A young farm kid wrote home after joining the marines with this hilarious letter. A version of this has been floating around the web for a while, but a reader recently submitted this slightly altered version, and it’s a great read.
Dear Ma and Pa:
I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled.
I was restless at first because you get to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m. But I am getting used to it, so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer 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 Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food, plus yours, holds you until 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 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 Walt and Elmer with laughing. 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. 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 Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.
Your loving daughter,
Boom! Marine, farm kid, and a young girl? Doesn’t get much tougher than that.
My husband and I were dressed and ready to go out for a lovely evening of dinner and theatre.
Having been burgled in the past, we turned on a ‘night light’ and the answering machine, then put the cat in the backyard.
When our cab arrived, we walked out our front door and our rather tubby cat scooted between our legs inside, then ran up the stairs.
Because our cat likes to chase our budgie we really didn’t want to leave them unchaperoned so my husband ran inside to retrieve her and put her in the back yard again.
Because I didn’t want the taxi driver to know our house was going to be empty all evening, I explained to him that my husband would be out momentarily as he was just bidding goodnight to my mother.
A few minutes later he got into the cab all hot and bothered, and said (to my growing horror and amusement) as the cab pulled away. “Sorry it took so long but the stupid bitch was hiding under the bed and I had to poke her arse with a coat hanger to get her to come out! She tried to take off so I grabbed her by the neck and wrapped her in a blanket so she wouldn’t scratch me like she did last time. But it worked! I hauled her fat arse down the stairs and threw her into the backyard….she had better not shit in the vegetable garden again.”
The silence in the taxi was deafening…..