"Dear Mr. Inman.

"I began by counting the days,

"then the months.

"I don't count on anything anymore except the hope that you will return,

"and the silent fear that in the years since we saw each other,

this war, this awful war, will have changed us both beyond all reckoning."

This poor boy's from Alabama.

- He's a long way from home. - Thank you.

Why don't them Yanks just attack?

Got any shirts, son?

Mm-hm-hm-hm

It's Mo Oakley's boy.

Can't be old enough to fight, can he?

- Good morning. - Morning, son.

Got some boots and jackets. You want one?

- Here. You want that? - Thanks.

I hope these boots can hold up for 400 miles,

'cause they're taking me back to Cold Mountain.

"I think now on the fleeting moments between us

"and wish I could repair them.