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letter
Letter to Terrie, 10 October 1970 — 'still alive,' in the lowlands, and hoping Nixon announces a plan
Charlie's short two-page letter to Terrie dated 10 October 1970, reassembled from its scans (dad275 page 1, dad276 page 2), written on a resupply day just to let her know he's still alive. They are in the lowlands for a few days because another company messed up and his unit is taking their place — that company is in the mountains, and he dreads going back up. It isn't raining now, and it doesn't rain as hard in the lowlands as in the mountains; it has rained a few times since he's been back and he's wet now, but so far it hasn't been too bad. On school, now started, he tells her she should at least make dean's list once in her college career. He hasn't heard much of what is going on in the world, but hopes Nixon announces a plan for faster withdrawal from over there. It's just a short note — he must pack everything back together, so he'll close. Signed 'Love, Charles.'
What the letter is
10 October 1970, a resupply-day note of the plainest kind — “I’m writing to let you know I’m still alive.” Two days back in the field after the 8 October departure, Charlie sends the minimum: a weather report (lowlands, wetter but not the mountains), a line of encouragement about her degree, and a hope pinned on the news he can barely get — that “Nixon announces a plan for faster withdrawal.” It is the letter the 6 October warning predicted: brief, resupply-dependent, written to beat the chopper.
Transcription
Oct 10
Dear Terrie,
We got resupplied today so I’m writing to let you know I’m still alive. We are in the lowlands for a few days because some other company here messed up and we are taking their place. They are in the mountains. How I dread going back to the mountains. It isn’t raining now and doesn’t rain as hard in the lowlands as in the mountains. It has rained a few times since I’ve been back and I’m wet now, but so far it hasn’t been too bad.
Well, [as for] school — you say it has started. You should at least make dean’s list once in your college career. I haven’t heard much of what is going on in the world. I hope Nixon announces a plan
[page 2:] for faster withdrawal from over here.
Well, this is just a short note and I must pack everything back together now, so I’ll close.
Love Charles
What the letter records
“I’m still alive.” The whole purpose of the note, stated in the first line. On resupply days a man in the field wrote what he could before the chopper left; the 6 October letter had told Terrie the letters might stop for weeks, so the mere fact of one — proof of life — was the message.
Dean’s list. “You should at least make dean’s list once in your college career.” Even a two-page survival note carries the education push. It is relentless and affectionate — the same insistence on her degree that runs from the training letters through the 3 October letter’s “that damn diploma.”
“I hope Nixon announces a plan.” The hope of the man in the field, cut off from the news, pinned to the politics of the 6 October letter — the “immediate pull out” he was voting for, restated as a wish for a presidential withdrawal timetable that would shorten his own war.
Scans
