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Letter to Terrie, 5 August 1970 — Firebase Ripcord's shelling, company losses, and 'just homesick'
Charlie's four-page letter to Terrie dated 5 August 1970, reassembled from its scans (dad324 page 1, dad325 page 2, dad326 page 3, dad327 page 4). Most of their operations have been around Firebase Katherine, with some contact but not much — nothing like Firebase Ripcord, which he had left in June before it was hit with over 1,000 shells in the months that followed; he's glad he isn't in it and hopes he never experiences an NVA shelling. He's drinking cokes and listening to someone's Beatles tape after a relaxing week, expects the next week around a firebase just over the first ridgeline, and now carries the radio so he's better informed. A company elsewhere in the battalion lost 12 men killed; his own company hasn't lost anyone since he's been there, though D Company lost 9 two weeks earlier — 'it's not all easy over here.' Between the war news: he isn't worried about a Japan trip his sister Joanne floated (she wouldn't be coming along anyway), his dad seems to be doing well since everyone in his office bought a $3,500 company car, and he's been horny and homesick these last few days, feeling that it's easier to write from the field than in the rear. He asks whether her dad is loaning her $500 and says he doesn't want to marry into a big debt — they may have to wait a year or two until she's solvent. He closes expecting a long day tomorrow and warns it may be a week before the next letter.
What the letter is
5 August 1970, four pages written during a “relaxing week” of operations around Firebase Katherine. The letter’s spine is a comparison Charlie draws without being asked: he had been at Firebase Ripcord in June, before it turned into one of the war’s last major set-piece battles under NVA siege and over a thousand incoming rounds. He got out in time. The rest of the letter moves through the ordinary texture of a rear week — cokes, a Beatles tape, a sister’s travel idea, his father’s new car — before landing on the two things actually on his mind: being far from Terrie, and whether her father’s help with money is a loan he’ll have to help pay off.
Transcription
Aug 5
Dear Terrie,
I’m sending this article back to you. Most of our operations were around Katherine. We made contact but not a whole lot. Nothing like what Ripcord got after I left it in June — it was hit with over 1000 shells in the months that followed. I’m glad I’m not in it, I have yet to experience a shelling by the NVA and hope I never do. I best pack my pack and get ready for tomorrow.
I’m now drinking cokes and listening to someone’s Beatle[s] tape. It has been a relaxing week. I guess the next week will be around Fire Base [Barbara?] which is just over the first ridgeline and should be relatively safe. I carry a radio now so at least I should be fairly well informed. I certainly don’t expect much contact. I think they are giving the other companies in our battalion a break.
[page 2:] They usually send a whole battalion which work in different directions around the firebase. We never see the others in the field. A company did have trouble. They lost 12 men killed. We haven’t lost any since I’ve been here. D company lost 9 two weeks ago so it’s not all easy over here.
As far as letters taking time, you must remember I’m over half a day ahead of you.
Don’t worry about the Japan trip, I haven’t written to anyone else about it yet. It was Joanne’s suggestion but she wouldn’t be coming. Dad must be doing very well because all three in his office have bought cars. His cost at least $3500 and hasn’t gotten rid of either of the others yet. It is a company car but he owns it. I’m glad for him.
[page 3:] I’ve been very horny these last few days. It has been very relaxing these last few days. My tan isn’t that good but next year it should be better before I come home, because they let you come out of the field the last 30 days or so — that is still a long ways off though. I guess I’m just homesick.
You know it seems like it is easier to write when I’m in the field than here. Not enough quiet time to yourself back here. A lot of the others haven’t written too much either, no excuse because I really would like to catch up and answer some of these other letters. By the way, have you been in touch with my uncle at all. It doesn’t really matter.
Is your dad just loaning you $500 or what? Heaven, that would be terrible. I don’t want to marry a big debt. Maybe we will have to wait a year or two [until] you become solvent. I’ll see wh[at I can do].
[page 4:] It should be a long day tomorrow so I’m going to try to get some sleep so I’ll end now.
It will probably be about a week before the next letter so hang on.
Love Charles
What the letter records
Ripcord, missed. “Nothing like what Ripcord got after I left it in June.” Charlie states his own luck plainly and moves on without dwelling on it — a company-level rotation put him somewhere else before the siege that would make Ripcord one of the war’s last major battles. The corpus rarely names a specific engagement this precisely; it is a rare fixed point against the broader public record.
The arithmetic of losses, again. Twelve dead in one company, nine in D Company two weeks earlier, none yet in his own — the same body count he keeps returning to elsewhere, here delivered in the same breath as a relaxing week of cokes and a Beatles tape. The juxtaposition is not irony so much as the ordinary rhythm of a rear week folded around a combat statistic.
The Japan trip that wasn’t his idea. Joanne’s suggestion, floated and dismissed in two sentences — she wouldn’t even be going. A small window into the family’s habit of proposing reunions and homecomings that never quite work out, echoed later in the actual Hawaii R&R planning that does happen.
“I don’t want to marry a big debt.” The recurring, unromantic accounting that runs under the courtship — apartment costs, wedding costs, and now a possible loan from Terrie’s father. Charlie’s answer is characteristically practical: wait until she’s solvent rather than start married life owing money, the same instinct that shapes his later thinking about an apartment before marriage.
“Easier to write when I’m in the field than here.” A small, honest observation about where his mind settles — not the danger of the field but its quiet, against the noise and idleness of the rear. It’s the same week that produced the second, shorter letter he apparently wrote the same day, restless and unable to get through his backlog of mail either way.
Scans
