Nigel has a feature on his site called "Dead Letter Office." A dead letter office is a storage area for undeliverable mail. I assume it's for undeliverable mail that can't be returned to sender, since all *my* undeliverable mail comes straight back to me.
     I've had a really large helping of wine, and cried my ass off watching "The War At Home" with Emilio Estevez. And it's kinda put me in a mood. A perfect mood for reading Dead Letter Office, and for writing.

26 Feb 1991

Dear Tracy,

     Hey, how are you? I know it's weird me writing to you, I usually talk to you when I call, and just write mom and my dad, but there is something I need to tell somebody, and I can't tell mom or my dad because they'll get all worried. They don't need that. You know I'll be ok, though, so it's ok to tell you.
     Last night I thought I was gonna die. That's nothing new, every time we have a scud alert, we know we all might die, but last night after I went to sleep upstairs, in the canvas cot, not wearing anything at all (guess I like to live dangerously), with that Paul Simon tape going in the mini boom box, I heard this big boom and said, "Oh shit!" And I rolled off the cot and got my pro mask on, butt naked in the room. And I got into my MOPP suit, all the charcoal inside rubbing all gritty against my bare skin. I looked out the window, and there's glowing down there by Souk's supermarket.
     I don't know if you know, but it's Ramadan. People are taking it easy during the day, because they are fasting, but at night they are eating and shopping. This whole place is kinda nocturnal during Ramadan. Well, except for the neighbor who keeps asking me to come over and taste her cooking and see if it's good. She can't taste it during the day while she's cooking because of the fast. I keep telling her I don't know what it's supposed to taste like, but she just keeps shoving the spoon at me, so I tell her it's good and she seems happy with that.
     Anyway, people do their shopping at night. And Souk's isn't just a supermarket. It's a strip mall with all kinds of shops and things, and the grocery store itself even has a lingerie section. It's big, and after sunset, it's packed.
     I just knew that scud came down right at Souk's. And I just knew that scud was full of anthrax, and the night breeze would have it here in minutes.
     I went downstairs and waited for the all clear, and it came. Turns out that scud didn't have any NBC, and it didn't come down on Souk's. It came down right behind it. 475th Quartermaster, a reserve unit, was quartered in a warehouse right behind the store. That scud came in there and busted up into pieces and just made meat out of those people. And they just got here. I mean they JUST got here. They just got their flak vests yesterday, fat lot of good it did them.
     And you know what I thought? Thank god. Thank god it was soldiers and not civilians who bought it. Can you believe it? These people are reservists. For all intents and purposes, they ARE civilians, but I said thank god. Because these people took an oath, and they knew they might be killed, like that makes it alright or something.
     Some of us, most of us, wish we could go up north, go fight, instead of sitting here letting that bastard just toss these missiles at us, and we can't do anything about it.
     So, anyway, I don't know how long this thing will last, but I'm still here. Take care, and I love and miss you.

Love,
Jenn