← Part of Letters from Vietnam
letter
Letter to Terrie, 17 February 1971 — the typing job, the R&R allocation, and the stereo
Charlie's three-page letter to Terrie dated 17 February 1971, reassembled from its scans (dad158 page 1, dad159 page 2, dad160 page 3). His typing/clerk job orders are finally on the way and he's eager to get settled before the Army changes its mind. He maps the R&R logistics: an allocation for Hawaii in the April 9-19 window, with allocations coming down in early March; he needs a firm commitment from Terrie — 'no last minute backing out' — and suggests she clear it with her parents. His money is tied up in the savings-deposit plan and can only be drawn for R&R, so he can't send much until they meet. His letters and her package have caught up. The stereo is coming together: the rest is ordered and should reach home by late March, Japanese-made — a TEAC tape deck, two 80-watt Pioneer speakers, and a Pioneer receiver — though the record player isn't ordered yet. He couldn't play her tape (wrong speed), teases her about a failing grade, registers that she seems anxious to get married, and notes the 101st will probably go into the A Shau soon with a lot of activity coming, but he should be out of it.
What the letter is
17 February 1971. The administrative machinery of the late tour, all turning at once: the clerk-typist orders are finally on the way, the R&R allocation for an April Hawaii window is being lined up, and the stereo he’s been assembling by mail is nearly complete. Charlie is in logistics mode — allocation dates, a demand for a firm commitment from Terrie, the savings-plan cash-flow problem — with the war pushed to a single sentence at the end: the 101st is going into the A Shau soon, but he should be out of it.
Transcription
Feb 17
Dear Terrie,
I got a call today from my typing job and they said the orders were on the way. I don’t really care but I sure would like to get settled in the job sometime soon before they change their minds. I’ll write you as soon as I find out when I’ll be there.
I should be able to get an allocation for R&R to Hawaii between April 9-19 sometime. The allocations come down in March around the 7-10 or so. I’ll let you know which date and all. Also I’ll need a definite commitment on whether you will be coming. No last minute backing out and all. Maybe you should clear it
[page 2:] with your parents. Just tell them I’m horny and something has to be done for my situation. I don’t really want to go to Hawaii unless you are there. I can always cancel my allocation but then I have to wait a month before I get another chance. All my money is in that 20% deal and I can take some out for R&R but not at any other time. I’ll have enough but I can’t give you much until we meet in Hawaii.
All your letters have caught up including your package. Thanks! I still haven’t ordered my record player but the rest has been ordered and should make it home by late March. It is Japanese [made].
[page 3:] I got a TEAC tape deck and 2 Pioneer speakers (80 watts) and [a] Pioneer receiver. I tried to play your tape several weeks ago but the speed you used makes it sound funny. I know you had some songs on it. Tell your teacher he probably did the right thing. I think you are probably lucky you got an F. How dumb can you get? You seem anxious to get married again. You better not scare me or I’ll stay over here another year or so. Well, not much else to say right now. The 101st will probably [be] going into the A Shau soon. There is going to be a lot of activity in a few more weeks. I should be out of it. I still love you.
Love Charles
What the letter records
“No last minute backing out.” The R&R allocation forced a commitment, and Charlie presses Terrie for a firm yes — the trip couldn’t be claimed and then casually dropped. The whole spring’s planning runs on this kind of deadline pressure from the Army’s calendar.
The stereo, itemized. This is the fullest inventory of the audio system that recurs across the winter letters — TEAC deck, Pioneer speakers and receiver, turntable still to come. It’s the most concrete piece of the civilian future Charlie was buying himself, component by component, from a clerk’s desk.
“You seem anxious to get married again.” A glancing line that confirms the engagement was settled and the wedding was now the open question — with Charlie deflecting, as ever, with a joke (“you better not scare me or I’ll stay over here another year”).
“I should be out of it.” The A Shau operation — part of the Lam Son 719 push — is named in one sentence and held at arm’s length. The rear job had done its work: the war was now something he watched other companies walk into.
Scans
