Letter to Terrie, 5 March 1971 — 'I arrived yesterday and am now at Quang Tri'

What the letter is

5 March 1971. Charlie types this one — the typewriter itself is the tell that he is at a rear-area desk job, not in the field. He arrived at Quang Tri the day before and expects to be there about eight weeks. He has a room of his own, not much to do yet, and a clear-eyed contempt for the career soldiers around him. 101 days left on the clock. The anxious thread of the letter is the Hawaii R&R: rumor has it all R&Rs are canceled while the unit is at Quang Tri, which would blow the dates he had lined up against Terrie’s spring break. He has signed up anyway and is waiting to see.

Transcription

March 5

Dear Terrie,

I know I haven’t written any letters for a few days but neither have I received any from anyone. It seems that all the planes are being used in this offensive underway in Laos. I arrived yesterday and am now at Quang Tri where I’ll probably be for the next 8 weeks or so. So far it hasn’t been bad at all. I finally have a room of my own and everything is quite nice so far. There isn’t that much to do yet so I’m typing you this letter. Working with all this brass and lifers I really have developed an even greater hatred for the military. They are on the whole a really pathetic group. As of this writing I only have 101 days left. I should be able to survive any of this nonsense now so I guess it may be that long till I see you. From the rumors I’ve heard all R&Rs have been canceled while we are here in Quang Tri. If that is the case I won’t be able to go to Hawaii on the dates of your Spring break. I signed up for it anyway but I will have to wait and see. I guess if things work out we could still go somewhere together when I get back. I’m really sort of mad that things aren’t going to work out.

Larry Abbott is up here and is less than 3 miles from me. I haven’t seen him yet but I called him last night and he was on guard so I left a message for him. We should be able to get together some time in the not to distant future. I’m stuck in this room tonight also (in case the phone rings) and I’ll try to write another letter then if I have anythig more to say. I LOVE YOU!

Love,

Charles

What the letter records

“Working with all this brass and lifers.” By March 1971 Charlie has come off the line and into a rear-area job — the typed letter, the room of his own, the phone he has to sit by, the “office” world he describes in the surrounding letters. Lifer was the universal draftee-era word for a career soldier, and Charlie’s loathing of the institution is the steadiest note in the whole correspondence; here he says rear duty has only sharpened it.

The R&R that might not happen. Hawaii was the R&R destination for married and about-to-be-married servicemen, and it carried a seven-day allowance rather than the usual five because of the distance. Charlie had timed his against Terrie’s spring break. The rumor that R&Rs were canceled at Quang Tri was a direct consequence of Lam Son 719 swallowing the aircraft, and the worry runs through the next several letters until the trip is finally re-anchored.

“101 days left.” The countdown that paces the spring 1971 letters. It would keep dropping — 88, 81 — as “drops,” the early-out curtailments handed down as the U.S. drew its forces out of Vietnam, kept shaving the number.

Larry Abbott. One of the named friends who surface in the letters; here, close enough to reach by field phone but not yet seen.