No, that isn't right. Let me start again.
Dearest Husband. Bearer of my violet kisses?
My conjugal cock? It's all beginning to feel
unreal since you left. The paperwork has become
nightmare. Your young nation seems to have
neglected to make provisions for military spouses
of the prick-carrying variety and no amount of either
swearing or condescension has sped the great
I'm relieved every morning to find the picture
Sully took after our wedding. If it wasn't for the
proof that it happened, I'd begin to believe the entire
week a fantasy brought on by too much scotch and
too little crotch. I wish there were more of you in
it. I should have requisitioned your service snaps so
I could see your honeyed lips more easily when I
offend the flesh at night.
I miss you. You and your US rationed chocolate.
I miss your hard hands and gentle sighs.
But mostly I miss resting my eyes upon you.
I've already told you they pulled me to file
work while I wait for my papers, yes? It's
mind-numbing, Clark. Beloved.
In defense of what little mental acuity I
retained after you'd finished with me, I've
been recalling your stories of your farm. I've been
completely stuck to imagine a farm lacking stone
fences. Are you quite sure you don't live in the
wild west? Or rather, have your mentioned me
to your family? To this Littleton you incessantly
reference? They must have welcomed you back
with open arms and eligible daughters once they
learned of your medals and commendations.
Do you think they'll be very welcoming? I wouldn't
be half so unsure if they wore diamonds and
slurred their less noble neighbors, I am considered
quite a catch in the wilds of London, you know.
I believe I have started to hate the
little picture you left me. The date says it is the day
we were married, but I know it was also the
day you left. I never expected to have
a twelve hour honeymoon.
Damn this war.
Write soon so I have something to read
in the idle hours of the night when I can't sleep
and think of you. And, if you please, send a photograph
of my new home. Preferably with unclothed husband
anticipating my arrival. Any heroic action you might
undertake to bring me home faster wouldn't go amiss,
either. If things continue on this route, I'll be
forced to acquire some dresses and smuggle myself
to you. Stay well.