…if words aren’t heard,
It doesn’t mean that they do not exist…

March 6. 1945. somewhere at the western european frontline

Dear sara,

It’s being several weeks since i have written a letter with your address on it. maybe you’ll never know the true me, but in these hard times pen and paper is all that i have when it come to you.
Whatever you plan to do, please, keep one thing in mind and don’t lie to me, don’t analyze me and be honest cause i’ll be honest with you… i will tell you my deepest thoughts, hopes and wishes.
Those three days we spent together have been poetry itself, and those tree nights are inspiration for a life time of any artist.
But even after that, i still can’t help to ask my self, do we really know each other or are you using some kind of mask to hide the true you cause you are still afraid that you really might love someone, and that someone could be me? i hope…
After all, i am the one who truly care for you and understand you, more than you will ever know.
Tomorrow early morning my squad is leaving this post, the superior officers aren’t telling us where precisely we are going, but we know it’s very close to the rhine river and i assume we will move towards a small town called remagen. it’s very cold for this month of the year.
If we gain thru this successfully i will write you again, if not… at least we have tried to make this world a better place to live, even if only for a moment.

Sincerely yours,
Forest s. mcgarden