← Part of Letters from Vietnam
letter
Letter to Terrie, 18 December 1970 — the 50-50 odds, and the children at the fence
Charlie's two-page letter to Terrie dated 18 December 1970, reassembled from its scans (dad253 page 1, dad254 page 2). Sober now, he sets out to write a more pleasant letter than a drunken earlier one. The Hawaii reunion is a 50-50 chance depending on whether he gets a 'drop' (early-out) under the 10-month-tour question; he may see her March or April, in Hawaii or stateside, with only a month's warning. A few personal-planning lines are kept private. He's far behind on letters and hopes to catch up. Then the letter's hardest passage: he was almost sent back to the field because he didn't shoot at children to scare them away from a fence near his guard post — and his contempt for the 'lifers' over it. He notes his next letter will go to Maryland (Terrie's move for the spring semester).
What the letter is
18 December 1970. Charlie opens by telling Terrie he’s sober now and will try to write a more pleasant letter than the last one — a small window onto how much of the late-1970 correspondence was written drinking. The body is the usual late-tour limbo: a 50-50 chance of Hawaii depending on the drop, a few quiet lines of personal planning kept between them, the apology for being behind on letters. And then, dropped in almost casually, the single hardest thing he ever reports doing — or refusing to do: he was nearly sent back to the field for not firing at children to scare them off the wire.
Transcription
Dec 18
Dear Terrie,
I got your letter from Dec 12-13 today. I’m sober now so I guess I’ll see if I can write a more pleasant letter today. Yes boom-boom is […] but I’m still waiting for you. At least it won’t cost anything. There is a 50-50 chance of Hawaii. It all depends whether I get a “drop” from here (the 10-month tour). I may see you March or April at the latest, either there or in Hawaii. I’ll be able to give you a month[‘s] warning as that is all I’ll have.
[… a few lines on family planning are kept private at the family’s discretion …]
I’ll send this letter to Thomas. I’m way behind on my letter writing so I hope somehow to catch up in the next few days.
Would you believe that I almost got sent back to the field because I didn’t shoot at children to scare them away from a fence near my guard post? Well if it comes right down to it I’ll be going back to the field. I really hate no end the sorry “lifers” for a day or two.
Well [Merry X-mas] and my next letter will be to Maryland.
Love Charles
What the letter records
“I’m sober now.” The opening is a quiet admission about the texture of the season’s letters — several were written drinking, and this one is an apology-by-tone for an earlier one. The December rear-area lull, the guard shifts, the boredom and the booze all sit behind it.
The 50-50 Hawaii odds. The whole spring’s Hawaii-or-home question is here in embryo, hinging entirely on the drop: if the Army cut his tour, he’d go straight home and skip R&R; if not, he’d take R&R in Hawaii. He can give Terrie only a month’s warning either way.
“My next letter will be to Maryland.” A small but useful marker: Terrie was moving from Marietta to the University of Maryland for the spring 1971 semester, and the letters’ mailing address shifts accordingly right here.
Editorial note: a short passage on family planning is withheld from the public transcription above at the family’s discretion; it is preserved in the family’s copy.
Scans
