Daniel Pullman, one of the ‘stars’ of Enza, makes a reappearance in today’s mail.
I just received your letter. While I’ve delivered many letters with post marks from France, I’ve never had one of my own so I’m a little in awe of it. It’s hard to imagine that I’m holding in my hands an envelope that has traveled clear across an ocean to get to me.
How exciting it must be to be in a country so far away from home, though I do understand that you’re homesick already. Perhaps you can draw some comfort from the fact that your family and friends miss you as much as you miss them. I know I miss you. It seems that everyone left behind is older and married, so it’s not the same as having someone your own age to pal around with and talk to.
I try to imagine what it will be like when I get there, and wonder whether I’ll be as homesick as you are. It’s hard, and even a little sad to know that I’ll have no one here to write to. No one who really cares whether I live or die.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go all maudlin on you. I thought I was doing fine until Christmas. Having no one to share it with drove home the fact that Mother is really gone. And with you and the other guys over there, I realized how truly alone I am.
But I expect you know how I feel as you were on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean when Christmas morning arrived. It couldn’t have been a very festive occasion for you either.
I wish there were some news to tell you about but you know what it’s like in Charlotte. The last exciting thing that happened was when Billy Parker set off the firecrackers under Herman Croswell’s buggy, and that was last summer when you were still home.
Take care of yourself, Arthur. Keep your head low in the trenches and keep your gas mask handy.