Dearest Marguerite, I hope that this letter finds you well.

I've missed you greatly during the entire time away from you, but these past few weeks

have been especially difficult.

While we were busy pushing from Normandy, it was easier to keep my mind occupied on other

things.

Now that the Germans have left France, however, I've had a lot more time to myself, and, as

always, my thoughts have turned to you.

I have good news or bad news, depending on how you look at things.

As you're an optimist by nature, a very glass-half-full kind of woman, I'll give

you the positive spin first.

You and I are going to be reunited sooner than we thought.

I'll be shipping off to the good old US of A within the next few weeks.

No matter how optimistic you are, however, you are also a realist, so here's the bad news.

The reason that I'll be coming home to you so early is because I've been injured.

Now there's no need to worry, as I'm going to be fine.

Once the bullets stopped flying in France, my unit had been assigned to deliver cargo to

a Vueliba.

You've always been more of a scholar than I am, so you may be familiar with the town.

I had never heard of it before.

There were only three large crates, so Mark Johnston and I volunteered to make the delivery.

I've written to you about him before.

He's the soldier in my platoon that has a wife and young son in Kansas.

...