Joining the Marines as a Farm Kid I’m doing fine, dear Ma and Pa. I hope you are. Inform Brothers Walt and Elmer that serving in the Marine Corps is far superior to working for Old Man Minch. Encourage them to sign up as soon as possible before all the spots are taken.
You get to stay in bed until almost five in the morning, which first made me restless. But I like to sleep late because I’m getting older. Inform Walt and Elmer that all you did before breakfast was to shine a few items and straighten your cot. No hogs to slop, fire to lay, wood to split, mash to mix, or feed to pitch. Almost nothing.
Men have to shave, but it’s not too bad because the water is warm. Tell Walt and Elmer that you can always sit beside the two city boys who live on coffee, but breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie, and other everyday fare. You are sustained by their food and yours until midday, when you are fed once more. These metropolitan boys’ limited walking ability is understandable.
According to the platoon sergeant, our “route marches” are lengthy excursions meant to fortify us. I have no right to tell him otherwise if that’s what he believes. The distance to our mailbox at home is roughly equal to a “route march.” We all ride back in trucks after the city guys grow tired.
The sergeant resembles a teacher. He constantly bothers me. Similar to the school board is the captain. Majors and colonels merely frown while riding around. You’re not bothered by them at all. Walt and Elmer will die laughing at this next.
I continue to receive medals for my shooting. I have no idea why. Unlike the Higgett brothers at home, the bulls-eye is stationary and nearly as large as a chipmunk’s head. All you need to do is hit it while lying comfortably. Even loading your own cartridges is not something you do. They are packaged in boxes.
After that, there is what is known as hand-to-hand combat training. They’re city boys, and you get to wrestle them. However, I must exercise extreme caution because they shatter easily. Fighting with that old bull at home isn’t the same as this. With the exception of that Tug Jordan from Silver Lake, I’m pretty much the finest they have in this.
I just gave him one beating. He joined at the same time as me, but he’s 6’8″ and almost 300 pounds dry, while I’m only 5’6″ and 130 pounds.
Before other guys jump on this arrangement and rush in, make sure to encourage Walt and Elmer to hurry and participate.
Your devoted daughter,
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