Plucky Letters to US soldiers in Iraq

August 25, 2003


Dear Captain S.,

My son, who shall remain nameless due to the fact that he DOES NOT want me to write to you, mentioned that if you had my email address you might send me some photos. That would be great.

The Son Who Shall Remain Nameless keeps writing, "DON’T WRITE TO ANYONE OVER HERE BUT ME!" Do you think he’s been stricken with chronic paranoia? I mean, it’s not as if I were giving you detailed summaries of the more embarrassing moments in his life or anything.

Far be it from me to mention the time he came home from 5th grade all upset and, when I asked why, announced “Katie dumped me- right on the bus!” I never wrote to you that his kindergarten teacher told me, in a grave and serious tone, that he often colored outside the lines. (an early sign of a potentially subversive personality, or so I was told.) I haven’t ever revealed anything personal about The Son Who Shall Remain Nameless at all, have I? Of course not!

Well, you and I both know I am innocent, but it still might be best if you not mention this letter. After all, he may one day be in a position to put me in a nursing home and I would prefer it not be too wretched.

His letters often say that “shit rolls downhill” in the Army, and he seems to be poised at the bottom of a steep incline. (I’d suggest that leaders who shit downhill end up with a group of shitty followers, but I’m sure you’ve already heard that one.)

If you have the time, I would love some photos from your collection. I promise not to deluge you with any unwanted email and I will not give out your email address to anybody. (You really have no reason to believe that, but you should anyway. I am a harmless, undemanding, and friendly pen-pal.) If you are not inclined to receive any more correspondence from me, just don’t answer.

Actually, maybe you’d better answer saying, “I don’t want any more correspondence from you.” Else I might just assume you are too busy to worry about it, which you probably are.

Just to show you that my heart is in the right place, I will enclose a recent diatribe about our family trip to Branson, Missouri. (it was educational.)

I hope that you are well and in good spirits and that you will refrain from telling The Son Who Shall Remain Nameless anything about this letter lest he park my Depends-swaddled butt in a really smelly old folks home immediately upon his triumphant return to the world.

Hey, I just thought of a great Depends UndergarmentTM commercial! :

A retired Army officer comes on the screen saying,
“In the Army, shit always rolled downhill.”
[He pauses a moment while his credentials are displayed on the screen.]
“Then came Iraqi Freedom and Depends.”
[Film clip of soldiers lobbing loaded diapers at enemy, who scream and fall back in terror. Back to retired officer.]
“Depends. The first weapon of mass excretion, and the best line of defense.”
[Fade to American flag flying over devastated diaper-bombed terrorist training camp.]
Voice over: “Depends Adult Undergarments. We DON'T wear them on our heads.”


Just makes you want to rush right out and buy a case of adult diapers, doesn’t it? Makes you feel darnright PROUD to poop your American pants!

I'd better sign off here before I give forth too much and cause you to reprimand The Son Who Shall Remain Nameless. (Remember, he is a hapless bystander and is in NO WAY responsible for his mother’s degeneracy.)

Much Love and Support,

--An Army Mom