A Letter from Home

(Fanfiction story by Vintage55)

Tully Pettigrew and Mark Hitchcock were having a quiet day at their base at Ras Tanura. After a hotdog lunch at the mess hall, they decided to walk over to the PX and see if either one of them had received any new mail. Sure enough, Tully had one letter from his dad, Mitch Pettigrew, back in Kentucky.

Tully was happy to read his letter out loud so that Hitch could also hear it. The letter had been written a month ago.

"Dear Tully, (aka "Son #1")

Nothing much new on the Harlan County home-front. Our sawmill is doing great – problem now is finding enough help to keep it running for two full shifts every day. Both your grandpa and I work a full shift six days a week, as the orders just keep on coming. Your mom and the older kids are doing a pretty fair job taking care of the farm.

I'm also working as the bouncer at the Relaxation Station Bar and Grille in Evarts four nights a week – your Uncle Hank is doing a great job running the place. You know Hank's not one to talk much, so he likes having your grandpa and me there to be the social butterflies and the bouncers, as needed.

Last week, we had two fistfights get started, both by Myron Loomis after he's had way too much to drink. Poor Myron hasn't been the same since he got the telegram from the Marines a couple of months ago telling him that his youngest son, Jerry, had been KIA at Guadalcanal in the Pacific.

I just let Myron sleep it off in the old barn behind the Bar, then take him home after we close up at 1 AM. ( Please don't feel like you have to put me through the same situation – your mother cried for hours when we got notified that you had been seriously wounded four months ago, and your brothers and sisters were real upset, too, until we got the letter from you giving us the great news that you were still alive and kicking…Thank God.)

By the way, tell Mark Hitchcock that he doesn't have to take any shit from you – from the way he tells it, you are quite skilled at having some fun at his expense. He told me about that dog you had trained to growl at him. That was pretty funny, but don't ever be so intent at being a joker that you put your friendships in jeopardy – good friends are hard to find! (Don't worry, I'll still be giving you advise when you're my age, just like your Granddad still gives me…)

Please do be as careful as possible – I miss you more than you can imagine, and your younger brothers are still kids – they're handfuls, but so were you at their age, but you now have the maturity (most of the time?) to be great company and a very insightful young man. (Must run in the family…)

Write back if and when you can, and know that you are very loved and very missed on the homefront. You guys are always in my prayers. Love, DAD.

Hitch noticed that Tully's eyes were watery, as he refolded the letter and put it back in his pocket.

"You know, you're lucky to have him as your dad. He still drops me a line now and then, and he's always funny and reassuring, all at once. I heard that the Army may be getting your dad a medal for bravery and fortitude for writing to both of us!" said Hitch.

"Ah, he writes to loads of people from back home – you get more news and gossip from him than you do in the newspaper! He knows just about everyone, and one of his best friends is a federal revenue agent who's busted him for making moonshine, back in the early 1930's, when there weren't many jobs around.

The revenuers would just bust up the still, dump out whatever hooch was easy to find, then let him go back home. Those guys knew he was feeding his own family and lots of his neighbors, and that the moonshine we brewed was good whiskey that wouldn't poison anyone. Some of the other home-brewers would run the stuff through old batteries, or cut the raw whiskey with industrial alcohol, which could kill you or make you blind. We've always made a good product."

"Does your family still make whiskey?' asked Hitch.

Tully smiled. "I'll never tell. It's the people who talk about it too much that get caught!"

(THE END)