming home is if God doesn’t want me to. But I know it’s not my time yet. God has big plans for me, right?”
“That’s right. Like growing old with me,” Karen says in that mixture of laughter and tears that ends in a sad giggle.
“Other than this crazy shit I just laid on you, how are you guys doing? Did you get the car fixed?”
“Yes, but I’m really depressed, the kids seem depressed. I’m trying to be positive, but I’ve been worrying for so long now, it’s draining me. They need their Daddy back.”
“I know.”
“Have they told you when you’re coming home yet?”
“We don’t have a date yet, but it’s supposed to be in about 10 weeks.”
“10 weeks. God, that sounds like a long time.”
“Yeah, but I’ve already been gone for almost 70 weeks. You did it babe. You have made it this far, it’s going to be sweet when I get home and you’ll get a break. I miss you guys so much. And I’m so proud of you”
“No, we’re proud of you, Daddy. We miss you too. See, I’m crying again. Why am I crying? We’re talking about good stuff now, right?”
“Yes we are. You’re just overwhelmed. You’re going to be fine. I’m coming back to you soon. Are the kids awake?”
“Yeah. They’re upstairs playing.”
“Making a mess, huh? Can I talk to them?
“Okay. Hold on.”
SGT B can hear his three year old son’s voice saying, “I want to talk to Daddy.” He chokes down a sob, smiles through nostalgic tears.
“Hi daddy.” The little voice is one that is still unfamiliar, as if his son is mystified with hearing himself say new words.
“Hi buddy. What are you doing this morning?”
“Ummm, just playing.” He’s almost singing the words, drawing out each syllable.
“Oh really? Are you making a mess?”
“Nooooo”
“Are you sure? I know you like to throw toys all over the whole world.”
“No I’m not daddy. I’m not. I really am aren’t.”
“You really aren’t? Okay, I believe you. Are you being a good boy for Mommy?”
“Yeah.”
“Guess what? Daddy’s coming home really soon. Before you know it I’ll be back and we can go to the park with the big swings, okay?”
“The park I like with the swings, Daddy?” He’s so excited it breaks SGT B’s heart.
“Yep.Hey buddy, can I talk to your sister?”
“Okay Daddy.”
“I love you. Be good for Mommy, okay. I’ll see you soon.”
SGT B can hear his 6 year old daughter’s voice saying “I’m coming Daddy.”
“Hi Dad.” She sounds so much older every time he talks to her.
“Hi beautiful sweet smart little girl who gets to sit in the front row at school because she’s so smart.”
“How did you know that?”
“Mommy told me, silly. I’m so proud of you. Are you helping mom with your little brother?”
“Yep. I even made him cereal this morning.”
“You did? Well, good job. Mommy needs your help until I get home, okay?”
“I want you to come home Dad. Why is Mommy sad?”
“She’s just sad because she misses me, but I’m coming home soon I promise.”
“I don’t want you to get that job again, okay dad?”
“Okay, I promise I’ll never have to go away for this long again.”
“Okay. Dad, can I go finish watching my cartoon now?”
“Sure sweetie. Let me talk to Mommy again. I love you. Talk to you soon.”
“Okay, I love you all the world. Bye bye daddy. Here mom. Here’s dad.”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I guess I should get going. Church is in an hour. Please be careful Sean. I’m going to worry even more now.”
“Wouldn’t you rather me tell you when stuff happens instead of finding out from someone’s wife?”
“Yeah. It’s just so scary.”
“Don’t worry. We know what we’re doing. I’ll be fine. We will kick some terrorist ass and get home, alright?”
“Alright. We’ll say a prayer for you guys in church today.”
“That sounds good. I swear to God I’m coming home to you. You know how life is. We can get killed by a drunk driver every time we leave the house. Statistically, you’re in a more dangerous place than I am, you know. I love you. I’ll call in a couple of days.
“Okay.”
“Okay. Bye Karen. I love you. Bye.”
“Bye bye”
SGT B hangs up, walks out of the internet cafe into 116 degree sun, takes a swig of bottled water, and goes back to work.
Leave comments for Captain K here: (5)
1. .... left...
Monday, 24 April 2006 2:22 pm
Oh Lee, is it that i'm over sensitive or is it that you're writing so very
perfectly or is it that i can't put any distance between your words and my
heart !
2. Janet left...
Tuesday, 25 April 2006 5:41 pm
The children in your not quite fictional account seem hauntingly familiar.
Did we not meet that darling six year old miss just a few weeks ago as a
birthday girl? What a sweetheart!!! You are one lucky daddy, Lt. K, but I
think you are the one most aware of that fact.
3. devildog6771 left...
Wednesday, 26 April 2006 3:42 am :: http://helloiraq.blogspot.com
Another really great post Lt. K. I do so enjoy everything you write. Your
"letters" are sensational and a wonderful way for us back home to share
part of your inner most fears, loneliness, and pain in some small way to
help you all get throuh this.
4. Sherri left...
Wednesday, 26 April 2006 10:44 am
Fictional huh? Now I'm really looking forward to the 'I am home' post.
Take care, you have a date with a six year old beauty and another with your
little bud.:) As always, Thank You Lt.
5. D left...
Saturday, 12 May 2007 6:19 am
Wow. There's a book project going on at www.literaryprojects.com, looking
for letters and such in support of troops. I wonder if this would be
appropriate.