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letter
Letter to Terrie, 7 September 1970 — the firebases evacuate for the monsoon, and honeymoon ideas
Charlie's two-page letter to Terrie dated 7 September 1970, reassembled from its scans (dad306 page 1, dad307 page 2). Still in the mountains just inside the first ridgeline, he reports that firebases O'Reilly, Katheryn, and others have been evacuated ahead of the monsoon — not because they're unsafe, just because they're easier positions to live from, with better sleeping and food. He's sorry to hear about her money troubles, jokes about how he'd tease her constantly if they went camping together given the lizards and strange noises he deals with nightly, and clarifies he doesn't require her to graduate before they marry, though he'd prefer it; she could finish in summer school and they could honeymoon later. He rules out a honeymoon near 'Rocky' if her parents live close by, since they'd already be seeing them enough, and floats New Orleans, New England, or Canada instead, with no hurry to decide. He touches on an unclear local storm reference, admits he doesn't know for certain what he wants to do career-wise after the Army beyond that he liked catering and his brother Jay didn't, mentions a hello from Abbott and no answer yet from Marty, notes the weather cooling toward the monsoon, and presses her to confirm whether a $130 check arrived, telling her to save it or use it as needed.
What the letter is
7 September 1970, written just as the monsoon begins reshaping how the war in the mountains is fought — firebases abandoned not from enemy pressure but from weather. Charlie folds a small correction about marriage timing (graduation isn’t a condition, just a preference) into a wider conversation about where to honeymoon, what he might do for work after the Army, and the ordinary logistics of a $130 check that needs tracking down.
Transcription
Sept 7
Dear Terrie,
I’m still in the mountains just inside the first ridgeline. The other firebases have been evacuated — O’Reilly, Katheryn, etc. — because of the monsoon. The firebases aren’t really safe, just easier to live on. Better place to sleep and better food.
Too bad about your money problem[s]. I guess it would be nice to go camping with you. I would probably laugh at you constantly. You ought to see the lizards and hear the strange noises over here. I hate it over here though.
No, I don’t mean you [have] to be [graduated] before marriage, but it would be mine [preference]. I said earlier you could probably finish in [the] summer and we could go on a honeymoon later in the summer. No, I don’t want to go to Rocky. If your parents live there we would be there enough. I was thinking of New Orleans or New England, or maybe Canada. No hurry.
As far as [the] Sea and White Oak [question], I realize that the storm I was in was a real one,
[page 2:] but I guess I will go back to any [job] I wanted. Also, I don’t know what I want to do for sure. I liked catering and I knew Jay didn’t. I have to worry about getting out of the army first.
Abbott wrote and says Hi. I wrote to Marty but no answer yet.
It seems to be getting cooler with the [cold,] rainy weather approaching. Down to 80°, which is pretty cool over here.
I guess you should be starting school soon. Did you get [the] $130 check yet? I definitely want to know if you got it, or else I will have to check up on it. I want you to save it and I will send you more if I don’t use up all the cash on hand. If you really want to, you can use it if you need to — no use in having you run short.
I’ll end this letter now and start another before I send this.
Love Charles
What the letter records
The mountains, empty by weather. “The firebases aren’t really safe, just easier to live on.” Charlie’s blunt correction of whatever assumption Terrie made — that the evacuated firebases meant a quieter or safer war — is characteristic of how carefully he manages her picture of the danger without ever pretending it isn’t there.
Graduation as preference, not condition. “I don’t mean you have to be graduated before marriage, but it would be mine.” A small but real distinction, softening the pressure he’s applied elsewhere in the corpus about her degree — see the 3 October letter’s “that damn diploma” — into a stated wish rather than a requirement.
A honeymoon, and a job, still both unsettled. New Orleans, New England, or Canada; catering, which he liked, over whatever his brother Jay didn’t — both decisions are held loosely, deferred behind the one fixed constraint that actually governs everything: “I have to worry about getting out of the army first.”
The $130 check. A small, practical worry stated with real urgency — “I definitely want to know if you got it, or else I will have to check up on it” — the same attentive money-management that runs through the 29 August letter’s wedding-cost planning.
Scans
