He is fully alert but "locked in," paralyzed from the eyes down from a severed brainstem. He is able only to blink, move his eyes up and down, and cry, and there's no hope of his ever doing more than that...
We print the alphabet on a piece of cardboard, so he can communicate more than yes or no. We run a finger along the letter, and he blinks out a message.
Once in the middle of a quiet night he blinks the message "L-E-T M-E D-I-E."... -Winnie Smith, US Army nurse
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Uncle Jake,
I can't tell you just how grateful I am for you volunteering to help my mother and Bernie out. She worries constantly about whether or not she's doing right by us boys. She's always wanted a man in the house, but never found the right one to marry, so don't be surprised if she doesn't want to let you go back to your own home. In all seriousness though, thank you. I'm sure she'll say it a hundred times a day, but I wanted you to know I'm grateful as well.
I'm doing good, despite the rain and mud. Or perhaps because of it. It certainly makes the heat more bearable, even if it makes everything else harder. I have seen some action, yes. We took a prisoner about a week ago. I don't think his information, if he gave any, was good because there hasn't been any word of a large group of NVA passing by or anything, no heightening number of patrols. Our camp has been hit with mortar and/or rocket fire twice, but the colonel is constantly worried. For once, when he told us he though the NVA were going to attack (he's fond of telling us this sort of news over breakfast), I believed him. It's been a while since the last one and there's been more activity lately, when we go out on patrols and such. I'm a little worried, but not much. I'm confident of the abilities of the men in my unit and of those I've met in other units in my company.
Uncle Jake, I've been trying to keep up a strong, brave front for my mother and Bernie, but this war... I'm scared. I've been here about a month, and already a man has died right before my eyes, another wounded, and a third taken prisoner. I've heard the stories of other men who have died. Another unit in my company lost six men in one patrol. Four dead in combat, and the other two have since died of their wounds. I keep telling Mom and Bernie that I'm going to come home, but I don't think I will. If there's no hell, then where am I? I don't want to die, and I don't want to die for this country my father loved and mother still loves. They don't deserve my life, and maybe I don't deserve it either, but if neither of us do, then who does? It can't be God because contrary to other, war has made me more doubtful of God's existence than ever before, not more sure of it.
Tell them that, if I die, I love them. Tell them I always will and I'll always be around, I'll be with them.
Tell them that, please, Uncle Jake. Tell them that if I don't come home.
Love,
John