Well things on the front aren't going so good. At least that's how I call it when the Commander does a whole lot of screaming and pleading for help before sending us out on these assault-recon-suicide missions. We seem to get a new sarge after each mission. Sometimes we're lucky and we have some part of him left to mail back to his family.
There are moments where things are so peaceful and quite I can forget about the war. I can remember the good old days, before the Clan Wars flaired up. When everything was green, colorful and smelled of fresh wildflower. A stark contrast to the uniform ash-black of everything. And that ever-present smell of burnt plastic. That never come out of your clothes, no matter how much you wash. During those quite moments, I can almost taste Grandma's homemade biscuits. That usually when an ambush happens and we loose another sarge. I really have to stay more focused.
Things aren't always running and screaming (although we do a real lot of that). Why just last month, I got picked for a madatory voluntary transfer to Reactor Disposal. Those guys are always shorthanded. They gave me a funny suit and a Rad-Indicator badge that must have been broken. It was buzzing like crazy from the moment I got off the transport. A few days of moving core components and i was beat. It didn't help that thier food also must have made me sick. I think I threw up for days!
I got back to my unit to find we had a new sarge (surpise, surprise). Actually, the unit had six new sarge's since I left. Almost a record for the month. Remember that guy Billy Waxler I wrote about a month back? He and his squad (and the last sarge) were all vaporized in a skirmish. I think Waxler's family got his thumb.
The new sarge was yelling at us; telling us we're all stupid and need to keep our distance from it. He must have punched something while shouting at us, because the EPD made an awful noise and the sarge pooped himself right before he puffed out of existance. It was sort of funny, because we didn't know him at all.
If we go through two more sarge's before month end, we'll beat Echo company's record.
Anyway, I can hear the Incoming raid siren, so I should probably go. I keep dreaming about Grandma's biscuits. Could you send me some? And soon. Things aren't going so good.
Love,
Your Son
No one, in thier right mind would think of this as offical anything other than a waste of internet space. Seriously, if you've gotten this far, you might want to step back and smell the roses sometime. You are one tricked out freakizoid.
Groove on, you crazy diamond.
