EDITOR’S NOTE: In and effort to entertain the newsroom, another photographer and I (who are now required to work in separate offices) have begun exchanging letters from the frontline of the Coronavirus Pandemic. I share them with you so that you may feel the love.
My Dearest Mr. Daquano,
Your last epistle brightened my spirits tremendously. I am greatly comforted knowing that you will continue to broaden your vocabulary in my absence.
The troops of Forward Operating Base Frat House are in the doldrums, today. Boot Duhe left the remnants of yesterday’s pie uncovered last night. This morning, Lance Corporal Houston found the largest cockroach I have ever seen perched atop a dollop of whipped cream, almost daring the Lance to knock him off.
So large a creature was he, that the terrified Boot Duhe made haste to exit the Mess Hall as if his hair were set ablaze.
Thankfully, in his tryptophan-induced stupor, the vile creature was too slow and dispatched with great ease. The cockroach, that is, not LCpl Houston.
The drudgery of FOB life has set in. Tonight, we plan a covert action against Captain Crank’s liquor cabinet. I cannot get into the specifics of the operation, but suffice it to say it involves a coupon and a crooked hat.
Until next I lay eyes upon you, I remain most sincerely yours,
Sargent T. Polisher
1st News Division
9th Batqallion.
Rick Is Not Writing . . . again 