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letter
Letter to Terrie, 22 December 1970 — a bad outlook for the drop, and 'Budda'
Charlie's two-page letter to Terrie dated 22 December 1970, reassembled from its scans (dad255 page 1, dad256 page 2). He encloses an article from the army paper that 'speaks for itself,' and reports that things look bad for a drop of any size — he may be in country until May or even June, so the reunion may be Hawaii in March or April after all. He's more fearful of returning to the field than ever, has about 175 days left, and has started reading to pass the time. The second page is a rueful self-portrait: back up to 185 pounds, losing his hair, promising to send a photo anyway, and reporting that the kids across the wire have nicknamed him 'Budda.'
What the letter is
22 December 1970. Charlie encloses a clipping from the army paper and lets it carry the bad news he then restates: no drop of any real size is coming, so he may be stuck in country until May or June. That pushes the reunion back toward a Hawaii R&R in March or April. The dominant feeling is dread — “I’m getting more fearful of returning to the field than ever” — offset by the short-timer’s mantra that “time marches on.” The second page turns the lens on himself, half-joking: heavier, balding, and christened “Budda” by the children across the wire.
Transcription
Dec 22
Dear Terrie,
Enclosed is an article from the army paper we get here. It speaks for itself.
Also things look bad for a drop of any great size so I may be here til May and maybe June. If that is the case then I’ll [meet] you in Hawaii in March or April or so I guess. Things are really messed up and I’m getting more fearful of returning to the field than ever. Oh well, at least time marches on. At most now I have around 175 days left over here. I’m starting to read and all just to pass the time.
I weighed myself and I’m up to 185 again. I don’t have much hair left honey — sorry about that. It really shows up when I take a picture. I’ll send you one anyway in a few days. The kids on the other side of the [wire] call me Budda! How does that grab you. Everything is fine here. Hope to hear from you soon.
Love Charles
What the letter records
“More fearful of returning to the field than ever.” Charlie was in a rear job by late 1970, but the assignment was never guaranteed, and the dread of being sent back forward is the steady undertone of the December letters — the same fear that the 18 December “children at the fence” letter shows could be triggered by something as small as refusing an order at a guard post.
“Budda.” The self-deprecating heart of the letter: heavier, balding, and nicknamed by the Vietnamese children across the wire. The same kids who appear elsewhere as a security problem are here just kids who’ve given the round American sergeant a name.
“I’m starting to read… just to pass the time.” The short-timer’s war reduced to waiting — books as a way to burn the 175 days. It’s the same register as the 14 January “1:45 a.m., can’t sleep” letter a few weeks later.
Scans
