Dear Gerald Fitzgerald,
I know you will see my name on this letter and throw it away, and I know you hate me for no reason, but I still have decided to write to you. My life is hard, even though some others' are harder... I have to cook, and prepare all the food for my company. The drills and marches are tiring, with a 10 pound drum for miles. Sleep is the only way to relax... how about you?
From, Thomas Fitzgerald