emotionally. This war is hell enough without hearing shit like that.
No one slept much last night. I kept thinking about you and me and how much I love you. I know I shouldn’t think this way, but I was glad it wasn’t me that got killed. I love you too damn much to leave you. Right now, I want to hold you so much my arms ache. I’m sorry Bob is dead, sorry Larry’s girl dumped him. I want to get out of this hellhole. When I close my eyes all I see is war. All I hear is the rapid fire of guns and the cries of men like me just hoping to get out of here alive. All I dream about is getting home to you.
Remember how much I love you.
Nick
Jillian’s Diary
September 14, 1968
I’m so glad to be back at school. Dad and I can barely look at each other. It’s impossible to carry on a civil conversation with him. At one time I idolized my father, but I don’t any more. Nick keeps telling me that I’m going to make a great attorney. I refuse to even consider a career in law. If being an attorney means I’ll start thinking and acting like my father, then I don’t want any part of it. Mom, who attempts to play the role of peacemaker, says it’s because Dad and I are so much alike.
I sincerely hope she’s wrong. My father actually told me to my face that he didn’t raise his daughter to be a Democrat. He spits out the word as if it’s going to dirty his mouth.
Politics is only one of the things we fight about. He knows I love Nick and that we’re planning to get married once he’s home from Vietnam. But my father still refuses to accept him and insists on introducing me to other men. Men he considers more “suitable” than Nick. Rich boys who’d race to Canada at the hint of a draft notice.
He doesn’t like my music. He thinks The Doors and Jefferson Airplane are tools of the devil. My wardrobe upsets him, too. What’s so revolutionary about bellbottoms and sandals? Anyway, I don’t care what he thinks. I’m just grateful to be out from under his domination.
Nick thought coming home for the summer would be good for me, but he was wrong. I doubt I’ll return for Christmas, feeling the way I do about my father.
This wasn’t a good summer for Lesley, either. Selfishly Buck insisted on uprooting her and the kids and making them move to California to be with him. That meant we hardly had a minute together at all. Lesley’s life is so different from mine. I was afraid that after her marriage we’d drift apart, but she’s still the only person in the world who truly understands my feelings. She’s the only one who accepts my love for Nick.
In her last letter, Lesley said she’s scared she might be pregnant again. I hope not, for her sake. Buck’s the kind of man who likes his women barefoot and pregnant. With two babies already, the last thing she needs is a third child. I don’t know why she refuses to take the pill. The Catholic Church’s stand on that issue is right out of the Dark Ages.
I’ve got to stop watching the television news about Vietnam. Last night there was all this talk about the aftermath of the Tet Offensive and how the death toll keeps rising. My dreams were filled with war and worries about Nick. I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding so hard I could barely catch my breath. It took a long time before I was able to calm down and remember it was just a dream and that Nick’s perfectly fine. If anything happened to him my heart would know it, I’m sure of that.
***
Outside Khe Sanh in South Vietnam
September 15, 1968
Dear Jimmy,
I promised I’d write as often as I could, but it’s been a while. I’ve discovered that jotting down a few lines to send home helps ease the tension. We all look for ways to keep our minds off the war. That’s one reason getting mail from home means so much. I carry the letters from you, Dad and Jillian with me. I’ve read them all so many times they’re falling apart. The ones from Jillian I’ve committed to memory. Her letters, and
No one slept much last night. I kept thinking about you and me and how much I love you. I know I shouldn’t think this way, but I was glad it wasn’t me that got killed. I love you too damn much to leave you. Right now, I want to hold you so much my arms ache. I’m sorry Bob is dead, sorry Larry’s girl dumped him. I want to get out of this hellhole. When I close my eyes all I see is war. All I hear is the rapid fire of guns and the cries of men like me just hoping to get out of here alive. All I dream about is getting home to you.
Remember how much I love you.
Nick
Jillian’s Diary
September 14, 1968
I’m so glad to be back at school. Dad and I can barely look at each other. It’s impossible to carry on a civil conversation with him. At one time I idolized my father, but I don’t any more. Nick keeps telling me that I’m going to make a great attorney. I refuse to even consider a career in law. If being an attorney means I’ll start thinking and acting like my father, then I don’t want any part of it. Mom, who attempts to play the role of peacemaker, says it’s because Dad and I are so much alike.
I sincerely hope she’s wrong. My father actually told me to my face that he didn’t raise his daughter to be a Democrat. He spits out the word as if it’s going to dirty his mouth.
Politics is only one of the things we fight about. He knows I love Nick and that we’re planning to get married once he’s home from Vietnam. But my father still refuses to accept him and insists on introducing me to other men. Men he considers more “suitable” than Nick. Rich boys who’d race to Canada at the hint of a draft notice.
He doesn’t like my music. He thinks The Doors and Jefferson Airplane are tools of the devil. My wardrobe upsets him, too. What’s so revolutionary about bellbottoms and sandals? Anyway, I don’t care what he thinks. I’m just grateful to be out from under his domination.
Nick thought coming home for the summer would be good for me, but he was wrong. I doubt I’ll return for Christmas, feeling the way I do about my father.
This wasn’t a good summer for Lesley, either. Selfishly Buck insisted on uprooting her and the kids and making them move to California to be with him. That meant we hardly had a minute together at all. Lesley’s life is so different from mine. I was afraid that after her marriage we’d drift apart, but she’s still the only person in the world who truly understands my feelings. She’s the only one who accepts my love for Nick.
In her last letter, Lesley said she’s scared she might be pregnant again. I hope not, for her sake. Buck’s the kind of man who likes his women barefoot and pregnant. With two babies already, the last thing she needs is a third child. I don’t know why she refuses to take the pill. The Catholic Church’s stand on that issue is right out of the Dark Ages.
I’ve got to stop watching the television news about Vietnam. Last night there was all this talk about the aftermath of the Tet Offensive and how the death toll keeps rising. My dreams were filled with war and worries about Nick. I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding so hard I could barely catch my breath. It took a long time before I was able to calm down and remember it was just a dream and that Nick’s perfectly fine. If anything happened to him my heart would know it, I’m sure of that.
***
Outside Khe Sanh in South Vietnam
September 15, 1968
Dear Jimmy,
I promised I’d write as often as I could, but it’s been a while. I’ve discovered that jotting down a few lines to send home helps ease the tension. We all look for ways to keep our minds off the war. That’s one reason getting mail from home means so much. I carry the letters from you, Dad and Jillian with me. I’ve read them all so many times they’re falling apart. The ones from Jillian I’ve committed to memory. Her letters, and
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