To Cynthia, With Love

28 November 1963

PFC Robert E. Reese

Military Assistance Command

APO AP 82460

United States Army

151 Lawrence Avenue

Marion, OH 44820

My dearest Cynthia,

Today I turned 19, but there were no friends or family to celebrate it with. I wish I were back home with you, watching the Beverly Hillbillies and the Andy Griffith Show and listening to Gomer Pyle say “Well, golllllyyy.” I can almost hear you laugh when I did my poor imitation of him. You would have made a giant bowl of popcorn (since we grew up in the Popcorn Capital of the World). When I got my conscription card, I knew things were going to be hard on both of us. Your letters and packages always inspire me and keep me going.

I can’t believe Kennedy was assassinated last week. I don’t know how much is on the news channel back home anymore. The country must be devastated; are people protesting? is Johnson acting like a good president? I thought he was against this war, but things can change, I hope. And earlier this month, another assassination took place here. The South Vietnamese President Diem and his brother were executed in a coup, and that left the leaders scrambling to get things under control. There was some chaos there, and for the first time I was worried about not coming home. So far, we’ve lost about 200 soldiers, including Hadley Springfield from school. It’s a crying shame.

What I wanted to tell you is that I am part of the new Military Assistance Command. I’m helping with the resettlement of hamlets for South Vietnamese civilians where they can live safely. Most come from the Mekong Delta, but there are lot of people from tiny villages all over the country. We build houses, schools, hospitals, and even get electricity wired in! There are ARVN guards all around the fences, and the people here have been given guns and trained on how to use them.

When shipments come in, I’m part of the small group that delivers them to one of the settlements. Cynthia – you should see the smiles on the kids’ faces – it’s like the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen. I know you want to teach kindergarten, and I can see why now. There are two brothers, Duc and Hai, who wait for me each week. They didn’t know what to make of the Play-Doh; I had to show them how to use it. They squished it through their fingers several times, laughing. They absolutely loved the Matchbox cars that arrived, and the Slinky made them giggle with the springy noise it makes. Duyen is a 10-year-old girl, and when we gave her a Barbie, she cried. Another little girl, Thuong, loved her Mr. Potato Head. I felt like Santa.

I wish you could see the expressions on their faces when our Jeep comes in. Sometimes I have candy or extra fruit hidden in my pack, and all the little kids look up at me, their hands outstretched, and smiles beaming. Maybe one day we can come back to visit. I’d love to show you the countryside. Some of the places remind me of home.

Remember the day we played hooky from Harding High? We ran over to Grave Creek and threw pebbles across the water just to hear them splash. Then we went to Garfield Park to watch the squirrels play and chase each other. If I recall, it was chilly, and I gave you my jacket. The world was more peaceful then when we didn’t know about the tragedies happening over here. That day seemed to go on forever as we held hands. I knew then that you were the one I wanted to marry.

St. Mary’s Cemetery – remember that day? After the school dance, we walked among the headstones, making up stories about each of them. We didn’t care; we were in love, and just being close to you made the world perfect. Our favorite song, “Save the Last Dance for Me” was played at our last school dance. You were wearing that pretty polka-dotted pink dress with that ribbon in your hair, and I had on a suit that I borrowed from my dad. You were the most beautiful girl in the room. I can still smell the lilac perfume you had on that night. Isn’t it funny how a scent can still linger in my mind?

Did you get a chance to look at St. Mary’s for our wedding? I really hope it’s nice and full of the stained glass you love. The Catholics over here are not acting very Christian at all; they abuse the Buddhists who happen to be some of the most peaceful people in the world. They’ve been shooting at the monks in the gold sarongs who shop at the market. I’m sure you read about that one monk in Saigon who set himself on fire last summer to protest the war. It was just an awful situation. It’s like the Catholics need to follow the Bible a little more often instead of just reciting their rosaries.

Whenever I get a little time away, I take the back roads south of Saigon down to the South China Sea. It is so beautiful; the deep blue reminds me of your sparkling eyes, and the water is so peaceful and calm. Over here, sometimes we win the battles, and sometimes the sneaky VC win. But General Harkins says it’s looking a lot better now, and we should be home by Christmas. This year, darling! Less than a month from today, I’ll be in your living room around the fireplace, looking at the shiny ornaments with you and your little sister, watching the snow fall outside. You’ll put the phonograph on, and we’ll dance to our song:

“Baby, don't you know I love you so?

Can't you feel it when we touch?

I will never, never let you go

I love you, oh, so much.”

Just having you in my arms again will make the memories of these cold rainy days disappear. I miss you so terribly much. I can’t wait to come home to you!

With all my love, Bobby

Eulogy, 8 March 1966, given by Cynthia Johnson:

As you all know, Robert E. Reese, my fiancé, was killed in action serving our country. On 1965 November 27, PAVN forces attacked the 7th Regiment, 5th Division. Most died that day, including my dear Robert, who was simply assisting one of the US advisers there.

He would have turned 21 the next day.

He and I exchanged letters frequently during the two years he served. I’d like to read to you the letter I wrote after Mrs. Reese gave me the terrible news:

“My Dearest Robert,

Words cannot describe how I’m feeling right now. The telegraph cable said you were a ‘casualty.’ I knew something was wrong when I hadn’t received a letter from you in two months. You know how I cry so easily, but this has made me so numb I cannot cry. Even wearing your jacket hasn't felt the same. You were supposed to come home Christmas of 1963. I was so excited, I invited everyone to be there to welcome you home. Your family, my family, all our friends. Even Charlie, your beagle, was there.

But you didn’t come home. Instead, your flag-draped coffin finally came back last month, and your family made the arrangements. I helped them the best I could; I helped your mother put the gold star up in the front window. My love for you was so fierce, I felt tendrils of pain snaking around my entire body, aching for you, my sweetheart, my love. I can’t comprehend that I’ll never hear your laugh again, never skip pebbles along the creek with your, never marry you and have the family we dreamed of.

I will always be a part of your family. Your mother and father are beside themselves with grief, but your dad knows of the courage you possessed and the strength you needed to fight in a war that is becoming more meaningless. He felt the same way when he was a POW at the end of the second world war. He’s so proud of you.

You, my darling, were my everything. I lived for you, I cried for you, and now I grieve over you. While the pain right now is stinging and raw, I know that the people who loved you also grieve. Together we’ll recover and make sure your legacy is remembered. You have nieces and nephews who remember you, and they’ll tell their kids. I don’t how I can go on without you. You were my one and only, and lilacs I laid on your casket are a reminder of the last time we were truly together. I saved the last dance for you.”

“I will never, never let you go

I love you, oh, so much.”