8

Oct. 3rd: 0500 hours

Dear Dad,

Normally, I'm not stirring this time of day. However, Charles managed to wake me as he came into the Swamp, rummaged through his footlocker and left again. He just finished his six hour post-op shift. Now, I suspect he's off to visit our new nurse.

That was our one bright spot yesterday. An Australian troop truck entered the camp. Riding in the back of the vehicle, with the soldiers, was a young woman. The very first thing I noticed was her hair. Such an unusual color! It reminded me of a new penny with its mixture of reds and golds.

And her eyes! Her eyes are an attractive shade of green. And they have an effervescence in them that makes them sparkle. I found myself drawn to those eyes. I could very easily drown in those eyes.

From her uniform and insignia, it was obvious that she was an American nurse. She had grease smeared across her forehead and lacerations on her face, neck and arm. She was covered with blood---both from her own injuries and from the injured men. She was tired, frightened and worried. Despite all that, I found her to be very attractive.

As we were unloading the wounded, she asked for Charles Winchester's help in climbing down. Since she had injured her ankle, he had to help her walk to the hospital. I wanted that job, myself. However, we had wounded to tend to so....

While in pre-op, I could see the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks beneath the grime. I never thought freckles were all that appealing until I saw them on Sarabeth.

That's her name: Sarabeth MacAllister. She proudly hails from a small rural town in Texas called Big Oak. I wish you could hear her speak. She takes a one syllable word and stretches it into a four or five syllable word. Her voice is pleasing to the ear. My ears, especially.

Sarabeth is a nurse of the finest kind, too. She arrived with three severely injured men. Not only did she prepare them for surgery, while working from the back of a fast moving truck, but she was in enemy territory, at the time, as well.

She is a remarkable woman. I look forward to getting to know her better. Having her around for one day has already made this place more bearable.

Unfortunately, here in this insane asylum called Korea, the injured men, women and children still keep coming...and coming. At all times of the day and night, they are brought in: by helicopter, by ambulance, by truck, by jeep, even by ox cart. And they never stop coming.

I hate this place!

Keep writing to me every chance you get, Dad. Your letters about the happenings around Crabapple Cove help more than you know.

Your son,

Hawkeye