Bound By A Rubberband

They were still bound by a red rubber band,
The letters she had sent so long ago,
And in his hand he felt the time they spanned.
Then he remembered when he was her beau.
They all arrived very sporadically.
He read them sitting in his small foxhole,
And wrote his own letters to her daily.
Getting home to her was his only goal.
He took down targets as they all appeared.
He thought killing them got him close to home.
Not getting there was all he ever feared.
It's all he thought as he lay in the loam.
So long ago the two should have been wed,
Except the last letter said she was dead.