Rescue the astronauts, find the microfilm, and then save Space-o the Wonder Dog.
To whom it may concern,
I was reliably informed on signing on to the dotted line that I'd be issued with an insane looking outfit and have a private bar. Instead I seem to be been assigned to an insane outfit as a private with a BAR. I shall assume this is a mistake, and await compensation, as soon as I can find where the spa is. Additionally, I have had my straighteners confiscated, an appalling situation I trust will be rectified before this humidity gets any worse.
Yours,
Karen Hosepipe, Pvt USMC
Hey dad, Rhonda here. Hope you guys are well - it's always so hard to find time to write, but I've managed to catch a few minutes of peace to get my thoughts in order and onto the page.
The last few weeks have been tough - we've recently moved to a new home which has a lot more mud and sandbags than the last one. There's been a load of rain and that means plenty of digging and building. I'm fitter than I've ever been in my life; humping a 30cal and all these tools in this terrain and climate ain't easy, but I've got a hell of a team and they depend on my buddy Goat and I to be there to lay down the cover when things get rough.
We've been doing a bunch of SAR missions - not sure I can say much more than that, but it's a hell of a thing when you bring someone home safely. Saving a life in the middle of all this horror and death? Means a lot. More than I'd ever have realised.
There's a whole bunch of things you said before I left that I understand now. I've got so much I want to say to you, but I can never find the words - and I'm already running out of time before we're next out. Not long until I'm home - counting the days. We need to catch up over a beer or five.
I gotta go - we're about to head out. We'll talk more when I'm back. Look after mom and tell her I love her, ok?
Rhonda