Dear Mary,
I’ve landed in Baghdad! It looks sort of like Vegas, except with fewer paved streets, and the cocktail waitresses are more likely to give you a knife in the back than a dry martini. They’ve warned us not to wander off the compound, but why would we? There’s a Popeye’s, an ice skating rink and a Krispy Kreme. If it weren’t for the constant gunfire, it would feel just like home. (I know what you’re thinking, but, no, the gunfire at home isn’t constant. I’ll explain the difference when I get back.)
Love,
[REDACTED]
Dear Mary,
[REDACTED] got to interview a prisoner today. Lucky [REDACTED]. [REDACTED] made the guy get naked, put women’s panties on his head and forced him to listen to the soundtrack of Mamma Mia for eight straight hours. By the end of the ordeal, the raghead was blubbering like a baby; he was ready to tell us anything we wanted to hear! Who was behind 9/11? Where are the insurgents hiding? Who kidnapped the [REDACTED] Lindbergh baby! Was the intel we got worth it? Who cares! That’s for Army intelligence to sort out. All I know is, it sounded like a hoot!
I was guarding some [REDACTED] politician. Twelve straight hours of pretending I give a [REDACTED] about some guy who can’t even speak American. I guess that’s why we get paid so much.
Love,
[REDACTED]
Dear Mary,
Okay, NOW it’s a party! (Ya gotta love Vince Vaughan references!)
[REDACTED], [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] got a little drunk and, wearing nothing but clamshells and smiles drank beer out of each other’s [REDACTED]holes! Then, they got some poor schmuck out of a cell and [REDACTED]ed all over him – you should have seen the look on that poor [REDACTED]’s face! I have! – they took pictures!
I…I was on convoy duty, ferrying a shipment of military [REDACTED] from one desert [REDACTED]hole to another. I hope this doesn’t become a trend. [REDACTED] assured me that I would be able to get in on the fun soon. I sure hope so.
Love,
[REDACTED]
Dear Mary,
Aww, man, am I cursed or what?
[REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] have been making a small fortune selling the arms the company has stored at [REDACTED] to [REDACTED] radicals. I mean, they think they’re [REDACTED] radicals. They could be [REDACTED] radicals. Who knows? Who cares! They’re just raking in the bucks. And, here I am, sitting on my [REDACTED], watching the arms depot that they’re plundering!
This war is really starting to blow!
Don’t get me wrong – I get my cut just to look the other way. But, I don’t get to go into [REDACTED], so there’s no chance that I’ll get to see any action. That’s not what I signed up for! I signed up to kick ass and take names! Well, okay, I signed up for the money. But, kicking ass and taking names was a big part of the attraction for me.
Man, what a sucker I must be.
Love,
[REDACTED]
Dear Mary,
Okay, I’ve had just about enough of this [REDACTED].
[REDACTED] and [REDACTED] were out on patrol 15 clicks outside of [REDACTED] when…something happened. They weren’t exactly clear on what started it. But, by the time the shooting was over, over a dozen ragheads were dead. Action, Mary! They saw real military fighting action! Meanwhile, where was I? Stuck at [REDACTED], looking after some military translator. The Army only has six of them, and they want to keep the entire set!
I’m starting to think that [REDACTED] is purposefully keeping me away from the fun stuff. I know it sounds paranoid, but what else could explain how I’m never at the right place at the right time?
No word on who the ragheads were. Somebody suggested that they were civilians. [REDACTED] it – the lawyers can sort that [REDACTED] out. [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] said that finally getting a chance to shoot their guns made everything worth it. Hell, yeah! I didn’t spend six months training at [REDACTED] just to hang out with a [REDACTED] military translator!
You probably aren’t going to believe this – me being so gung-ho about signing up with [REDACTED] and all – but I’m really beginning to understand that war IS hell.
Love,
[REDACTED]