He put the manual on the desk and stood as she left the room, walking over to the nightstand. He pulled the drawer open, and got out a few sheets of paper and a pen.
Sitting at the desk, he uncapped the pen and thought about what to write. The code was easy enough, certain words meant certain things, but working them into a plausible and inconspicuous story was going to be the hard part.
He wrote:
Dear Aunt Mabel,
It is nearly summer here in Paris, and the weather has been extremely fair so far. I hope you're not worrying to much about me, Henry, and Michael, I know how much a week or two without word concerns you.
Johnson's wife now knew who he was, where he was, and how long he'd been there.
My family here is doing well. We stayed on their farm for a while and helped with the planting. We're all hoping for a mild summer, so the crops won't dry out. We helped birth of a couple calves, but neither of them survived.
Now she knew they had both died, and that he was the only survivor. Charlie wished he could deliver the news in person.
Please look in on my grandfather if you pass by. He gets lonely since my grandmother died last winter, and I worry about him being all alone. My letters can only do so much.
"Grandfather" was code for the commanding officer of the base where they were stationed. Charlie didn't know how they'd react knowing that one man was in Paris, but he hoped they wouldn't try a rescue mission. He wasn't worth the risk - he didn't need to be the cause of more men's deaths.
Give my cousins a kiss for me, and tell them that maybe when they're older, they can join me for a summer.
With love, Luke
He looked it over once, and wrote a similar letter to Mac's wife, writing it as to a cousin, rather than an aunt. He'd run them by Fancy to see if she could tell the code.