June 13, 1941
My Dearest Susan,

Today was my first day of boot camp. All of those stories that our fathers told of boot camp in their time has not prepared me enough. I was patronized by my superiors before the day even began. We were all woken up with a cold splash of water, then forced to sprint in our wet undergarments through the mud. The food is incredibly acerbic and ominous, and the people even worse. Colonel is easily vexed, and I am afraid that I am not his favorite soldier.

This morning I did not make my cot fast enough. As punishment, he screamed at me for being effusive and insipid. Once he was done yelling, the mood of the room turned somber. It was obvious that this was no time to be mirthful.

I must leave, for free time is running out, and it is getting late. If I get caught staying up late, my punishment could be worse than even earlier. I cannot help but feel nostalgia for you already.
Love,
Nicholas
P.S. I love you.








November 30, 1941
Dear Suzi,

I have now been in boot camp for almost six months. The other soldiers are talking of the US joining the war. There are whispers of the Japanese planning an attack on one of our bases. Boot camp is so much fun! I hate it here, and wish that I could be with you again. I have made a couple of friends. Their names are Jonathan and Marcus. Marcus is African American, but the whitest of the three of us. Jonathan is the son of a lawyer, who knew nothing of the physical work I was used to. Being a farmer's son has definitely helped me be a stronger soldier. Marcus was going to school to become a dentist.

I think that you would like Jonathan and Marcus, and I pray that you will be able to meet them after our tour is done. Jonathan jumped with joy after hearing from his girl back home in Georgia. Marcus is married to a girl named Martha. They have a child on the way, due in January. Marcus is hoping that Colonel will let him go home for the baby's birth. However, Colonel is like a steel rod when it comes to the rules, so he does not have much hope.

Time is our enemy, slipping away like sand in an hourglass. I hope that you are feeling well. Tell your ma that I say hey.
Love,
Nicholas
P.S. I love you





January 25, 1942
Dear Susan,

I apologize waiting to write for so long, but as you may have heard, quite a lot has happened.

On December 7, we received news that one of our bases in Hawaii has been attacked. Once Colonel received the orders, he ushered us out onto the awaiting airplane to travel to Germany. The trip took an eternity, but we finally arrived. Once we arrived, we were assigned a new Colonel. I do not like this new Colonel; his beard is far too well groomed. However, this new Colonel is - how should I put this - nicer than the last. The first Colonel was a hard man who was extremely strict in everything he did, whereas the new Colonel is more relaxed. The first Colonel focused more on knowledge, whereas this Colonel is more focused on application and life lessons. The other day, he taught us how to find food.

We woke up one day to a mountain of food on the table. We were in awe, for we had not seen so much food in one place in months. Colonel explained to us that he will not always be there to find food for us, and that the uniforms may not always be on time when delivering food, so we must learn to live on our own; it’s either that, or die. I was unsure as to whether or not to trust him, for at first, he seemed a bit crazy, but after the other men started to follow his instructions, I soon followed.

Colonel is the best thing that has happened since we started fighting. He is as brilliant as the sun and a father to us all. Well, I have patrol first thing tomorrow at o’500 hours.
Love,
Nicholas
P.S. I love you
March 13, 1942
Dear Susie,

I killed my first man yesterday. The weather is great. To be honest, I do not think I will be able to tell you about what it is like to kill another human for quite some time, for I am still quite shaken up over it.

As I said earlier, the weather is great, for it being Europe in March. There is a civil war breaking out among our company. Not only am I fighting a physical war, I am fighting an emotional war with the upper ranks. The lower ranks are feeling unacknowledged, and the upper ranks are not feeling respected. Sooner or later, this silly game will end. We go to the front line tomorrow, where many of my colleagues will die, including myself.

I pray that I live to see your beautiful face. I yearn for you as you wait for me. I have a foreboding feeling in my gut telling me that this will be the last time that I write to you. I love you so much.
Love,
Nicholas
P.S. I love you

March 15, 1942
Dear Ms. Doe

The United States is sorry to inform you that Nicholas Smith passed away yesterday evening while battling the enemy. However, we are proud to inform you that he did not die in vain. His last actions saved the entire platoon. With this last action, he received a Medal of
Valor and a Purple Heart, and will receive a proper ceremonial burial.

While packing his things up, these letters flew from under the mattress, all addressed to you. As a final thank you to Private Smith, we send these letters along with his other possessions. His funeral will be paid by the Army, and he will have a Twenty-one Gun Salute on March 20, 1942.

Again, we are sorry for your loss. Private Nicholas Smith was an honorable man who earned this medal and saved many, many lives at the cost of his own.
Sincerely,
The United States Government