March 25th, 1940.
{Writing}
Dear, Harry:
I don't really like reading newspapers.
I fear that if I read a single newspaper, I'll read that something bad has happened. That we've lost and that I've officially lost you. I know you're okay though, but I still worry.
These past few days have been nothing but horrid. Nothing but loss, torture, and evil.
Sometimes I just ask myself "why? Why do we have to fight?" then I remember, we're fighting to fight our enemies. Fighting for our lives. Fighting for our protection. Protection from the wicked. From the evil. Fighting for our families; And most importantly, fighting for our people.
I shouldn't have argued with you against what you were passionate about. I know you chose the right thing to do. Just please protect yourself and others. I love you so much. Take care.
Love, Louis.
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