Across from me were two Red Cross workers I took to be Danes. They didn't seem to speak English and wouldn't have anything to do with us, wearing a sort of fuck-the-Americans-but-we-will-ride-in-your-airplanes look on their smug blond faces. Considering all the business we were drumming up for the Red Cross, I couldn't understand the attitude of these two. I mean, shit, without us, there wouldn't be any need for them. -Paul Young
John,
Mom asked me to write to you because at the moment she can't find the words. You scared us both with your last letter. I think she's been crying.
I've been wondering (Mom won't let me watch the news at night in case they show something... I don't know what) what it looks like where you are. I know there's a lot of jungles, but Mom mentioned rice paddies too What do those look like? And you said you live in a camp, what's that like? What are the men in your unit like (besides David of course)?
Oh, and Mom wants to know if you got our package. I picked out the books. I hope you like them. Mom has also been wondering if you'd like to receive the newspaper, because she'll send it to you.
Listen, John... I know you're in a war and you see people die and stuff, but I don't think Mom had the heart to see you through twelve months of it. You haven't seen her. She's really worried, talks of hardly anything but you.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, tone it down or write the really bad stuff to me. I'm telling you, John, I don't think she's got it in her.
Love,
Bernie
PS She sends her love.