[Matt Wiser]

Guru sends a letter home. You do get a hint of how things are going on the home front.


A Letter Home


November 1, 1987

Dear Mom,


I'm fine, and hope you are the same. I wanted to tell you right off, but seeing the name on the envelope told you: I'm a Major now. Didn't get it the way I wanted it, though....I'm filling a dead man's shoes. I got the squadron when Colonel Rivers got shot down, and he didn't get out of the plane. And somebody must've thought that I deserved the rank (well, some of it, anyway) that goes with the job. But the hardest thing was writing the letter to his wife. Something they don't teach you at Officer School, let alone ROTC or the Academy. And I've had people tell me that. Took me four tries to finally get something that sounded right, and I hope it went okay. They say this is the hardest thing in the service to do, and believe me, it is. Hopefully, I won't have to do it often, but given how this war has gone, I know I will. Doesn't make it easier, though.

Can you believe it? Me, a Major? Still getting used to it. Only been a Captain little over a year, and now this. It's taking a little getting used to, and half of the sergeants here are old enough to be my father, it seems. But they nod, say “Yes, sir,” salute, and get on with the job. And I'm not that much older than the people I fly with. And I'm still “one of the guys” after hours.

How are things back home? You told me in your last letter that Victory Gardens won't be going out of style anytime soon, and that both Granny and Grandpa were busy with one for the whole ranch. Working there will do him good, and glad to hear that he listened to Doc Coverdale and had that cough looked at. Be glad they were able to operate, and get that tumor in his lung before it really had a chance to spread. He's lucky, given that cancer meds are rationed, my flight surgeon tells me. My flight surgeon? Still getting used to that.

How's Deb? Since she works for PG&E, at least that's an essential occupation, and she couldn't be drafted. Though they'd probably make her an officer and send her into the Engineers. They need people to get the lights back on all over, and she'd probably be in charge of some unit doing that. Anyone with a Civil Engineering background or who worked for a utility company isn't going anywhere near the front lines, I can tell you that.

They still have that posse? Saw on the news that PG&E and Southern Cal Edison hired people who are 4-F to patrol the power lines. Guys with pickup trucks, ATVs, and guns. Hope they don't run into Spetsnatz-who you've heard about on the news. Those guys are bad news, period. At least you don't have to worry about air raids there.

Where are we? Can't say other than “Somewhere in Texas”. They do censor your letters here, so I'd better not say. Still don't know about our relatives near Dallas, but if you watch the news, it's a mess. Hopefully, they're okay, and we haven't heard from them yet, or they're on the bad-guy side of the line and still far enough from the battlefield to worry. As soon as I hear, I'll let you know.

One thing about Texas: they're determined to get things back to normal. One town near here, which one I can't say, got their high school up and going, and this being Texas, guess what they did? They started up their football team. Same thing going on all over this part of Texas. Normal? After two years under Ivan's boot, it'll be a long time before things are normal here. The Army and Federal Marshals run things pretty much here. But you have to start somewhere.

Lisa and I are still flying together, and well, together, period. Don't know if we'll make things more permanent once this war's over, but she's glad to have me and vice versa. I gave her a shoulder to cry on when she found out her older brother got killed on that Kola Raid. I told her that if she wanted a place to cry, scream, yell, whatever, she could use my old office, and if she wanted a sympathetic ear, she had a pair. A half hour later, she wanted to talk. Lisa got it off her chest (pardon the pun), and we went out to fly. She wrote some graffiti on the bombs, then we went out and made some Russians burn, bleed, and blow up. Her sister's doing okay: she's on a destroyer, one of those they got from the old mothball fleet, and is okay so far. Lisa's younger brother? He graduates high school in June, then you know what happens next.

Well, this letter should reach you by Thanksgiving, if all goes well. Got a lot to be thankful for this year, and hopefully, this time next year, it'll all be over. Hopefully.

Hate to end this now, but it's almost time to fly. I'll write as soon as I can, and with this job, I'm pretty busy. Tell everyone I said hi, and if you can, ask Granny for some more chocolate chip cookies. Got some people here with a sweet tooth, and when I put some out on my desk, I leave to fly or whatever, and when I come back, they're gone! Maybe she and some of the old ladies at the Senior Center can get together and bake cookies for a whole squadron? I know that's some stuff that's rationed, namely, eggs, sugar, and flour, but it's for a good cause.

Love you and take care.

Your son,

Matt