Fyrir þá sem hafa velt því fyrir sér þá er þetta minn húmor :)

LETTER FROM A FARM KID, NOW AT SAN DIEGO MARINE CORPS RECRUIT DEPOT.

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 maybe all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but am getting 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 till 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 Capt. 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 weighs near 300 pounds dry.

Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this set up and come stampeding in.

Guess I best be goin'.




Your loving daughter,


Gail.


Núna eru fjórir dagar í fríið, aðeins morgundagurinn og mánudagurinn eftir í innstimplaðri vinnu og allt að klárast sem varð að klárast ... lífið er ljúft og ég er búin að láta klippa mig ofsalega fínt því klippi- og ofurkonan hún Olga er byrjuð að klippa aftur!! :)

Núna er ég sem sagt hrikalega sæt en til að fyrirbyggja allan misskilning þá var ég ekki að klippa mig til að höstla í fríinu (algengur og útbreiddur misskilningur af einhverjum ástæðum?) heldur vegna þess að mig langaði til að finnast ég vera "viljandi":) það er frekar erfitt að útskýra afhverju mér finnst ég stundum ekki vera viljandi þannig að ég segi ykkur bara að hugsa málið og spyrja ef þið skiljið mig alls ekki:)

Góðar stundir OG lifið heil