An "If your reading this I didn't make it" letter
January 28th, 1968
Dear Mom,
Mom I love you. Remember that. I need you to remember that. I’m sorry, but if you are reading this it means that I’m gone. I fought my hardest and tried my best, but this is the hardest thing I have ever done and at least I can tell you that I know that I went down fighting. Right now I'm stationed in Saigon, and the Vietnamese day of Tet, or the new year for the locals, is in two days. Because it's a holiday, Sargent Williams told us we can expect easy days ahead of simple scouting and patrolling the outskirts of the city, at least until Tet ends. After that we’re expected to start moving further north, where there will be much more danger. The reason I'm telling you all of this is because I don't know how to say goodbye, and I still want to be able to give you something to remember me by. This is also the only time I'll have to write in a dry place in the next month or so, and you have to take any chance you can get here. This is my fourth one of these. Anyhow, I told Bill, another private first class and my best friend here, to get this too you if I didn't make it, so make sure to send him a letter thanking him. I Love you mom. I want you to think about all the happy times we had together, the trip to the Cape back in 62 when we had that great barbecue for the fourth of july and we just sat there together and watched the sunset? All of the great times we have had together. I miss you Mom. Hopefully you never read this. Bye Mom.
With Love,
Johnathan