← Part of Letters from Vietnam
letter
Letter to Terrie, 5 August 1970 — a beach day, and what happened when some guys went to the village
Charlie's second letter to Terrie dated 5 August 1970 (a shorter companion to the same day's longer Ripcord letter), reassembled from its scans (dad328 page 1, dad329 page 2). He's at the beach now, heading back into the jungle tomorrow — it's been relaxing, and he can't say when he'll next be back from the field, but asks her to keep writing regardless. He can't wait to get home and go to Daytona Beach with her, joking it will feel freezing there compared to Vietnam. He admits, again, that he hasn't gotten nearly as many letters written as he wanted, and hopes for a more peaceful stretch in the jungle to catch up. School should be over for her by the time she gets this letter, and he asks how she did and whether she knows yet if she'll graduate in spring. He reports that a number of men from his unit went to the village the previous night to relieve their sexual frustration — some succeeded, but most were targeted by local children who steal anything of value, and the same children act as go-betweens for the women. He states plainly that he didn't go, and says he's telling her because he thought she might be interested in what goes on over there. He notes he's been faithful for the 85 days he's been in-country, calculates a June 12 out-date with a little over 300 days left, and ends abruptly — without a formal sign-off — saying he has to go and will start another letter.
What the letter is
5 August 1970 — a second, shorter letter written the same day as the longer Ripcord letter, from the beach rather than the field. Most of it is ordinary: a Daytona Beach daydream, an admission of falling behind on correspondence, a question about graduation. Then, without much preamble, Charlie reports something he witnessed rather than participated in — a group of men from his unit visiting a nearby village the night before — and tells Terrie plainly that he’s naming it because he thought she’d want to know what the war actually looked like around him, not just the parts of it that were dangerous.
Transcription
Aug 5
Dear Terrie,
I’m here at the beach now and will be out in the jungle again tomorrow. It was very relaxing. It is hard to say when I’ll be back in from the field again, but please just keep on writing.
I can’t wait til I get back and can go to Daytona Beach with you. It will probably seem freezing down there for me.
Once again I didn’t get anywhere near the letters written that I wanted to. I guess I’ll have to wait for a more peaceful time in the jungle.
School should be over for you by the time you receive this letter. How did you do? Do you know yet whether you will graduate next spring?
A lot of guys went down to the village last night to relieve their horniness. Some succeeded, but most were attacked by the children, who will swipe anything of value you have. The kids also pimp for the girls. I didn’t go down. I just thought you
[page 2:] might be interested in what goes on over here.
I’ve been a good boy for the 85 days I’ve been over here so far.
As things now stand I’ll be home June 12, so I have a little over 300 days left over here. I’m counting every day.
We’ll have to go now so I’ll end the letter now & start another one.
What the letter records
A report, not a confession. “I didn’t go down. I just thought you might be interested in what goes on over here.” Charlie is careful to place himself outside the events he describes, and frames the whole passage as information rather than anecdote — closer in register to his combat reports than to anything intimate. “I’ve been a good boy for the 85 days” reads as the point of the whole paragraph: an accounting of his own fidelity, using what he’d just described as the visible standard he’s measuring himself against.
The village economy of a war zone. Children stealing from the men who came to the village, and acting as brokers for the women — a single, unglamorous paragraph that says more about the war’s effect on the surrounding Vietnamese population than almost anything else in the surviving corpus, which otherwise focuses on Charlie’s own unit and its patrols.
No sign-off. The letter simply stops — “I’ll end the letter now & start another one” — without the “Love, Charles” that closes nearly every other letter in the collection. Whatever the second letter was meant to be, if it was written the same day, either it didn’t survive or it is the longer Ripcord letter itself.
Daytona Beach, dreamed of from an actual beach. A small, wry detail — Charlie pictures the beach he wants to visit with Terrie while writing from a beach he’s only passing through on his way back to the jungle.
Scans
