When The Sun Sets

Letters Harry Never Sent to Annaliese (February 1918)

February 1918

Dear Annaliese,

It's my birthday. I expect to receive your letter within a week or two. Maybe our letters will cross paths. Yours incoming and mine outgoing.

I haven't told anyone that it's my birthday. We did a lot of training today so everyone's tired. They're either resting or having dinner. I'm in the bunks right now, about to get dressed for dinner. I'll pretend that the corned beef is a birthday cake -- the lemon one with the rich icing you frequently make for me.

I hope you're feeling a little better. In your last letter, I could hear your sadness. You're not that great at hiding how you're truly feeling from me. I know New Years must have been difficult because it was for me as well. I wish I were kissing you against the door of the bedroom again. 3 years have passed since then. I thought about it all day.

I hope things go better with that neighbor. Perhaps you can become better friends with her. To be fair, I always thought you were a bit of a psycho before I got to know you too. In an endearing manner, of course. Your neighbor does seem like she could be a pain in the ass, but who else will you be friends with, your 9 year old students who can barely speak English, much less French?

I'm only kidding. Can you smile a bit?

On a more serious note, Annaliese, I feel terribly guilty for leaving you all alone in a foreign country. I wished to remove myself from my family and I got exactly what I wanted, but you got exactly what you dreaded. It is my duty and only purpose in these letters to remind you that I may be far, but I am safe. You are far, but you are strong. I hope you consider my words. Don't kill me when I get back.

How is work? You haven't written about it in a while. Are you still settling in? I can imagine you getting dressed in pants instead of dresses. I know you've always hated those dresses. I imagine you with your tight trousers, heeled boots, and tucked in blouse. Could you wear your work uniform when I arrive home? I crave to see you in the attire. What a sight that would be!

But, really, my love, quit worrying. You'll give yourself frown lines, something you drilled into my mind during those summer days in London. Quit being concerned about me. I am okay. I am warm and fed. I plan to stay this way. It's important to remember that you cannot do anything for me, but trust that I can take care of myself. I plan on returning to you in one piece without a single scar on my body.

That will be my birthday wish. For you to rest and write me a letter in which you express how dearly you love me without the tear stains.

Come on, Annaliese. You're honestly going to cry over me and let me ridicule you for it? Don't go soft on me.

Anyways, I'm looking forward to my birthday letter. And my Valentine's Day letter. Send me some pictures, will you? The ones that I like.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll write the words until my fingers bleed. I can hardly breathe when thinking of you. We'll be alright.

Your old, aging, decomposing husband that you love oh so dearly,

Harry

god I can't send this.