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For fun, I wrote this from a female P.O.V. This is a romance, a story about feelings. Part of it isn't pretty. There's no real villain in this piece -- just the times in which these kids lived.

*****

It was the summer of '69. It was the summer of despair.

"The heat waves shimmered in the distance, rising off the sand in an unmerciful display of mother nature's authority. We lay where we had been for hours, in the only good cover around. Off to the left, we heard enemy snipers, the gunfire signaling the start of another day in Hell."

That was part of a letter Joey wrote after his unit fought its way back to base camp. He wrote as often as he could. Sometimes, I'd find a stack of his letters in the mailbox when I got home from work, and then, I wouldn't hear from him for while. Whenever his family got any news, they would call me or visit to share the letter. I did the same for them. I always let my folks and Joey's read what we wrote, including the parts where Joey and I talked about getting married when he got home.

*****

...

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