Dear G.B.
I don’t know what I was thinking.
She was a right smart looking gal, and a good dancer too.
But whatever possessed me to propose to her after just a few dates?
She was all giddy and happy making plans, and maybe that took my mind off the war. And maybe it made me feel important, since being stationed in Sacramento is a far cry from the front lines. Here outside the barracks it hardly seems like a war is even going on. I’m always preparing for a mission that just never arrives for me. Maybe that’s why getting married seemed like such a good idea. I figured whether I got deployed or not, I’d always have Polly.
But the more she chattered on about wedding plans, the colder my feet got. We were almost up to the wedding day when I called it off. She was dumbstruck and mighty angry too. She yelled and cried and cursed and pounded me on the chest, but it didn’t do her no good. I told her we’d wait…wait until the war was over, and that settled things for a bit.
But why am I writing this letter to you G.B.? A postcard will much better do the trick.
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