Anxiety, Hope Arrive With the Mail : Home front: Some letters from the troops comfort; others make the waiting more difficult.

Mom: Well, it’s war, huh! We are listening to the radio. It’s now 0330 HRS, and Iraqi aircraft just crossed the border. Our Stinger missile platoon has just gone on yellow hold. Basically, that means all our missiles are unboxed and ready to fire. I am well within range of aircraft, and ya, I’m a little worried that I might die. . . . Well, no more time. Take care, and remember your son loves you very much. Allison, too. I will get out of here OK, so don’t worry, OK?

Love, Gary

Usually, Barbara Bodenweiser can hardly wait for the mailman to arrive at her Anaheim apartment complex, hoping the day’s delivery will bring a letter from her son, a military policeman stationed near the Kuwait border.

But Gary Bodenweiser’s last letter is a dispatch she would just as soon have the postman take back, especially the message scrawled on a separate sealed envelope folded inside: “To be opened only in the event I am incapacitated or on life support!!!”

“It’s devastating,” Bodenweiser said, holding the sealed blue envelope up to the light of her apartment window. “Do you think I should open it? It scares me. I don’t want to think about him getting killed.”

Instead, the mother carries the envelope across the room and places it inside the frame of a picture of her son in his Army dress greens.

“At least I’ll know where to find it,” she said.

Letters--the first since fighting began three weeks ago--are trickling back to Southern California from sandy foxholes and the bellies of aircraft carriers. On colorful stationery and rumpled notebook paper, loved ones are hearing the emotional reflections of husbands and sons facing their first tests in combat.

In Santa Ana, a father and mother have received word from their son, a medic in the Army’s 82nd Airborne Division. The private talks about downing military-issue pills to ward off the effects of nuclear, biological and chemical warfare.

And a woman in San Clemente has already received her husband’s valentine from the amphibious assault ship Okinawa. The card also contained a letter from the Marine sergeant, urging his wife to remain calm and assuring her that he and “all my kids (his unit) are OK.”

Dear Mildred,

. . . Today is the last mail day for a while. Why, I can’t say, but I have to write everyone and tell them I won’t be writing for a while.

Keep in touch. Write soon.

Gary.

P.S. Please excuse the writing. I am writing by flashlight with red lens and I can’t see much.

In North Orange County and to 81-year-old Mildred Gavins--Barbara Bodenweiser’s friend--Gary, 23, has become somewhat of a celebrity, thanks to the many letters and photographs he’s shipped back.

During the holidays, he had his picture snapped with Brooke Shields, and copies hang on display at the Montgomery Ward store in Fullerton, where his mom used to work, and at the Vons on Lincoln and Lemon streets in Anaheim, where the soldier once boxed cookies and dog food.

Bodenweiser is happy her community has rallied to support the troops, but the thought of her son, now near the front lines, worries her constantly.

“It doesn’t get easier knowing he’s in the line of fire,” she said. “I’m not going to feel better until it’s over. And there’s this letter I can’t open. I don’t know what’s in there. I don’t know, probably his will. Oh, God.”

Dear Dad, Mom, David, Deb,

Well, it’s finally started . . . . That means it won’t be too long until I come home. They cut the phones off last night and we started taking our NBC (nuclear, biological and chemical warfare) pills, so we had a good idea something was about to happen. . . .

You should see the men. They all had grins on their faces this morning because we started bombing. . . . The people at home say wait longer for peaceful resolutions, but they’re saying that in the comfort of their homes with their loved ones there. We’re tired of waiting. We’re ready to do this and come home. . . .

James and Valerie Keeney received the letter just after learning that their son’s unit, the 325th Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Airborne Division, had engaged in its first firefight of the war.

In news accounts of the incident on the Kuwait border, Lt. Col. John Vines, the regiment’s 4th Battalion commander, said troops had to engage the enemy to avoid being ambushed.

“It (accounts of the fighting) brought it even closer to home,” Valerie Keeney said. “I guess it was just a matter of time before they started using those guys.”

Her Santa Ana home, decorated with photographs and computer renderings of her son’s likeness, Valerie Keeney last week wore a white sweat shirt with an American flag emblazoned across the front.

Outside, Old Glory and the Army’s 82nd Airborne flag hang from a white pole. Trees have been festooned in yellow ribbons. Even the family cocker spaniel wears a yellow ribbon around its neck.

. . . I better close for now. I’ve got a class to prepare for tomorrow. It’s on stopping the bleeding. I’ll be teaching it to our company. It’s just basic stuff, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

Hopefully, I’ll be seeing you all soon.

I love you Dad, Mom, David, Deb & Max.

Take care & pray for a speedy victory.

Daren

“We were real happy to get this,” Valerie Keeney said, holding the letter. “We hadn’t heard anything. We feel that the guys are ready, and they must be in position by now. I know he’s going to be OK.”

In San Clemente, Jeannie Baldwin is actually feeling better.

After a few weeks of nothing, the mail is starting to arrive again from Marine Sgt. Walt Baldwin, aboard the Okinawa in the Gulf.

And even with a ground assault looming that is sure to involve many more Marines, she believes that the fighting has put an end to the most painful part of her ordeal so far: waiting for war.

Well, my Love,

We’re at war. I was on watch at 0435 when I heard about the bombing. Right now, we’re listening to the President’s message. Funny, I don’t feel any different now than I did yesterday or the week before. One of the things is relief. We finally know what’s going on. . . .

Don’t worry (overly much). I’m OK. All my kids are OK and taking it in stride. . . . Baby, I love you. I’ve been up all night. I’m going to bed now. Sleep tight, love.

Virtually everywhere she goes, Baldwin carries heavy binders that hold her husband’s cards and letters, each of them arranged carefully in chronological order. Most mornings, she is the focus of good-natured ribbing at work as she troops in with her load.

Until recently, Baldwin thought a blackout had been imposed, since there had been no mail in the past few weeks.

“I was real surprised to get this,” she said, motioning to the lined notebook papers. “I always look at the letters to see how his mood is. He sounds real good here.”

So does Jeannie Baldwin.

In a previous interview during the holidays, the sight of decorations and the sound of Christmas music had made her angry.

“Now that things have started, I feel better this month than in the past. I find myself making sure things are getting done. I figured that once things started, there will be an end.”

Good morning, Love,

Early indications are favorable, but with the Scud missile attacks on Israel, I don’t know. There is a very good chance that if the Israelis attack, our Arab allies might not be our allies. A good tactical move by Hussein.

Force on force is going well. Our Marine artillery has forced the Iraqi artillery backwards. Sounds like the air battle goes well also. . . . I love you, my Jean. Don’t forget it. Can’t wait to hear (read) from you. To touch something you’ve handled. Read your thoughts. I’m yours, babe. Always have been, always will.

Love, Walt