Letters from War by Mark Schultz Read Free Book Online Page B

ways.
    On day five here, I was emotionally gone. I don’t know—I thought I’d be stronger but it was just getting to me. Getting to my head. I was really going to break down. But this guy named Carter who’s from Texas took me under his wing and helped me out. I almost think he’s a guardian angel, though I don’t think guardian angels use that kind of language and talk about girls that way.
    Things are better. It’s strange—you go eighteen yearsand then suddenly your whole life changes. Like that. Not in a bad way. I know what they’re doing and why they’re doing it and I keep that in the back of my mind. I also think of Dad, of you guys, of the people back in our neighborhood and in our church.
    I think about all of you when things start getting too heavy.
    I’m not here to follow in Dad’s footsteps. I’m here to serve all of you and to serve this country.
    Day by day I’m beginning to understand that a little more.
    It fills me with pride even when the muscles are aching and the mind is close to breaking.
    That’s all I can say for now. I’m going to be learning soon how to shoot an M16. Hopefully I’ll qualify the first time.
    Look forward to talking to you soon and hearing your voice.
    Love you,
    James
    Beth stops reading the letters and puts them back in order.
    She remembers the words she wrote after one of these early letters. She shared a passage from Romans that was meant to encourage. She could still recite it word for word:
We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope.
    Beth had told James to continue to persevere and hope. That had been early on during his time at Fort Benning.
    I need to do the same. I must do the same. I must remain hopeful.

    â€œThis must be your little sister,” the raspy voice says.
    â€œBehave, Murphy. You don’t want to mess with Emily.”
    Beth shuts the door of the van and walks around the passenger side, noticing Emily’s unamused glance through the open window. When she gets behind the wheel of the familiar vehicle, she can hear the man in the back already probing Emily for information.
    â€œI bring Murphy to Mountain Home every Tuesday,” Beth says.
    She had woken Emily up and urged her to come with her this morning. At first, Emily had asked if this waslike one of those Angel Tree things they’d done together around Christmastime. Beth hadn’t said what they were going to do, but the moment they arrived at the Mountain Home VA Medical Center to switch vehicles, Emily knew.
    â€œWhy do you want me to come?”
    â€œTo keep me company,” Beth had replied.
    But Murphy was company enough.
    Beth wanted Emily to participate in this weekly ritual to understand just a little more. A little more about service, about veterans, about a part of the military that she could never learn from her father.
    As she starts up the car, she can smell the odor filling the van. It’s one of the bitter realities of life. Age has a scent, whether it’s the top of a baby’s head or the deeply etched wrinkles on a man’s hands.
    â€œTell Emily a little about yourself, Murphy,” Beth says.
    â€œI’m dying, how ’bout that?”
    Emily glances over and gives her the
Get me out of here
look.
    â€œMaybe a little something about you. A little something lighter.”
    â€œLighter, huh? I was married once. For a couple of days. But turns out she couldn’t speak English and didn’t quite know what she was getting herself into. Plus, the guy who married us wasn’t exactly legit.”
    â€œMurphy served in the Korean War, didn’t you?”
    â€œEver heard of that one?”
    â€œKorea?” Emily says, not trying to hide her amusement. “Is that a country or a type of illness?”
    The cackle fills the van. “She’s got your sense of humor, huh? Korea