"For Anna": a fictional story for a vintage B&W Photo
- molly hicks
- Apr 29
- 3 min read
Updated: May 4
Breathing New Life Into a Vintage B&W Photo: A Soldier’s Letter From Vietnam
March, 1968 — Somewhere outside Da Nang, Vietnam
My Dearest Anna,
I managed to sneak away a few minutes before supper call to jot this down. The air’s thick here — not cold like back home in Ohio, but heavy, wet, and clinging. The kind that makes your clothes stick to your skin and the mosquitos come in clouds. But it’s quiet for now, and that’s a blessing in itself.
Enclosed with this letter is another photograph. You’ll laugh when you see it, Anna, I know you will. I can hear you already, your hand covering your mouth as you try not to wake the baby, that bright, easy laugh of yours filling the house like it always did.
This picture, well — it’s about two-thirds of the company. The photographer, a kid from Tennessee with a beat-up old Kodak he swears he smuggled from his uncle’s shed, decided to take one last shot before we moved camp tomorrow. Said it was for posterity. Or maybe just something to send home.
The surroundings are better than the last one I sent. There’s a stand of scraggly trees behind us, a stretch of road that leads deeper into the hills. If you look close — though it might be hard with how far back he stood — you’ll find me kneeling in the front row, third from the left. That’s Jenkins beside me with his ridiculous grin. He always finds a way to smile, even when the rest of us are half-soaked and bone-tired.
I wish you could meet these boys. Some of them are rough around the edges, some too young to be here, but all good men. O’Shea, the tall one near the back with his cap askew, tells stories at night that’d make the preacher blush. And little Marston, hardly seventeen, barely noticeable in the way back (I've marked) carries a picture of his girl that’s more worn than his pocket Bible.
It’s strange, the things you hold onto out here. A photograph. A letter. A sound remembered in the dark. You cling to these scraps because they remind you there’s a world beyond the next march, beyond the rattling chopper blades, beyond the long nights with nothing but the jungle sounds and a flickering memory for company.
I hope this finds you well, my love. Give the baby a kiss from his old man. And when you look at this picture, try to imagine us there — a gang of muddy, stubborn souls holding on to a little scrap of light in the thick, green dusk.
And please, don’t laugh too hard at our faces.
Yours always,
Will
About This Story
At Hicks Film Studio, every picture has a story waiting to be told — whether it’s captured on vintage film or a faded snapshot tucked in a shoebox.
This piece is part of our Phiction series: short, imagined stories sparked by vintage B&W photos and vintage relics. This fictional letter was inspired by an old photograph I found in a local antique shoppe, giving new life to a forgotten moment in time. In case this photo actually does come from a World War II or Vietnam War-era company, and while the names and details are fictional, the spirit of camaraderie and longing for home remains... timeless.
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Hicks Film Studio is specialized in preserving your timeless moments through traditional film photography. This passion for film extends to developing your film and scanning your negatives into digital images, ensuring the highest quality results.
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