The next letter had giant bold type on the front reading; THIS LETTER WAS RETURNED TO SENDER.

September 18th 1940

Dearest James,

I know I can't send a letter to you, you've told me this many times. I'd just like to feel like I can talk to you because every minute here I spend alone feels like years without you. You'd laugh, I know I'm being dramatic. The truth is I feel so useless here, working in a factory to pay some of the bills while you risk your life. How is that fair? I should be with you.

I'm trying not to think about what may be happening to you. It's just too much to bear the thought of you being killed.

-Beth