The next day, Phil received a stack of letters from home. He quickly flipped through them until he came to a lightly scented one with Marilyn’s hand-writing. In his mind’s eye, he could see her smile, feel her hand, smell her perfume, and taste her sweet lips. Sure, there had been some tension in some of their recent letters, but he still couldn’t wait to be with his girl again. Then he ripped the letter open and immediately wished he hadn’t:[1]

Dear Phil,

There’s no other way to say this but to tell you that I’ve fallen for another guy.

He’s a sweet boy.

We met when he was here in Gulfport for a week to visit. He’s returned several times.

He visited my mother in Des Moines, and she likes him.

And now he’s asked me to marry him. I’ve agreed.

We haven’t set a date yet, but I want you to know that you were my first love, and I’ll always remember our wonderful times together.

I pray that the tradition of the Friendship Oak will not be broken and that we can remain friends.

And I know that there’s just the right gal for you, Phil. She’ll be one lucky lady.

Marilyn

Phil felt his shoulders slump. He was stunned and caught completely off guard. Even though numerous men in his unit had received the dreaded “Dear John” letters notifying them that there wouldn’t be a girl waiting for them back home, Phil was sure Marilyn would be there for him.

He had never loved anyone like her. At that moment, life sucked.

In his next letter to his mother, Phil vented his pent-up feelings:

I still can’t believe the news about Marilyn. But I’m notthe only guy in this war who’s been stiffed.

He just never imagined he would be one of them.

The letter from Marilyn had arrived just as Phil’s regiment was given a brief respite from the war. Boy, did he ever need it![2]

~~~~~

[1] Larimore, At First Light, 152.

[2] Ibid, 153.

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