A Tough Country Kid Wrote Home Claiming Marine Boot Camp Was a Total Vacation—But the Final Line Changes Everything
Dear Ma and Pa,
I am doing well out here, and I hope you two are doing well, too. Please tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer that the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a country mile! Tell them they need to join up quick before all the open spots are completely filled.
I was a bit restless at first because they actually let you stay in bed until nearly 5:00 a.m. But I’m slowly getting used to sleeping in late like this. Tell Walt and Elmer that all you have to do before breakfast is smooth down your cot and shine a few things. There are no hogs to slop, no feed to pitch, no mash to mix, no wood to split, and no fires to lay. It’s practically nothing at all!
The men have to shave every morning, but it’s not half bad since they provide warm water. Breakfast is a bit heavy on the fancy trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, and bacon, but it’s kind of weak on real food—there are no pork chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, or pie. But tell Walt and Elmer they can always do what I do: just sit next to the two city boys who live entirely on coffee. Their untouched food, plus mine, holds me over perfectly until noon, when they feed us all over again. It’s honestly no wonder those city boys can’t walk very far.
We go on things called “route marches,” which the platoon sergeant claims are long, grueling walks meant to harden us up. If he honestly thinks so, it’s not my place to tell him any different. To be frank, a “route march” is only about as far as the walk to our mailbox back home. After just a little bit of walking, the city guys get sore feet and we all get to ride back to base in trucks!
The sergeant is a lot like a nagging schoolteacher. The Captain is like the school board. The majors and colonels just ride around in vehicles and frown a lot, but they don’t bother you none.
This next part will absolutely kill Walt and Elmer with laughing: I keep getting medals for my shooting! I don’t even know why. The bulls-eye target is almost as big as a chipmunk’s head, it stands completely still, and it ain’t even shooting back at you like the Higgett boys do at home. All you have to do is lie down comfortably and hit it. You don’t even have to load your own cartridges; they come neatly packed in boxes.
Then we have what they call “hand-to-hand combat training.” You basically just get to wrestle with those city boys. I have to be real careful with them, though, because they seem to break real easy. It ain’t nothing like trying to handle that angry old bull back on the farm. I’m about the best they’ve got in the whole platoon, except for Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. I’ve only managed to beat him once. He joined up at the same time as me, but I’m only 5’6″ and 130 pounds, while he’s 6’8″ and near 300 pounds dry.
Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry up and enlist before the other fellers catch onto this sweet setup and come stampeding in!
Your loving daughter,
Alice
