March 19th, 1943

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My Dearest Bucky,

I can't even begin to imagine how you are right now. It's war. Our country is being dragged to hell and everyone is coming with us.

I'm still working overtime at the factory. It's painful and my hands are very sore, but I need the money.

Steve and I went for lunch yesterday. He's still very persistent about wanting to be in the army. I'm worried about him. He looks like he's lost sleep. Are you writing to him?

Tell me everything you want to know about back home. I heard that helps soldiers a little bit.

I love you Bucky Barnes. Stay safe. Please.


~Love, Rebecca Wood

Love, Rebecca Wood // Bucky Barnes ✔️Where stories live. Discover now