Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, April 21, 1991 TAG: 9104210213
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: JAMES VINCENT BRADY/ FORT WORTH STAR-TELEGRAM
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
November, he signed off, "Operation `Aren't we through yet?' Oct. 90-?"
And later, "Operation `What the hell are we doing here?' Oct. 90-God Knows When"
And, too, "Serving the People Proudly - Not the Government"
Toward the end, when the soldiers knew they would be in battle and great forces would be taking over, he closed saying, "No matter what happens, remember, we were only doing what we had to do."
Most of Grenvall's letters, even those written in battle, concentrated on the people who were the main forces in his own life. He signed simply, "Love."
Oct. 13
The Army has already ruled this as the worst place to pull duty. I could have told them that. I am so sick of drinking plain bottled water. Just think about it. They can't even tell us when we're going home. At least in Vietnam they knew how long each tour would be.
They did tell us, though, that there is a 99% probability that we will all go home with combat patches. .
Keep the mail coming. It's my only escape.
Nov. 15
By now Terri Duty [a co-worker of Sue Grenvall] received my letter and told you about the soldier being crushed to death. He was only 22 and married. It shook our unit up pretty bad. The memorial service was like a normal ceremony until the very end when First Sergeant Collins starts doing rollcall. Everyone answered with "here" until he hit Clarke's name. He said his name twice. The third time he said his name and read off his Social Security number. As he said the last number, the bugler on the ridge blew Taps. It was moving to say the least.
I just wonder what went though his mother's mind when she answered the front door and saw the men in Dress Blues, because that's the only way they notify relatives. I just hope none of y'all ever has to find out what she felt.
To say I'm not scared would be a lie. But I am ready to fight to the death if I have to. Everybody over here keeps talking about who's gonna "win!" Don't they get it? Nobody's gonna win!! There's only losers in war. The ones who die & especially the families they leave behind.
I need cigarettes - cartons and cartons. I was going to quit, but I can't right now. I've got too much on my mind. . . .
Jan. 26
We listen to all of the protesters every day. They say they're not against the soldiers but that we should have given sanctions a year to a year and half. They also say Bush and Congress were not acting on what the people wanted. I have yet to meet a soldier who wasn't ready to go to war. Everybody here knew what we were getting into. We would rather take our chances on dying than to sit here for a year to a year and a half. Even if you die, at least you're not here. . . .
Being set out in the desert with little to do but wait, soldiers had little to do but think. In Grenvall's case, the isolation became a clarifying experience, a chance to set things right with the people in his life. The messages came between the small-talk and updates, little by little, one by one. He began with his mother.
Dec. 11
Let me take this portion of the letter to speak to Mom. . . . Your statement about being insecure about my love - that actually brought tears to my eyes. I am truly sorry if at any time I have conveyed that feeling to you. You carried me for nine months and then gave birth to me on April 20, 1967. From that day forward you protected me from all harm, taught me right from wrong, kept me clothed and fed, and most of all you loved me. No matter what I did. In turn you taught me to love. I know I don't say I love you as much as I should. I always took for granted that it was understood. That was my mistake. I love you in a way that no one else can. When you hurt, I hurt. That's the reason I didn't call the day I left. I knew it was tearing you up inside and I somehow feel responsible for that pain you feel. . . . Please remember that poem I gave you for Mothers's day when I was in the sixth grade.
God searched over land and sea,
And found a mom just for me.
He said it wasn't fun,
But he found me the best one.
I never forgot that. The insecurities are only in your mind. Not in your heart. I love you, mom.
Perhaps the hardest one to write - it was the longest in coming - was to his father. Bruce and Brett were two best buddies - until Brett, like all teen-agers, got a mind of his own. It was a strange time - during the separation of war - that each of them has decided the contest of wills is over. Brett knew the ground war was coming, and wrote the letter.
Feb. 5
Dear Dad,
I know that I usually write both of you, but this time I have something to say to you. Here goes.
I'm a lot more like you than you can imagine. . . . You said that I was never afraid to try something. Wrong! I was afraid, but I always knew in the back of my mind that if I fell you'd be there to catch me. You'd be mad, but nonetheless, you'd be there. Well guess what? I don't think you'll be able to catch me if something goes wrong this time. I knew that when I got myself into this one. I've done a lot of apologizing since I've been here, and I'm ready for whatever happens next. I just hope I don't "fall" this time.
You're the one who taught me to stand my ground. I have to thank you for that. It seems we were so close until my thirteenth birthday. When I wanted to go with my friends instead of you. . . . I wish there was a way I could make it up to you, but I don't think there is. It wouldn't be the same, because I'll never be 13 again.
I just hope that I can even be half the father you are. You taught me never to quit and always stand your ground. I still am.
I love you, Dad.
Your son,
Brett.
Most Americans might remember videotape of bomb drops, correspondents talking about Scud attacks. The ground soldiers will remember their own highlights, but they will never forget the living conditions. Nor the flies.
Nov. 15
The living conditions aren't bad if you don't mind cold open showers, piss pipes stuck in the ground, and outhouses made of screen. Not to mention living with 13 other men in one tent. If you don't mind sweating all day and freezing all night. It's winter now, and damn cold at night.
Nov. 19
Please send 3 dozen white roses and 3 red roses to Paula on Dec. 11th. I will send you a check for whatever it costs. On the card put "These roses are but a small token of my love for you, that will flourish long after these flowers are forgotten memories. I'm sorry I can't be there. I promise this is the last anniversary we will be apart. All my love, Brett."
It would mean a lot if y'all could do that for me. Because even though the army has messed up my anniversary every year, I always get the white roses to her.
Jan. 29
Sometimes I think the cold I feel is from the inside. It's the empty feeling I have without Paula. There are times I miss her so much that I don't want to get up in the morning. But I do. If for nothing else, just to prove I can do it. It's becoming a challenge more and more each day just to keep my chin up. But you know me. I'm always "O.K." I know I'll make it, I just wonder what scars will be left. Will they hurt what Paula and I have? . . .
After all I've put Paula through, I wouldn't blame her if she couldn't handle this one. It's gonna be a mighty tall order to fill. I don't even know if I'll be me by the time I get home. . . .
by CNB