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Richard Shaner, a former Marine himself, sends along this: For those who love it when a new recruit writes home to family, the following is a wonderful heartfelt story for anyone who has ever known a Marine, sent home to the mountains of Tennessee from the Marine recruit training depot in San Diego

I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer that the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled. I was restless at first, because you get to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m. But I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer that all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, or fire to lay. Practically nothing. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, and the like, but kinda weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie, and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food, plus yours, holds you until noon, when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much. We go on 'route marches', which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it's not my place to tell him different. A 'route march' is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks. The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none. This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing:. I keep getting medals for shooting, I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk's head, and don't move none, and it ain't shooting at you like the Higgett boys back home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes. Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though; they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this, except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I'm only 5'6' and 130 pounds and he's 6'8' and near 300 pounds dry. Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in. Your loving daughter, Alice