William, on the other hand, had almost become a character of their own creation. Sure, there had been a flesh and blood William. Whose loss he mourned every single day. But this whole thing had been at William’s urging. His very design—to help Tom find the poetry in life where there had only been singularly focused planning.

Tom had hoped that it would be a diversion for Margaret too. John had described how devoted she was to their parents and to her work, almost to her own detriment. “She could use some loosening up,” he’d once said. So the letters were a lark. A pastime between two people when they most needed it.

But it had become more. He could sense it. At least on his part.

Her letters had become like air.

And, like air, a shift could create a storm.

He’d never missed William more. He could use his friend’s advice. John’s too.

What would happen at the end of the war? When she expected her friend to return to the States and come to meet her?

He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

And there was a fair chance he wouldn’t live long enough to find out.

Tom knew his thoughts were addled with the acutely felt despair of watching too many friends bleed to death and the helplessness that accompanied it. And so he would save any decisions about writing Margaret for another day when his head was more clear and disaster behind them.

Besides, there was no paper with which to write. And if there were, it would serve them better as cigarette rolls. Some of the men had become desperate enough to light up blades of grass just to find relief in the smoky scent.

The letters would have to be written only in his mind—the thread by which he hung, clinging to memories of another life. But the hope that he might someday be able to send them was just about the only thing that kept him in the fight.

Dear Margaret, he imagined.

We’d hoped a victory in Holland would give purpose to the many losses we’ve suffered. But it was not meant to be.

Churchill and Roosevelt and Field Marshall Montgomery cooked up a plan for tens of thousands of airborne troops to descend on the Netherlands—specifically the territory between Eindhoven and Nijmegen—securing nine bridges that would cut off the Germans. The Market operation. The Garden operation would employ ground troops and armored vehicles to take over and bulge into German territory.

The 101st Airborne was supposed to commandeer the bridges at Son en Breugel, but when we arrived, the Germans had already destroyed the Wilhelminakanaal at Son. Our mission failed before we even touched the ground.