Doyle was from a very small town in Washington. And from a big, very poor family. He was drafted out of high school and was sent to Vietnam. I got his name off of a list that was published in the newspaper(in those days all troops addresses were put into the paper for
Them to receive mail from the states)
I began to write to him and his letters were often and filled with the scenes and sounds of Vietnam. His story of the monkey he found and it became his pet. And how he had an easy job of driving the "Donut Dollys" and USO workers back and forth to the Base he was at.
His letters were very humble, and kind. And then all of sudden the letters stopped.
One day I was at the store where my mother worked and in front of me was a woman who my mother was checking out and her check had her name ,and my mother told her "my daughter writes to an Anderson from Arlington. Are you related"
The woman began to cry and said ,"yes, that was my son ,he was killed last week,but he never wrote much so I dont have much of my son"
I went home took all the letters tied them with a ribbon .and took them to my mother .
My mother told me that when Mrs Anderson came in again. She just gave the letters to the mother, Mrs Anderson. Just looked at my mom
And began to cry and told my mother to tell me thank you.
I have visited Doyles grave in Arlington,Washington. And in the country,open on a hill and all alone. But I dont think Doyle is alone any longer.