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John Buddy. You got your wish. The guys with you made it. You were the only one that got taken out.

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Well, I received a letter from my buddy John (Staff Sergeant John L Hartman Jr.) less than a week before he died. Which is probably good. Getting it after he was killed would probably have been too much to bear. Anyhow, there are a few paragraphs that I will share. It really does describe what he was like.

Daily my prayers get longer for those around me. I have no request for self and seem to be getting pissed that no one’s listening!

And this.

Rich, Mom doesn’t know how bad it is here this time around and I led her to believe it’s under control, Please help me with this. Your letters have kept my spirits up. Thank you.

I’m trying to remember some of the good times.

Just so you all know. John was not the type of friend who would bail you out of jail. That just wasn’t his style. No, he was the type of friend who would be sitting next to you in the cell going “I cannot believe we actually did that! That was a BLAST! hahahaha…”

I ended up down in Atlanta for a week while John was in Georgia, so we hooked up with a buddy of his Drew, and drove down to Florida to do some fishing with his dad.

John and Drew Fishing

It started out quiet enough. But, it was hot, and there was beer involved, and before you know it, well, I’ll just let the pictures tell the story.

Psycho Fishing

And then it really got out of hand.

That was a fun trip.

That was also the trip where John won us all free beer at a local bar by winning the tricycle races. (-: Buy me a beer some time and I might tell ya that story.

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