Cpt. Chen
32
nd Company, 2
nd division, Loyalist Forces
Dear Sir:
I hope my boy isn’t causing you too much trouble. I know he’s lazy and immature,
but I’m sure you’ll beat that obnoxious streak right out of him. It seems
impossible that anyone could make a real man out of him, but maybe the army can
do it. Remember not to coddle him! If he complains about blisters or heat
exhaustion or dehydration or a stomach ache or a broken wrist or any other
minor ailment, just ignore him. He whines a lot.
But can you please check and make sure he eats his vegetables? I’m afraid he’ll
be so homesick he’ll lose his appetite. You might need to get his messmates
together and have them force food down his throat. Remember the stewed turnips!
He claims to hate them, but I know they’re secretly his favorite food.
Now, for the reason I’m writing: I’m concerned about his embarrassing habit.
I so hate to embarrass my son, but I feel
that national security is more important. I don’t want the deaths of his
comrades upon my conscience, and he’s so sensitive, he might neglect to mention
it.
He’s always been a sleepwalker. Once, on a camping trip, he started trying to
climb a mountain in the dark in only his underwear. When his buddies tried to
wake him up, he freaked out and started fighting them. They were lucky to
restrain him before anyone suffered a serious fall. That was frightening, of
course, but it was really weird how he yodeled the entire time.
What if he did something similar near enemy lines?
Probably the best thing you could do with him would be to re-assign him to a
support position deep behind the lines. Maybe if he were put in on latrine duty?
That would be a good job for someone of his limited intellectual abilities. If
you must keep in with the forward infantry, may I respectfully suggest you put
a leash on him and gag him at night?
I hope I can count on your discretion about all this. Whatever you do, please
don’t show this letter to his buddies. I would hate for him to get teased about
all this.
Thanks for your time and attention.
Sincerely,
Mei Ling Chiang
Dear Mother,
That letter was extremely embarrasing. [sic]
And Captain Chen took it seriously! I was lucky to convince him not to transfer
me to the 17th company. Also, the captian’s [sic]
second-in-command/assistant saw your letter and decided to tell his freidns
[sic] that embarrasing [sic] story about me climbing a mountain in my
underwear. His freinds [sic] told their freinds [sic], and soon the entire
COMPANY knew a garbled and far more embarrasing [sic] version of the story.
A few days later, the second-in-command resigned. He said he couldn’t bear the
guilt of having told such an embarrassing story. I might have been promoted to
replace him, but the captain didn’t want a complainer as his second-in-command.
And that’s what he thougt [sic] I was, having read your letter. So instead of me,
some guy named Ming got the position.
You’ve ruined my career. I might recover, but not while you
send embarrassing letters. So try to be more tactful next time. And please,
THINK IT THROUGH before you send another letter!
Your humiliated son
P.S. You never said how to make up. Also your letter was
wrong about a few things. I’ll explain later.
Dear son,
Welcome to the army. I KNEW it would involve hazing and
humiliation. I was just trying to teach you that lesson earlier rather than
later. (Well, I HOPED I would succeed in getting you away from the front lines,
but I knew that was a long shot. Public disgrace was plan B.)
You’re far better off abandoning your delusions now. It’s much better to be a
clear-eyed realist when facing short rations, awful sanitation (and smells),
mayhem, gore, and death. I have done you a favor, in the long run. You’ll thank
me some day.
There’s an old saying: “Eat a raw toad first thing in the morning, and nothing
worse will happen to you the rest of the day.” Of course, your current
embarrassment is nothing compared to siege and starvation, capture and torture,
but I can’t help that. I’ve learned that I’m better off not obsessing about
things I can’t control.
By the way, remember to brush your teeth every day! I don’t want my boy coming
home—assuming you DO come home—with missing teeth. It would make it even harder
for you to find a nice wife, which would make it harder for me to acquire
grandbabies to spoil rotten. I’m trying to be positive, though. Since you’ll
probably come home—assuming you DO come home, alive—missing some other body
parts. A few fingers, a nose, maybe even a leg or two. Compared to that, a few
missing teeth will be nothing.
Still, ANY missing body parts would make it harder for you to find a wife. And
I doubt you’ll meet any nice girls in the army. That’s why I’ve taken the
liberty of beginning negotiations on your behalf now. If we can get some kind
of contract signed, it will be harder for Jun Kwong to wiggle out of the
engagement after you return maimed. You remember Jun Kwong, right? Such a nice
girl. A few years older than you, of course, but still well within child
bearing years! I’m surprised nobody else has expressed an interest in marrying
her; she’s so strong and truthful! She’d be a real worker, someone who could
deliver a baby at noon and be back to helping you with the hay harvest three
hours later. She reminds me a lot of me. SUCH a nice girl.
As to ruining your career, I don’t believe it. You might be promoted to
sergeant without an education, but then you’d hit a dead end. If you wanted to
be an officer, you’d need to finish school.
Now, as to how you can make it up to me that you told embarrassing stories
about me to your tentmates? Are you really that dense? That letter to Captain
Chen was my revenge! How do you expect to get promoted when you have no sense
of strategy or tactics? Oh, right. You expect to get promoted precisely because
you have NO understanding of strategy, or tactics, or realism, or how the world
works. I despair, I really do.
All that effort, and I’m afraid you haven’t even learned your lesson. No wonder
you did so horribly in school, you dolt! Now come home right now and study to
be a doctor!
Your loving mother.
P.S. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST YOUR FATHER???? He may be a ne’er do well
drunken spendthrift who never supported his family or listened to me, but I am
rather attached to him. But I just remembered what my herbalist said about
staying positive and not obsessing about things I can’t control. Deep
breaths. I’m sure it will be fine.
But have you tried looking in all the local bars? Oh, speaking of bars,
remember to practice your ukulele every day. That is, until you lose your first
few fingers.
--MLC
Dear mother,
You have a good point, but it will take a bit more than that
to get me to quit the army.
Also, about Jun Kwong, why on Earth would I want to marry
her? She gave me cooties when I was 7 and again when I was 9. And my best
friend refused to invite me to his birthday party because I had cooties. And
also, when I was 15, my buddies and I pulled a prank on our teacher and Jun
Kwong told on us even after we swore her to secrecy. No way will I marry her.
Another thing. Why do you want grandbabies? You still have 5
kids at home. Besides, I’m a little young to be getting married.
Dear Son,
Well, your father finally dragged himself home. He was in a
state: bedraggled and filthy, with lice swarming through his matted hair. His
arm was in a sling, which helps to explain why he had abandoned all attempts at
personal grooming, but still, I found it very unattractive. He tried to claim
the broken arm was a heroic war wound, but I suspect he was injured in an
inglorious bar brawl. He’s probably AWOL from the army, too, which means soon
enough we’ll have constables here harassing us.
Speaking of unattractive people, I’m so happy to hear that your objections to
Jun Kwong have nothing to do with her appearance. It’s so shallow to judge
people because of things they can’t control, like huge feet and disfiguring
smallpox scars. Sadly, most of the other boys in the village think she’s ugly,
which I find sad. She’s a beautiful person inside, and I’m glad you recognize
that. This is your chance to capitalize on an under-valued asset. (I’ve been
reading up on financial investments. Since your father will never support his
family, it falls to me to provide the cash necessary to get your siblings an
education.)
Now, as to your other objections, I am rolling my eyes. You
know I try not to interfere with your life, but really! If you think you’re old
enough to run away from home, join the army, and –ha!—become an officer, you
ought to be old enough to give up ridiculous notions of cooties. And even if
she did have cooties, you should be man enough to handle it! Your father has
HEAD LICE, but you don’t hear me complaining! I suffer in silence!!!
As to Jun Kwong being a tattletale, I assure you she’s
outgrown that. Be charitable of the mistakes she made in her youth. After all,
do I still hold grudges about all the idiotic things you did when you were that
age? Do I sit at the ladies sewing circle and whine about how, when you were
fourteen, you told your best friend our strategy for the village “capture the
scarf” game, and he betrayed you to his team, and we lost horribly for the
first time in THIRTY YEARS? Do I continue to blame the entire thing on you,
five years later? Of COURSE not. I forgive you for being young and stupid,
because that’s what mature adults do. Besides, Jun Kwong was acting out of
conscience, trying to respect the teacher.
Also, you’re never too young to get married. Just look at
me! I married your father when I was sixteen, and we’re still going strong.
Since you don’t have any substantive objections to Jun
Kwong, I’ve gone ahead with the marriage negotiations. If you came home right
now, you could get married promptly. I could be a gram within a year! In fact,
your child could grow up with his or her aunt or uncle. Because, just between
you and me, I think I will be delivering another sibling for you, in about
eight or nine months. Hopefully THIS time your father will stick around and
deal with his responsibilities.
Love,
Mother
P.S. I hear there was an outbreak of dysentery or cholera or
typhoid or whatever they call it. Something awful involving diarrhea, anyway.
Please be careful in camp and wash your hands scrupulously, especially before
you eat. Of course, if you’d ever paid attention in science class and studied
medicine like I wanted, you’d already know that.
Dear Mother,
I don’t care what you say, but I stubbornly refuse to marry
Jun Kwong.
But anyway, you said you were pregnant. How miserable you
must be. When you were pregnant with my baby sister Rowen, you were vomiting all
over, and it was brutal. That might have been a one-time thing, but I don’t
think so, given what happened with my little brother John. I know you think it
impolite to complain about those things, but it’s fine. Really.
Love,
Richard
P.S. The outbreak was of typhoid. You couldn’t identify it,
but I could, so I’m better than you at medicine. Ha.
Dearest darlingest Richard,
I can see that I pushed too hard about Jun Kwong. I’m sorry
that you felt threatened and emasculated by my harmless suggestion. (But
really, if you weren’t interested, whyever didn’t you just SAY SO in the first
place? You men are so passive aggressive, I despair, I really do.) You know I’m
not the kind to flail the undead horse with nagging. That just causes maggots
to feed on an unhealthy relationship. So we’ll just forget the whole thing.
Also, don’t worry about hurting Jun Kwong’s feelings. I’ve
talked to her – SUCH a nice girl – and she said she understands. She said she’s
“probably happier being alone than married to an immature guy who wastes my
considerable dowry on gambling.” So mature. She would have been delighted to
use her dowry to assist us in our penury (SUCH a nice girl, and so
non-judgmental about your father running off AGAIN), but she appreciated your
honesty and has moved on, so you don’t need to feel guilty about breaking her
heart or abandoning us to abject poverty again. Though, really, it’s actually
easier when your father isn’t around, because then at least he doesn’t waste
the meagre funds I earn from taking in washing.
Now, about typhoid, of COURSE you could identify it better
than I could since you’re on the scene. You probably overheard some of the
field nurses discussing it. Not to say that you couldn’t be a great doctor if
you tried. I’ve been telling you that for years.
Though if you really wanted to be a doctor, you could come
home and take care of your ailing mama. You’re right about this pregnancy being
miserable. I vomit several times a day, and it’s so frustrating. If I’m not
going to keep anything down, I shouldn’t waste it. I should instead parcel out
the nourishment among your younger siblings. But then, I think of the baby, and
I think I should try to eat for its sake. I want it to grow up healthy and
strong like its oldest brother.
Speaking of which, when you put your foot down about Jun
Kwong, I realized that you really are all grown up, mostly. I guess it’s time
to let go and admit you’re an adult and back off. If you MUST be a soldier,
just make sure you’re a really good one. Except don’t go on any insane
berserker charges to the front because you could get killed that way.
Actually, your example of decisiveness has inspired me to
divorce your father. I’m better off without him. It’s not pretty, but it is a
resolution. I’m sorry if this news distracts you from your mission of
patriotism or whatever it is you’re fighting for.
Love,
Mama
P.S. Please forgive any bloodstains on this letter. I’m afraid
my knuckles are raw from all the laundry I’ve been doing. I guess we’ll all
just need to get used to that. You just focus on being the best soldier you can
and don’t worry about us.
P.P.S. I just heard a rumor that you’ve won a
major victory and the war will soon be over.
P.P.P.S. It's true! I'm so relieved! Oh, now you can come home and help out with all the young'uns. Unless you'd rather go to college, of course. I expect there will be a program to help soldiers get through school. There's a very promising medical tech program at the local university...
