Monday, March 11, 1918.

Dear Marie,

Your letter of the 9^(th) came this noon. I have told you that I shall
not marry and that is the very good reason why I can’t call you “my
little girl,” and why you should “look ahead a few years.” The thought
of marrying a French girl is furtherest out of my mind, so forget that
clipping.

Marie, I always want to be the very best true friend to you that I
possibly can be. I want to help you in every way I can. If there is a
single thing I can do to make you happier, I want to do it. If there is
anything I have written that you don’t understand, tell me. I have never
known and never hope to know any girl so perfect in every way as you
are, so you may be sure that you are in no way responsible for what I
said in the first of my letter.

I will surely send you a lock of my hair in a few days.

We are not drilling very much now as there is so much other work to do
in preparing to leave. Last Saturday Major Sanger gave us a formal
inspection with full packs and shelter-tent pitching drill. Lietenant
Killberry told us when we returned from the parade ground that we had
done “excellently.” It will be impossible for you to see me as we may
get orders to go any day now. There is nothing I would like better than
to see you but we might just as well shut the thought from our minds.

Did you get the picture (vest pocket size) of me shooting the pistol?

Later I may send one of me with full pack as we go in the field.

Within the next few days I will probably send several packages home;
will you please tell Mother to drop a card acknowledging receipt?

Here is what Sgt. Brown’s girl wrote to him:

“If my kisses to you had weight, I would have to send them by freight.”

“How is it by you?”

Won’t you please tell me that?

With love,

Forrest.

P.S. Don’t forget to tell me if you got the picture. When I say that I
believe you are by far the most perfect girl – I mean it in every way.

No other girl can ever approach the place you have in my thoughts.

Forrest.