Dearest Bastian

Dearest Bastian,

War isn't the same without you. I know that's a crazy thing to say, especially with how this whole mess started, but the front line used to feel like home. The first time around, at least. You were there. We were winning. I knew my job. Everything seemed clear cut and oddly right. Hell, some nights back in Berlin almost were TOO quiet, especially when you were gone. Now quiet seems a thing very distinctly of the past, but there is no feeling of home here either. It's just a job. A bloody, horrible, seemingly useless job. I know that's not true. I know the men we manage to patch back together could very well go on to do some good in this war, but I hate sewing them up and bandaging them over just long enough to send them back into the war. I almost feel happy for the ones who lose a leg or a hand, they get to go home. Is that sick of me?

God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be morbid. You don't need to be reading that. It was a bloody battle today. First retreat I can ever remember seeing, actually. Erwin, the medic, he lost a hand. He's one of the lucky ones, I suspect. He'll be going home soon. If you can call that lucky. I hope you haven't been lucky like that. I hope you just keep walking that tightrope between danger and safety. I guess you could call that survival. I don't even know where you are right now. You and that damned parachute. Where did they drop you? Are you still waiting to go up? When will you get this, if ever? When will I see you again? Hell, I hate this. I should have asked to be stationed with you boys. Not that they would have said yes, but I should have tried. Maybe I can put in for a transfer.

Write me back, please, as soon as you get this. Send me a kiss. Send me a picture? Maybe a shirt. I put a kerchief in this little package. I'd been wearing it all week. I don't know if it will help, but it's something. Please, send me a shirt. I miss your shirts. I miss you. Anyway, I should stop writing. I'm going to smear all this lovely ink, and the Doktor or Sofia will be back soon and wonder what I'm not doing on the floor. I love you. Be safe. Dream of me. We'll be in Berlin together soon.

Your loving, lonely wife,

Elsa

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