Excerpts from Letters to Mom in italics.
13 May 1967
[AG2 Fehr sent his mother money to relay to CiCi and attempts to explain why he cannot send it directly.] The only reason I can't send the money (any money) other than U.S. dollar instruments is for control of inflation [in Vietnam]. If I were to make money on the black market or piaster exchanges etc, how could I get the money out of country? [Troops in Vietnam where paid in MPC or military payment certificates in lieu of U.S. currency.] The restrictions were levied for that purpose. There is nothing to stop you from mailing an international check or money order from the states. I would not ask you to do anything illegal.
As for saving money, I'm putting some in a special plan for Vietnam GI's whereby you get 10% interest. CiCi had borrowed some money so her family could eat. They had a bad fishing season. I wanted to send her the $100 to help repay it.
Today I showed the C.O. a letter asking the US Embassy in Taipei to send me forms for marrying a foreign national. He should have taken my badge. I caught him unawares and he didn't know what to do. Very soon, I should lose my clearance. I could expect orders to a ship. I don't know what's going to happen next.
I could rest at ease, but I doubt whether the papers can be processed in time for me to marry CiCi before I'm discharged. The forms must be filled out in both English and Chinese; there are physicals, interviews etc, and it takes over three months in Taipei alone. I get discharged in September. Time is short.
I don't know whether I'll be able to marry her before I'm out or not. I hope so; I don't know where I'll get the money. If I have to go back as a civilian, I'll have to get a job somewhere. When I finally get married and bring her to the states, my problems are just beginning. I'll need a home and a job. I'm still not through with college.
This would seem horrible to someone who hasn't seen poverty or been mortared or in combat. Vietnam changes your outlook on things. The more basic simple wants are paramount. Perhaps, it puts life in perspective.
20 May 1967 Phu Bai Manor
I wrote a letter of condolence yesterday. [Uncle] Dick was one person you don't think would go quietly. He always enjoyed himself so much. [Steve shed heartfelt tears sitting at a rear table at the club straining to compose that letter extolling how much life his uncle had packed into the few short years allotted.] Well, we all must pay taxes and die. [Perhaps, he was becoming inured to death in Phu Bai with the daily official body counts and the stacks of green body bags visible across the road at the morgue. Even flying out of Phu Bai on R & R or on TAD, the morbid green bags on their final journey were lain perpendicular to his feet in what passed as an aisle on the aircraft's deck. And the draft kept feeding the big meat grinder; kids were even being drafted into the Marines.]
Still no word on a waiver for my clearance [to allow AG2 Fehr to continue to work in the ops building]. The Navy is just screwing themselves. No reason; just policy! Something should come in by today. They may make me a real sailor yet. Only got less than four months and I could do that standing on my head.
We had a floorshow [minus the floor] this week. Three Australian and two cute little Filipina GO-GO girls. Made me wish I had some time to do in the P.I. Maybe they'll send me there if the clearance isn't waived.
27 May 1967
Thanks you very much for taking care of the IMO [International Money Order]. That makes me feel much better.
It seems they didn't have a body to replace me, so I'm working again. [AG2 Fehr had lost access to the Ops building for a few days and volunteered to honcho sandbag-filling details rather than just sit around the NCO club.]
Somebody said it was 117 degrees at the airport the other day. I don't doubt it. I know it's been over 100 degrees for weeks. When the winds blow, it conjures up visions of the dustbowl mentioned in Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath.
I wish this war would end, or that we got out. Too bad people can't live a peaceful life; it's so short anyway.
Would you believe my buddy Pete [probably Ted Peterson, but possibly Pete Wyatt] got a parking ticket? He was over at Division and parked the truck in a place reserved for jeeps. The major is gonna restrict him to post for two weeks. That's a joke, we're restricted to this compound the whole tour. This place is like a jail. The time goes so damn slow too. I wish I would have stayed in Taiwan. I hate being cooped up.
The phone rang at the bar (in the club) and some guy jokingly yelled, "If it's my wife, I'm not here!" Guess that's as good a tone as I can muster to sign off.