Carter
There are quite a few things I know that you don't know I know.
Like you, Carter. I see how you close your eyes and pray before every meal. I know you try not to be conspicuous, because the other guys would razz the hell out of you. Sometimes they notice, and you do it anyway.
I see how you read most of your letters out loud, and save them all, except for the ones from your crazy Uncle Jerry. You burn those after a quick read, and I have to wonder why.
I see how you sign those letters to your mom. "Andy." "Yours Always, Andy." "Your boy, Andy." I can't imagine anyone here calling you that, but I guess nobody's going to call me Bobby either.
I see how you squirrel away your cigarettes and slip a few into Newkirk's stash when he's running low. And on behalf of every man in Barracks 2, I am profoundly grateful that Newkirk never runs out of cigarettes.
I see how you slip a note onto Kinch's bunk at night when he's still working while we all get to bed. And I see the nod he gives you in the morning, and how he sometimes closes his eyes when you do at meals.
I see that you're not as clueless as you'd like us to think. You have some pretty ingenious ideas for getting under the Krauts' skin, and they are not the product of an innocent mind.
I see how tough you are. You don't seem tough on the surface, but you take more grief than any man in camp, and you do it with dignity. That's mental toughness.
I see how strong you are. You and Kinch are the only ones who hit the gym regularly, doing sit-ups and push-ups and then running three miles a day in laps around the camp. You're disciplined.
When I come in from a mission late at night and I see you in your bunk, I see that purity ring on your hand and I wonder how difficult that must be in this camp. Especially with Newkirk as your neighbor.
