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Letter to Terrie, 2 January 1971 — a booby trap, Tet rumors, and the drop
Charlie's letter to Terrie dated 2 January 1971, from the Da Nang rear. He has two of her Christmas-dated letters and reassures her that he loves her and that his single focus is getting out of Vietnam as soon as possible. The news he relays from his old company: no contact since he left, but one man hit a booby trap and lost a foot — 'bad but not death anyway.' Rumors of a Tet offensive that will determine when and how large a 'drop' (early-out curtailment) he receives; Hawaii R&R is still on if no drop comes first. He cracks that D.C. just got 14 inches of snow, says he is cold and rainy but keeping warm, and closes telling Terrie to keep writing and not to get so philosophical about their relationship. Intimate lines elided per the collection's editorial policy.
What the letter is
2 January 1971. The first letter of the new year, and every line of it points at the exit. Charlie has two of Terrie’s Christmas letters and answers the worry underneath them — I love you so don’t worry — before naming the one thing that actually occupies him: getting out of Vietnam as fast as the Army will allow. The news from his old company is the war at one remove: no contact since he left, but a man hit a booby trap and lost a foot. Bad but not death anyway. The rest is the machinery of leaving — the Tet-offensive rumor that will size his “drop,” and Hawaii still penciled in if the early-out doesn’t beat it.
Transcription
Jan 2
Dear Terrie,
Well I got two letters from you dated X-mas. It seems I upset you a little with one of my letters. I love you so don’t worry. I’m just primarily concerned with my getting myself out of here this year as soon as possible. Everything will work out after that. Rumors as to when I get out of here are hard to describe to you. All I know is that the days are continuing to pass [slowly]. (I just heard D.C. got 14 inches of snow.) It is cold here and rainy but I’m able to keep warm. I hear from our company there has been no contact since I’ve been here but that one guy hit a booby trap and [lost] his foot. Bad but not death anyway.
They talk of a Tet offensive which will determine when & how much of a drop I get over here. Hawaii is still in if I don’t get a drop. […]
As for as throwing away your nightie — save your money because I don’t think I’ll allow you to wear one. […]
I guess I’ll end this letter now. I’ll have to write some other[s] now too. Keep writing and don’t worry about our relationship. Just don’t get so philosophical.
Love Charlie
What the letter records
“Bad but not death anyway.” The whole moral economy of an infantryman’s late tour in one line. A lost foot is reported almost as good news, because the measure that matters now is survival. Charlie has come off the line; the booby trap landed on someone still on it, and he registers the difference plainly.
“I’m just primarily concerned with my getting myself out of here.” No apology for it. By January 1971 the war had become, for Charlie, a thing to be exited as cleanly and quickly as possible — and the Hawaii plan, the drop rumors, and the countdown are all instruments toward that one end.
“Don’t get so philosophical.” The closing note to Terrie is characteristic: affection delivered with a deflection. Her Christmas letters had clearly turned introspective about the relationship and the distance; his answer is to reassure her, then wave off the philosophizing and ask her to just keep writing.
Scans
