“Please don’t ever think your letters aren’t very important to me. Besides you being in my heart, that is the next closest thing I have to being with you.”
Jim was a 21-year-old airman when he flew to Vietnam in July 1968, bound for Phu Cat Air Base. His wife, Donna, 20 and pregnant, waited in the Ozarks of Arkansas. Between them: an ocean, a war, and the heartbeat of letters that breathed life into the long days between them.
For more than fifty years those letters sat sealed in an old Air Force bag in an attic, untouched until they were opened again. They echo the letters that helped so many young couples stay stitched together when the war tried to pull them apart.
