Sunday, June 14, 2009

War Letters: Part 10

January 27, 1991

Somewhere in the desert near Kabrit, Saudi Arabia

Dear Lynda:

Hello beloved! How are ya doin’? I’m still fine. Not much going on around here right now. Just thought I’d drop you a quick note.

Sgt. Joe Stratton got a letter from his wife yesterday saying that she heard we were being issued condoms for our use with the local prostitutes. I can tell you right now that the story is freakin’ crazy! We aren’t even close to any women. I haven’t seen any, except for a woman reporter. I hear that there’s a woman Marine or two around here somewhere, but I haven’t even seen them yet.

So…in case you’re worried about my carousing with whores, please don’t even think about it. You should know that I don’t and wouldn’t do such a thing, and, as far as I know, no one else has either! Enough about that…

The Armed Forces Radio and Television Network, we call it “AFARTS,” played “Chances Are” a couple of day ago while I was on phone watch duty. I nearly dropped to the floor. That song reminded me of such good times that I just had to put my book down and smile! (This song was our “First Dance” song at our wedding reception.)



The food around here has been lousy as usual. We were even out of water for a day and a half, but it’s been raining quite a bit, so it wasn’t hot and we weren’t drinking a lot anyway. I hope they get the water situation fixed before it starts getting unbearably hot out here. They say when it’s hot we must drink umpteen gallons of water a day.

I got some pictures from Mom yesterday of their Christmas. The photos showed all around the table and Monica (my niece). They also showed their massive beef roast. It made my mouth water. They were good pictures. I really miss them all.

It’s starting to get dark here…almost time for chow. I wonder what delicacies are in store for us this evening? You can bet your butt there will be some sort of rice. We always get rice. I don’t care if I ever have rice again once I get home.

Please try to keep everybody informed…especially Mom. In her letter, she sounded like she’s worrying herself to the point of an ulcer. I don’t want to have to be overly concerned about her as well. Try to stay upbeat and positive when you talk to her.

Well baby…think I’ll go for now. The Super Bowl will be on the radio at about 3am. I hope to catch some of it. Take care of yourself, and I’ll do the same.

Loving you and thinking of you more than ever! Beat up the cat for me!

Love you!

Semper Fidelis!

Paul

No comments:

Post a Comment

Feel free to comment away with your bad-ass selves.

Cursing and foul language is fine...even encouraged here. In fact, I think cussing is fucking wonderful.

Just remember...this is MY house, and I will not be insulted or maliciously messed with here.

Good-natured ribbing is cool, but if you and I don't have some kind of previous relationship, you had best mind your fucking manners or I will relegate you to the intardnets dustbin for being a cunt.

To know me is to love me.

Or something.

Maybe.