Letter form a “Farm Kid”

posted September 26th, 2011 by John B.

Many letters are sent out the first week of any boot camp from recruits that want to come home.  I know mine was no exception.  So, when I came across this fake letter it made me laugh.  I always get a chuckle from it.  Funny how people have a great sense of humor about life… Enjoy.

Dear Ma and Pa,

I am well. Hope you are too.  Tell Brother Rudy and Brother Berto the Marine Corps beats working for old man Mitchel by a mile.  Tell them to join up quick  before all of the places are filled. I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but I am getting so I like to sleep late.

Tell Rudy and Berto all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot, and shine some things.  No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay;  practically nothing.  Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there’s warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc. but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food, but tell Rudy and Berto you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you til noon when you get fed again. It’s no wonder these city boys can’t walk much.  We go on “route marches”, which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us.  If he thinks so, it’s not my place to tell him different.  A “route march” is about as far as to our mailbox at home.  Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks. The country is nice but awful flat.

The Sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot.  The Captain is like the school board.  Majors and colonels just ride around and frown.  They don’t bother you none. This next will kill Rudy and Berto with laughter.  I keep getting medals for shooting.  I don’t know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don’t move, and it ain’t shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home.  All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don’t even load your own cartridges, cause they come in boxes.

Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training.  You get to wrestle with them city boys.  I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain’t like fighting with that ole bull at home. I’m about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake.  I only beat him once.  He joined up the same time as me, but I’m only 5’6″ and 130 pounds and he’s 6’8″ and near 300 pounds dry.

Be sure to tell Rudy and Berto to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.

Your loving daughter,
Gail-

Now I never met a “Gail” (Woman Marine) in the Marine Corps that felt the same way, but I did know a lot of farm boys from Alaska (Corporal Horton), Texas (Corporal Sewell), Nebraska (Corporal Johnson), Montana (Corporal Hill), and Washinton (Corporal O’Conner) that felt the same way.  These guys could hunt, track, and live off the land.  I learned a great deal of military tactics and about life in general from each of them.  Semper Fi my Brothers and Sisters!

John-

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