War separates people. Husbands from wives; parents from children, grandparents from children and grandchildren, sweethearts and lovers from each other. 

And while wars may be declared because of philosophical, political, or geographic reasons, they are actually waged between young men whose hearts are elsewhere.

Politicians declare war, generals devise strategy, and young men bleed. It has always been so. Its purpose may be noble or not, it plays out the same way.

We have published letters in this column from a soldier in Iraq, Greg “Doc” Stockman, who looks forward to a reunion with his wife and new baby. It is a timeless story, repeated over the decades, the centuries, the millennia.

Here are copies of letters and documents from other wars, reproduced here not because they are unique, but because they are typical.

“Don’t try to come here now,” her Pa said. “It’s too dangerous, and the supply of food is getting very low. We are OK, but it is better for you to stay there. Your pony is very fat and pretty; Mr. Jake Holbrook rode her and hurt her back, but it is getting well; it is a lady pony; write to me and tell me what I must name her. When the war is over, I will get you a little side saddle & you shall ride with me. You must learn your book and write a letter to Pa; tell Ma not to fuss at you.” 

“Tell Grandma to let me know if you need money, and I will send it as fast as possible. Be a brave girl, mind your Grandma, and pray, as I do, that we will all be together soon.”

The letter was to his daughter. The writer was Major Andrew G. Scott, Quarter Master, CSA, and the place was Vicksburg, Mississippi, during, and soon after the conclusion, of the War of the Northern Invasion. By the time of this letter, the garrison of the Confederate Army at Vicksburg had slaughtered its mules and “converted them to rations,” having run out of feed for the mules as well as meat for the troops.

There are other documents. One dated July 4, 1863, at Vicksburg, Mississippi, is evidence of Major Scott giving his parole to the victorious Union Army, swearing that he will “not take arms again against the United States, or serve in any military, police, or constabulary force . . . held by the Confederate States of America . . ..”

Major Scott was an officer in the defeated army of the Confederate States of America. The next document, dated August 28, 1865, shows that he is swearing allegiance to the United States of America, and promising “to protect and defend the constitution,” etc. That oath is similar to the one that “Doc” Stockman and I, and every other soldier, sailor and Marine has sworn upon entering the military service in the life of our nation.

Eighty years after Major Scott swore allegiance to the Union, a U.S. flier wrote to his Sis: “This is a big week for us: Two banquets and one dance. Two days Open Post, and bid Cincinnati farewell! I hate to leave this place, because the people are so nice. I don’t believe there is another city like it in this country. Everyone is swell here!”

This was a different war, a different generation of warriors, but a similar message: “I am doing my duty, but I miss you and hope to be home soon.” I have no other messages from Lt. Frank Johnstone, the navigator on a B-24 Liberator, because his bomber was shot down over Linz, Austria, and his remains were never found.

There were rumors, however. He was a POW; he was still alive in Austria (or Germany), living with an Austrian farmer; there is a marker with his name on a cemetery in France. The most credible information, however, came from an anti-aircraft gun crew in Austria, who furnished the tail number of his B-24 as one they shot down near Linz.

Wars come and go. Only the names change.

There was a “P.S.” to Lt. Frank Johnstone’s letter: “You mentioned something about a Christmas present. If you were planning to get me anything for Christmas, get me a pair of BROWN gloves. I can use them in my flying.”