Dear Brendon,

We had our first battle situation yesterday, well it wasn't technically a battle because it didn't last long enough or something like that. Pete cut himself on a Viet Cong trap that sliced up his shoulder something awful, but he'll be fine after a week in the hospital wing. He doesn't get to go home to his wife and his kid, he has to stay here in these dumbass swamps.

I felt awful, but I hoped he got shot. Not in the gut or the head, but the arm or the leg; somewhere bad enough to get him sent home, but not so bad it killed him. Maybe then he would get to hear from his wife and see his little boy grow up.

But, Bren, that is how terrible it is here. You wish for your body to get mutilated just so you can come home. Vietnam ruins lives. It takes dreams away and puts them in the fires that we set to burn whole villages to the ground. After we left yesterday, they cleared out the villages and sent the people to what are basically labor camps; we set their town and forest on fire so that the communists couldn't use it. How terrible is that?

And I may have killed someone yesterday. Someone was firing at our boat from the trees, and I shot at the first sign of movement. I may have killed someone, and I never even saw their face. Everyone around here seems to think that I'm a hero because I figured out the Cong battle map and led them into a battle and then shot someone, but I feel disgusting inside. Josh doesn't think I'm a hero, to him I'm anything but a hero.

Tyler Joseph got shot, he's in the hospital, but I don't think he will live through the night. I tried to make him stay down; a real leader would have tackled him to the ground to keep him down. But he got up, and a bullet ripped straight through his side. Maybe I should have jumped in front of the shell for him, I mean I would have done it for you. Tyler deserves to be loved the way I love you, and now he may never get that kind of love.

Is it bad that I wish I got shot too? I wish I lost a leg or something that would get me right back next to you. Even if I came home dead, I would still get to come home to you, and that's all I want. We are moving out tomorrow to find Charlie and flush out the first quadrant. It'll be a lot of walking and sleeping with our heads in the mud, and I know the whole time I'm gonna wish I were with you in our bed with that little puppy of yours.

It started raining last night, and it hasn't stopped. Some of our Vietnamese counterparts say that it won't quit for a long time, so I'm sorry if this letter is a little wet. I miss home though, it's always decently sunny and dry and not a swamp. And you are there with your cute face and sassy attitude, that's the first thing I noticed about you when I picked you up. You carried yourself with such panache and confidence, and I was in love with you from that moment. When I miss you, I think of that night in the makeshift tent and what it felt like to be with you. I felt so sorry that a guy that looked like a prince had to sleep under a tarp, but then I think about what if we hadn't run out of gas that night. We probably would've gotten separate beds in a cheap motel and would have never had an intimate exchange. How long would we have gone before we figured it out? Or would I have just left you in Pittsburgh and never looked back? I have always been a drifter, but I never want to drift away from you. You are my everything.

Lieutenant Way wants me to apply to be his second in command, but I don't think I'm cut out for that kind of position. It would mean more battle time and more killing and more guilt. I don't think I could handle the guilt that would come with a job like that, and I don't think a writer from Pittsburgh could be in charge like that. A lot of people already don't respect me as it is, they definitely won't respect me if I'm in charge.

Also, if I were in charge, it would mean more time in this godforsaken country. It would be more time without you, and I could never do that. Every moment without you is worse than being trapped in a room with the air being sucked out of it. You are my oxygen. Without you, I feel like I can't breathe. I need to kiss you and to have your skin touch mine so that life can flow back into me. I can't wait to see you when I get home. I can't wait to see you standing in our apartment with your wonderfully messy hair and that smile that makes me the happiest I've ever been.

I know your birthday is coming up, Brendon. Don't you dare come here, don't you dare. If I find out you shipped out over here, it will tear me apart inside. You are the only reason I fight to stay alive over here, and if you get killed over here, then I will never forgive myself. I'm counting down to days until my service is done here, I have eight and a half months until I get on a boat and go home to you. If it drags on the way, the past months have then it will feel like an eternity. Not being able to look forward to seeing you will make it even longer. 

If you get a letter, burn it and run away. I would rather have to chase you around the country than have to receive an MIA notice. I would chase you for a hundred years if it meant that you didn't have to come over here and could survive. I will find you, no matter where you are, I will always find you.

Love you forever,
Your Dally Duck

Brendon cried as his fingers ran over words his fiance had written. Dallon had touched this letter; he couldn't help but crave the feeling of his hands on him. That was all he wanted was to feel him again, to run his fingers through his perpetually messy hair and get lost in his ocean blue eyes. That's all he needed.

There was a grim feeling around the apartment, even the new puppy that always seemed to be making some kind of sound was utterly silent. This was the day that had been haunting them for the longest time. Brendon hadn't even gotten out of bed, nor eaten the breakfast that the girls had made for him. Maybe if he never got out of bed, then this day would never happen.

Today was his eighteenth birthday — a day that had been torn out of the calendar and ignored altogether. All he wanted to do today was lay in his bed that was too large for one person and read the letters that his love had written him from the depths of the Vietnam swamps. The rough paper was mud-stained and water damaged, but Dallon had touched this same paper, and that was all he needed in life.

"Hey Bren, there's um . . .  there's um . . ." Caroline couldn't even get out the words that sat on the tip of her tongue.

"There's an army guy here to see you." Lindsey spat out, not looking at the sniffling boy that was tangled in the sheets of the king-sized bed.

"Tell him I'm not here." He groaned, hiding his face in the pillows.

"I tried, he won't go away until he sees you." Caroline didn't look up when she spoke, just kept her eyes glued to her socked feet.

Brendon just groaned, trying to think of a way to get out of doing this. He threw on a shirt and made his way out to the living room; there was a mirror that hung on the wall in the big open space, in that mirror he saw the reflection of someone he no longer recognized. The man in the mirror was one that hadn't shaven in days and hadn't slept in even longer. A black and white Boston terrier trotted out of the bedroom behind him but had yet to make a sound.

Around the corner, a man dressed in a pristine uniform stood with an envelope in his hand. Tucked under his arm was his hat, it symbolized a life that Brendon did not want to live. The hat meant honor and glory, but in reality, it was a life as ugly as the swamp that his boyfriend was trapped in. The man's hair was in a short-cut that undoubtedly matched every other man that served in the corp.

"Pack your bags son. You have been called to the line of duty." He handed the trembling boy the envelope.

"But he just turned eighteen, he's basically still a kid. You can't make him go." Lindsey cried out, no longer able to contain her tongue.

"Ma'am my job is just to ensure that our country wins the war, and that takes men. As of today Mr. Urie is a man and can fight for his country." The man just stared expectantly at the younger that just held the envelope in both of his hands.

Brendon didn't know what the officer expected from him. He didn't even know what to expect from himself. Should he wait for the officer to leave and make a run for it? Should go with him and try to get in the same company as Dallon? Dallon would never forgive him if he went to Nam. The girls would never forgive him; the two of them would go crazy if he weren't around. Not to mention the fact that they would be stuck with his dog for a year.

"Son, I am to escort you to the training camp in Texas along with other recruits from your area." Brendon's eyes widened.

"I-I-I-I have t-to leave t-to-today." He stuttered out, realizing that his choice had just been taken away from him.

Caroline cried out and dramatically ran to hug him; Lindsey just hung back and bit her lip to keep from sobbing. The girl hugging him was pretending to be his girlfriend, and the older girl couldn't comfort her fiance. Their already complicated tangle of lies was tangling up even more. Brendon racked his brain for any excuse to get out of this.

"I have mental illnesses, um ADHD a-and anxiety." Brendon hoped that would be a good enough excuse.

"So do half of the men in Nam, son, it is an honor to serve your country, and you are lucky to be given the opportunity." He returned his hat to his head and folded his gloved hands in front of him. "It is time to go. I will give you five minutes to pack your essentials and say goodbye to your sweetheart. You will be given new clothes and shoes when you get there, so pack anything you can't live without."

Brendon's hands shook as he turned and went back to his bedroom, followed by Caroline, who desperately wanted the comfort of the one she truly loved but couldn't because there was a military officer present. Neither spoke as they packed a small bag with basic toiletries and underwear. Caroline pulled the stack of letters Dallon had sent him from the drawer they were tucked away in and wrapped them up in a t-shirt. She hid them deep in the bottom of the bag. Brendon held the only thing he needed to go to Vietnam. A picture of the four of them standing in front of Niagra Falls. His eyes stung as he stared at the four people in the photo. All of them looked young and happy, none of them were plagued with the thought of war and draft letters. Brendon stowed the framed picture amongst the softest items in his bag so that it wouldn't break and zipped the bag closed.

The boy took one last look around the room that he used to share with the man he loved. Dallon's leather jacket still hung on the bedpost where the older man had left it when he boarded the boat to Vietnam. For the first time, Brendon took it from it's resting place and hugged the coat to his chest. If he tried hard, he could still smell Dallon in the old leather. Dallon smelled like rain on asphalt and windy days. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried his hardest not to cry. He was an adult now, old enough to fight for his country. He couldn't cry anymore.

"It'll be okay Bren, with any luck the war will end before you're done with training. And then you and Dallon can both come home." Caroline sat next to him and allowed the younger to lean on his shoulder.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better. That war is never-ending. You've seen the things about it on the television. No one is coming out of there alive." Brendon was too scared to cry now. He was about to train for his death.

"Brendon, it's time to go." Lindsey popped her head into the room, signaling that the officer outside was tired of waiting.

For the last time, Brendon hugged the two girls that had supported him while Dallon was gone goodbye. The nights when he missed Dallon so much he couldn't sleep, both of the girls would comfort him. They were the reason that he and Dallon were able to have a relationship. He could remember having anxiety attacks in public and Caroline helping him calm down because Dallon doing it would have drawn too much attention. And going home with her for the holidays so her parents wouldn't know about her and Lindsey. They were his best friends, and he loved them.

"I don't know what I am going to tell Dallon. When he left, I promised him that this would never happen. I promised him that I would protect you and keep you safe." Brendon had never seen Lindsey cry, but now tears were spilling from her eyes.

He hugged her close, doing her best to comfort her. But he had been thinking the same thing the whole time. How was he going to tell Dallon that he got drafted? That there had been no way to run? That he was coming to Vietnam?