Letter to Henriette 1; Spring 1936 ('Part 6')

	The reply letter arrives tucked in Henriette's make-up schoolwork, in a homemade envelop that seems to have been cut from a piece of brown paper bag. The notes itself is on plain lined paper, the left-hand edge ragged from where it was torn from a classroom composition book. The first line is written in meticulously smooth, evenly spaced cursive script, but a quarter of the way into the second this is replaced by an erratic freehand print that careens between the lines like an out-of-control rally car.

    Dear --Madamwa-- Ms. Henriette,

    I was very overjoyed to receive your letter in the post and hear that you had not been transferred away from Ternwald, and that all is well. I was kind of worried you maybe got in trouble for telling me about being in the military and all that. I promise I didn't tell anyone, even though they asked how our date went. I figured you weren't supposed to, and might be in trouble if I said something, but you don't have to worry. Your secret is safe with me.

    It sounds like its tough being in the military. Do they make you do push-ups and yell at you and stuff the way you see in the pictures? I think I'd be okay doing push-ups or running, but I hate getting hollered at. You must be pretty tough to put up with all that. I always thought it'd be cool to be able to fly around and stop the bombers, but I guess that must be stressful for you, too. Being normal can be nice too, I guess.

    I'm really glad you liked sailing. I've only gotten to go a little bit since we were out there, but it'd be great if you could get away and come out again some time. Do you think your superior would let you? He sounds like a real hardcase, but maybe you could say its theraputic. It can't be good for you to be so bored over there, but its cool you can read sailing books and stuff. I read a book once about old whaling ships that was really good. It wasn't for school or anything, I just thought it was interesting.

    Anyway, I hope your wrist feels better so you can write me back. It's kind of funny sending letters when we live so close, but I guess me visiting you isn't allowed.

    Yours,
    Dirk Sands