Letter from the Other

My dearest Polly,
It has been a hard time, here in Korea. You can’t tell the enemy from your allies. We lost Kimbo and Burkhart last week. They stumbled into a minefield.

Thoughts of you keep me going in the dark times. The Colonel especially enjoyed the stockings you sent. I am sure you meant to send them to me, but had accidentally addressed them to him. It didn’t feel right to insist he give them to me. He asked that you send a size bigger as they didn’t quite fit.

The cookies you sent to Lieutenant Markham were also much appreciated. He shared them with the other officers in the Mess Hall. Us enlisted men were hoping there would be enough for us too. Maybe you can send a few extras so that we can taste your lovely cooking as well.

I know you told me last time that the car was making some odd noises. Don’t take it to Mikey in the High street. He’ll scam you. Take it the Steve in Raymondville. Tell him that you know me and he’ll give you a good deal.

I know you are a strong and independent woman, but I need to know that there is still a place for me in your life and heart. Some of the men have taken local “girlfriends” and I want to assure you that you never have to worry about me, straying. I tried to speak to the chaplain about this very problem, but his secretary said he was very busy attending to his local flock. I’ll try again tomorrow.

We had a visit from a general, yesterday. It was General Stoneman. He sends his regards and hopes that you got the present he sent. That was very thoughtful of him. I didn’t know he took such interest in the home lives of his enlisted men. He seems a good, strong leader. And he is confident that we’ll be going home by Christmas. We can only hope the enemy agree to such a timeline. They haven’t been very agreeable thus far.

I had a letter from Mother recently. She says that you are not letting my absence get you down. She has seen you out at many clubs and restaurants these several months. I am glad you are keeping your spirits up. The last thing you need to do is make yourself sick with worry. Keep your mind off the dangers that I face every day. Dance with the men in the clubs. Laugh and be merry. I will love you and I will see you when I get home. And I know in my deepest heart that you will love me and care for me, no matter the condition that I return to you in. If I return to you missing limbs, I know you will stay by my side. If I return to you a gibbering wreck, you will care for me. If I come home and cannot work for the rest of my life, I know that you will take up the reins to provide for me and all the children I know you want.

 

My dearest Polly, I will write again soon.

My eternal love and devotion

Eustace

  

P.S. Enclosed is the half my pay that you said needed for living expenses. I hope it is enough for you to purchase the items you need.

In which we learn about Morris Dancing...

Hullo there my slightly ruffled sea penguin,  

I am writing to you today from the depths of hell that is known as Sussex.

There was a group of young people today Morris Dancing in the street. Mrs Quigley fainted from the shock of it.She hasn't been the same since her dog, Bernie, died last year. Everything frays her frazzled nerves. The poor thing.

 

I went to the chip shop at lunch and there was a great man-beast behind the counter. I did wonder how he made the chips without getting any of the phenomenal amounts of hair on his body in the boiling oil. I watched him closely as he made my chips for signs of follicle fallings. 

Let me tell you, my ponderous manatee, last week was a rather interesting week as well. Well, to begin with there was a mishap with my mail. I was sent a parcel meant for the rather delectable lady next door. I did the chivalrous thing and took it took her. When she answered the door she was in nothing but a negligee and slippers! Well, I can tell you that I was quite shocked at her state of undress. She asked me in for tea to say thank you for being a gentleman.

The things I learned from that woman.

Did you know she is very well versed in the various geopolitical aspects of the European Continent? I learned things about politics that I never knew before. And she makes a lovely scone, if I do say so myself. 

I heard from Mother that you are taking up the Flugel Horn this semester at University. I commend your sense of ambition, but also wish to counsel you on the fact that it is perfectly alright to fail. You do not need to be expert in every endeavour that you undertake. Just look at Uncle Marty, he is a great failure and he is just as happy as Cousin Gregory, who passed the Bar and is a highly successful lawyer.

I am so proud of you, my little sweet smelling lizard; you are off, making your way in the world. Making a difference to those you meet. You’re changing the world for the better. Just remember us, my contentious staple gun, back here in the old house, watching as you set the world on fire.

Do you remember your cousin, Gerald? Well, I just had word from your Aunt Livinia’s brother’s cousin’s ex-roommate that he had started his business in textiles and ended up being a drug mule for the Yakuza! Did you ever hear such a thing? I always knew that boy would come to a bad end. He always was trouble, that one. Not like you. Your Great Uncle Augustus, bless his soul, would be so proud of you and your candle making.

Well, the day is getting on, my Pantalooned Regimental Soldier, and I simply must take this devilled ham to Mrs Marjory across the way. Her piles are acting up again.

Give my love to Sookie.
I will write again soon.

Your ever loving Uncle,
Eustace Dalrymple