"Wanna read together?" Ada proposed.

"I always need a nap after we read together," demurred Homer.

"But you'll dream of me, won't you?"

Homer had no answer to that.

They went to an easy chair in their room. Ada grabbed the envelope on the table. Homer got behind Ada as she sat down.

"Open the envelope," commanded Ada. Homer tore away at the flap and it gave way. He ran his finger through the white residues of the torn flap, and made way for the letter. Ada reached in her hand, pulled out the letter, and unfolded it. It was written on both sides of three letter-sized sheets of paper.

"Dear Homer,

"I hope you're doing fine. The fighting is hell, as always, but at last I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. We got relieved for Christmas - I pity the new schmucks that are going to have to take our sector through the holiday season. Many others would want them to go through the same shit we're going through but nobody should have to live in fear of every breath and every sensation being his last.

"We're resting up at headquarters in Long Binh Post. Long Binh is basically the REMF capital of Vietnam. (REMF stands for Rear Echelon Mother's Friends.) It's like a city for all the support staff in Vietnam. It's got libraries, movie theaters, pools, and massive stores. They make the biggest Kmart or Safeway look like a country general store. You can buy practically anything you think of in those Post Exchanges. They say it's the size of Cleveland, and it even has its own scheduled bus service!

"Naturally, those of us that have to fight don't like them. The 'support' staff rarely if ever supports us -- most of the REMFs are engaged in supporting each other! It's like a perpetual motion machine fed with federal tax money and combat soldier blood. Most everyone here is pissed. And to imagine our tour of duty is less than half over!

"I just want it to be over already. I just want myself and my platoon to make it through. I don't give a rat's ass about courage, or anti-communism, or any of that stuff. I can write stuff like this because they must not think Charlie has anybody that can read English. They don't bother to censor letters."

"Turn," ordered Homer.

"Not done," responded Ada.

Homer waited a bit.

"Done," signaled Ada.

"Turn," responded Homer.

"You call this stimulating? This is like LA on a Friday evening! I want you to be like a drunk truck driver barreling down Tehachapi Pass! Faster!"

Homer complied.

"They talk about ending the war but they're still escalating it. There's rumors we might get deployed to Cambodia. Let's hope I don't get killed by one of our own bombs there.

"This is what I'm looking forward to: R&R. Rest and recreation. A week off somewhere else, away from all the fighting. Lots of places to choose from. The most popular spots are Queensland and Hawaii, but you need to have ten months in country to even get onto the list. There are also other spots in Southeast Asia, but I'm not interested in them. Too hot.

"I haven't told many people what you do. The ones I have told generally roll their eyes. One guy didn't - an Australian guy who was seconded to our company. We call him 'Limey' because nobody can tell between Australian and British. His name is James Robertson. Would you believe that? He has a brother Tom who's working on a similar computer network down under!"

"He's from Sydney. He says it's a beautiful place ruined by terrible government. Would you believe they're spending a hundred million of their dollars (which is worth a dollar and a dime of ours) on an opera house--"

Ada dropped the letter.

"What's wrong?" asked Homer.

"I know Tom Robertson," she said, "and yeah...I think you do too."

"Who? Where?" Homer searched his mind for the name.

"He was the guy that called us 'Yanks' and hung up when I told him I had a boyfriend."