December 9, 1969

My dearest B,

We are finally back from our first patrol. I think that might have been one of the longest weeks in my life. Sleeping outside has always been something that soothed me, helped me think; but not here. Not only was I aware of the possibility of ambush in the middle of the night by humans, but there are some truly terrifying animals here. In the woods back home, I never had to fear a tiger happening upon me. Even the snakes here are nothing compared to the ones back home, at least our poisonous ones tend to give warning before striking. The men made sure to tell me each and every encounter they have had with these creatures while we waited to load into the choppers to take us to our patrol area. I think they were hoping to scare me, don't tell them but they succeeded a little bit. I had the most fitful night's sleep ever outside. Fortunately, though, we encountered no dangerous wild animals.

Patrolling itself was long and hard and I don't think I have been completely dry since we hopped off the choppers. We walked for miles through jungle and rice paddies. It's quiet when we walk for the most part, everyone is on guard. Tension is so thick you could cut it, especially when we are in an open area. It's strange always feeling like your life is on the line. We didn't encounter any Vietcong and the only injury I had to deal with was Bradford got his foot caught under a root and broken his ankle. We had to call the medivac in to take him to hospital. He is pretty new here so they will probably send him back to country when he has healed.

I may have to figure out something when it comes to food. Our c-rations are pretty limited, and while I can usually get one of the guys to trade with me, especially if I throw in the cigarettes that come in the rations, I think I will get tired of eating nothing by fruit cocktail for weeks on end. I received a lot of funny looks when I told them I didn't eat meat, but they are at least nice about it. We do get one hot meal brought in by chopper every day or sometimes every other day, but once again, they are filled with meat (or some meat substitute I'm still not sure). I do what I can though, and so far I have still kept from eating meat and I am going strong as ever. I just know that I need to think of something soon.

It's funny I think I have had more encounters with drugs here than I ever did at home. I don't really have a problem if people want to get high. The only reason I wouldn't allow them at the farm is it didn't want any reason for the cops to start snooping around the place. I understand the need to escape, and it seems the men here have even more to escape from. It is not uncommon to see a guy puffing on a joint, usually at the end of the day. It's not as if pot is hard to come by, several times on patrol we would see plants just growing in the wild. Part of me wishes I could escape with them, but I feel obligated to keep a clear head. If I am out of it, these guys could die. I have to do my job; I am here to save people.

We're being shelled again. I just want one night's good sleep. How long can a man survive without sleep? I hope a year; my nerves are already on edge. God, I just with you could hold me. I love you never forget that. I can't see what I am writing anymore; we are on blackout. A head out again in two days so I will write more later.

All my loving,
K

December 13, 1969

B,

I long for the comfort of your arms. We are back from our patrol early because we were attacked. We came upon an abandoned camp and we were ordered to explore it to try to figure out where they were headed to or what their mission was. A booby-trap was set under a stack of maps. It blew Davis' hand clear off. After that first cry for 'medic' the chaos didn't stop. I don't really know what was going one, but I was running around doing what I could. It is nothing like the training back in Houston. There were no cries of pain, no scared eyes staring back at me pleading me to help them, to not let them die. I did what I could. When the shooting stopped, Grubbs told me later they killed the three men responsible, I was covered in blood. Half of our men were wounded in some way, and two lay dead. I wasn't good enough to save them.

They pulled us out of there'd and sent Delta Company in instead.

I let them down. I couldn't do what I needed to do, and now two men are dead. Johnson was only 18, and all I could do for him was hold his hand and lie to him. I had to look into his terrified eyes and tell him he was going to be all right. I knew it wasn't I knew that I couldn't save him; I knew he was going to die. But I had to hold his hand and make promised I knew I couldn't keep. I hate this and I hate myself. I don't feel like I am helping, I am just here to patch up when I can so they can be sent out again, or offer false platitudes when I can't. Ricky Johnson did not deserve to die.

Patterson was dead before he hit the ground.

Davis, and three others were sent by medivac, I don't know if I will hear if they made it or not. I just have to hope that they do.

Artie said that no one blames me for the deaths. He said something about them depending on me. I don't know if I deserve that trust. The first time I am called to do something other than give pills and check rashes and I lose two men.

The guys have started calling me Doc now. They said now I am truly a medic. Some of the guys are calling me Doc Porcelain, they have always picked fun at me for how pale I am, but said I get even whiter when 'I am in the zone'. I don't think they realize I was scared shitless. I don't deserve the name, I let them down.

I just feel worthless. Please tell me you still love me. I need your love right now more than anything.

I love you,
K

December 16, 1969

Merry Christmas, B!

Well it's not Christmas yet, but by the time you get this letter it will be. It still amazes me how long it takes for my letters to get to you, and vice versa. And to think it used to be so hard to wait for you to come back to the farm every weekend. That wait seems like nothing now. It's been quiet around here lately, well as quiet as it gets. They haven't been sending us out on patrol because they are waiting until we get some new men in and for the rest of the guys to recover some before they send us back out. Of course that means I still have my duties, but it has been nice to know that none of my men will be shot today. Oh, and thank you for the multiple jars of peanut butter, they will indeed help when we are back to patrolling. Peanut butter sandwiches on the rolls they send with our rations, does seem like a better idea than just the bread and fruit. Thank you for thinking of it.

The new guys should be coming in tonight, so I expect us to go out tomorrow. The break from patrolling has been nice. This should be Artie's last patrol; he is set to leave next week. He says this has been the longest most hellish year he has ever had, but he is ready to go home. I'm just glad he will be going home in one piece. I will miss him though. It has been nice having someone who actually calls me by my name. All the other guys call me Doc or Porcelain, some even all me D.P. for Doc Porcelain. I know that it means they accept me, but it is nice to be reminded sometimes that I am still just Kurt.

Sorry, there is no Christmas present to accompany this letter. Shopping opportunities are nonexistent and my unlimited time to create personalized art is a rarity as well. Since I can't physically give you anything, I will just have to send you all the love I can. I know I was hopeless in my last letter, but just thinking of you and knowing you are waiting for me helped me more than you could possibly know. Through the hard times, I just have to think of you and eventually it gets better. Even though I haven't even gotten your response to that letter, I know that you are there and your words will help heal the broken parts of me. You are my shelter throughout all this. I love you and will continue to do what I can to come home to you. I am counting down the days until I leave this brutal place and can be in your arms once more. I wish I could be with you on our first Christmas, but I hope I can be so bold as to say we will have many more. I love you.

All my loving,
K

December 22, 1969

Oh, B,
It seems like just when I think I am beginning to handle everything, things get worse. I don't know how I am going to survive my time here and not lose my mind. We were on patrol, and hadn't seen anybody all day. I thought that was a good thing, but apparently the locals all know when the Vietcong have been in the area and they steer clear. We were walking down a path that the guys said they had patrolled many times before. I was at the back of the group when there was an explosion up ahead. I knew who it was as soon as I heard them call my name. Not Doc, not Medic, but Kurt. I rush up ahead and Artie is lying on the ground screaming. A few others were crouched around holding themselves. It didn't take me long to figure out what was wrong with Artie. As I went to kneel beside him, my knee landed on his boot. The mine had blown his legs off. Brant had triggered it, but he just had some cuts on his back and legs. Richardson was dead and Artie who was behind him hand lost his legs.

I had to do my job; I had to try to save my friend's life. I've known him since elementary school and all I could do for him was keeping him from going into shock and try to stop the bleeding. It was harder lying to him and tell him everything was going t be okay. He is my friend, not just some guy I just met last month. He didn't even know his legs were gone, he kept telling me they hurt, but I couldn't risk letting him know what happened. I just hope if he survives that he doesn't hate me. He was three days away from going home in one piece and now it will be either in a body bag or never to walk again.

I don't feel like I am doing any good here. What is the point if I can't help my friend?

I can't even imagine your arms around me. I feel broken and untethered. When did my life turn into this nightmare?

Love,
K

December 24, 1969

B,
They tell me Artie survived. They moved him to a hospital in Japan. I know nothing else.
Love,
K
P.S. 11 months to go.

December 31, 1969

My Dearest B,

I'm sorry that things are tense at home and you should never feel bad for venting about your problems while I am here. I wish that me being in Vietnam was the only problem you encountered, but I know that your life continues and things will happen regardless to what either of us may want. I want you to still feel like you can come to me with your problems. You can't believe how much your last letter helped, you didn't even know about Artie, yet you knew the right things to say. It's true I can only do so much and feeling guilty for not being able to save everyone is not going to help anyone. I guess in the end I would rather have Artie hating me and alive and if that is the price I have to pay for his survival I will take it.

I still feel like I am losing myself here. I don't think I will feel right until I am home. I can't wait to be back in the simplicity of the farm; of working the fields to make things grow, of creating something with my own hands. I long to create again instead of trying to patch the impossible. Two years seems an unfeasible amount of time to feel sane again, I just hope leaving Vietnam will help. One month down and eleven more to go.

I wish I could kiss you at midnight. Maybe next year I will be able to get leave and spend the turning of the year with you. As it is, we are facing a new year, a new decade. Let's hope the 70's bring good with them. I have to go, we head out in an hour, and the men should start showing up soon for their Malaria pills and checkups. Maybe next year this will actually seem like a holiday.

I love you!

All my love,

K

January 22, 1970

My Sweet B,

I hope you are okay, I haven't heard from you in a while. It seems like forever since your last letter, and I am getting kind of worried. It's been almost three weeks. My mind is racing with the possible reasons for your silence. Please write soon, whether it is to tell me to stop contacting you or not. I would understand and do what you wish. Just know you will always have my heart.

Love Always,

K

January 25, 1970

My sweet, wonderful, and most beautiful B,

I feel like an ass now, I just got three letters from you all at once. Apparently they got lost or something. Regardless they are here and I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. After so long not hearing from you, receiving your words of love was like a balm to my aching heart. I never want either of us to feel that ache again. I want you to think of me tonight, think us back to the loft, maybe painting each other again, and think us in each other arms. See it and maybe it will speed up time so we can be together again. You are my rock and my shelter; you keep me from just giving up.

I am staying as safe as possible; we haven't had any major injuries or deaths in the last month. Maybe there is more hope than we thought.

I love you,

K