02/05/1945
Dear Archie,
I know I have not written to you in a while, I had to get new envelopes. I hope this letter finds you in good health, and you need not worry about myself, I am safe and on rest now. I am currently in the hospital with minor wounds but I’ll be able to come home and see you once I am all healed; thank you for writing to me, I miss you so much. I have been thinking about you a lot. I know Christmas has just passed and I hope you are well and enjoyed the holiday. I was just informed that we are not allowed to write detailed experiences, due to the postal censorship, but I want to tell you what I have been faced with.
It was on the 24th, and we were stationed in Ardennes when we were called to fight. We fended off the damned Germans in a fierce last attack, and came out victorious! I must say, I was worried because I had heard shouts and explosions around me— but we were able to pull through. Though, it was not without minor cuts and bruises (my doctor said that I may have to amputate my leg but that’s neither here nor there, as is my leg hahaha).
I try to make light of it now, for we cannot change the past, but I fear I will be forever haunted. I make the light I cannot see. I cannot lie to you, dear friend, I believe I am irredeemable. Yes, all is fair in love and war, but taking a life changes you in a great numerous ways. The only way to survive was by always having a gun in hand, even at night when sleep should have protected you. Some nights, I wake up in a cold sweat… the blood, and smell of burning flesh and sound of gunfire and bombings… that last battle. I did come out of it alive and half-well, but others did not. My friends… my brothers in arms fell like flies in the night sky to the blaze of fire. By day I am able to smile and go about life as if I am free from the looming threat of battle, but by night I become terrorized once more. I can never forget the smell of burning flesh. The loud explosions. It pains me to admit that I cannot even celebrate in the nights festivities because of the loud noise. Too much remembrance comes about when the nights’ shadowy fingers grasp my conscious. Our trek back home was not much better. Heavy snow fell— cold and treacherous. My friend who had also been injured—but more gracious than I— had to be carried, and I was the carrier.
Do not fret, my comrades and I who had survived made it back and we are all in recovery. Every day I am grateful that I am still alive. Please send my regards to my family and friends and tell them of the good news of my homecoming! Write back to me soon before I get back (don’t forget, especially with that terrible memory of yours). I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
James Valley