To Any Soldier

My Army career as a second lieutenant was a baptism by fire. I was assigned to Korea for my first year; returned to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, for around two months; and then deployed to the Persian Gulf War in 1991.

Married for only a year and a half, I was missing my wife and baby daughter when I was in-processed to the Fifth Special Forces Group. As a unit on the

* Sometimes 100 words just aren’t enough!

go in the years before cell phones and Wi-fi, we had limited opportunities to communicate with loved ones.

One night while sitting by myself, I investigated the “Any Soldier” mailbox, a dilapidated cardboard box with letters and packages from Americans. I chose one shoebox-size package. Inside was a bag of stale chocolate-chip cookies. Underneath, I found about 20 cards from children who had drawn stick figure people and asked about riding camels, eating spiders, and how often I could swim in the ocean. At the bottom was a letter from their teacher in Ohio explaining how her kids had put the box together and how they supported our efforts in the war.

I was truly touched by this gesture and decided to write a letter of gratitude. I thanked the teacher for what her children had done—its impact on my patriotism, my morale, and, most significantly, my uplifted faith. For security reasons, I was able to sign only my name.

Around 2013, I received a Facebook friend request from a woman with whom I shared no contacts. I replied that unless we were friends, I could not accept her request. She responded with one question: “Are you 2LT Bartholomew?” I replied that I had been at one time. Her reply stuck with me.

“Dear sir,” she wrote. “We have never met, but in 1991 I was a second-grade teacher at a school in Ohio and our classroom sent a care package addressed to ‘Any Service Member.’ The thank-you letter you composed was framed and has been posted on the wall of the school for more than 20 years. I wanted to again thank you for your service to our country. God bless you.”

We never spoke again, but this gracious teacher reinforced my belief in doing what my mother always taught me: Write thank-you notes—you never know how many people your kindness can touch.