Waiting for the day that never came.

While exploring an abandoned house outside of Waterloo I discovered some letters tucked away in a closet. After extensive research this is this is what I’ve managed to piece together:

Ruth never would meet Glenn. Still, she loved him as though they had been together for years. Every Wednesday Ruth wrote about her life, her hopes, and her dreams. He would send pictures of the South-Pacific Ocean. The last letter came before Thanksgiving of Nineteen Forty Four. She never knew what became of Sergeant Glenn D. Evans, but she never stopped believing he would find her.

To a small town girl, love wasn’t something that you found every day. Of course, she was only sixteen and couldn’t come to terms with reality. She fell in love with a man who she would never see. It was her junior year when they became pen pals and by her senior year, they intended to marry. Her brother Everett was the one who suggested she write. During the holidays she would always send them both cookies.

Glenn wasn’t from South Carolina, but California. He met Everett when he joined 148th infantry. During The Battle of Leyte, American casualties were only seventeen. Glenn’s body was never recovered, but Everett’s was. Stricken with grief at the loss of her brother, Ruth never could believe that Glenn died that day. She would live the next forty years waiting for him to return from the war.

 

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