Dear Abigail,


I know I haven’t written in a while, but it’s hard out here in ‘Nam. They don’t fight fair. They wait in the bushes like a lion eager and ready to pounce. They do not care for my life like I do not care for theirs. I look at myself and wonder how I will be when I come home. Today, I heard something in the bushes and I reach for my gun without thinking. Without thinking! Remember the guy I was telling you about, Bud? Well, he’s gone now. Bud got shot in the leg. We said the Lord’s Prayer for him, we try to say it for as many of the fallen, but we know we can’t. I wonder how you’ll look at me. If I have seen and done too much to ever be me again. Most of all I wonder if you still wear my pin. The one I gave you before I left. I think this with the heat from the locket you gave me against my chest. I wonder if you found someone named Harry or Greg that will make you forget all about me. The way we would walk under the stars after sneaking on the McDonalds farm still linger in my dreams. How our fingers would intertwine and your blue eyes light up. I think of you often and I hope you think of me. I am writing in the hospital right now. Surprise guess who’s coming home?

Love Always,





Maxwell Anderson