June 25th, 1967
June 17, 1967
Dear Cuz,
Long time no write. Sorry for the delay. It seems they switched my orders the day I landed. I'm out here in nowhere land. Not even the Vietcong want to come out to this place. There are times (like all the time) when I think this is really a loony bin and I'm hallucinating everything around me.
All I do is fold towels all day. They pay me $240 a month to do this. This is the Army. The guys with the exciting jobs get killed. The guys with dull jobs shoot drugs.
I'm doing everything I can to stay away from the hard stuff. Nobody here wants to deal with reality. The reality is overwhelming.
So everybody stays stoned. But it's a whole different thing than getting high in Frisco. Hey, you wouldn't believe the grass we’re smoking here. Two tokes and you're high for three days.
But it's so quiet here, Pete. It scares the shit out of me. It's quiet all the time. No guns. No bombs. If I never walked out of the building I could pretend I was back in Philly. But I'm not, Cuz. And that's what scares the shit out of me. You never know where it's coming from.
Hey, I saw the latest issue of Look magazine. What's going on there, Cuz? That's all anybody talks about here. They can't wait to get back to the States so they can hit the Haight-Ashbury.
You wouldn't believe who I met on the plane coming over. Remember Darryl Ross from St. Joe's? He's dead now. Two days after he got here.
I'm due back next July. I'll come to see you before I go to Philly. I'll never forget those few days we spent together in Frisco.
Janie says she's tried on her wedding dress when nobody was home. We've set the date for next August.
Pray for my wedding, Cuz.
Love and Peace,
Feeney