Today me and my fellow soldier were talking. His name is Josh Lesert. I've made some friends here in the army, but I think I've found my new best friend.
Josh: Did you see that newspaper article?
Me: Which one? There's been so many I don't know how to keep track of the real world.
Josh: Well, get this. They called us kid glove boys! Can you believe that? You wanna now what I think of that?
Me: I know what I think. Those are some tight, wallpapered idiots. Man I am fit to be tied.
Josh: I know there are some wimpy soldiers out here, but us in the military, we got guts and glory. We're more chief cooked and bottle washed than they will ever be.
Me: They think they are top rail #1, maybe they should try eating the sheet iron crackers we have to.
Josh: They've got a very low horse sense level.
Me: I'd laugh at the thought of them being the fresh fish, see how long they would last.
Josh: Or even see them around hornets.
Josh: They sure are causing anger here in the camps.
Me: They probably got filthy rich sawbone daddys.
Josh: Hunkey dorey for them, uppity little boys.
Me: Do you miss home?
Josh: You mean when after dinner I'd have a filled bread basket and being comfortable wasn't as scarce as a hen's teeth? Well that would be a yes.
Me: Every Sunday we'd eat goobers and run around.
Josh: But we just got to think that we'll see them again. We've got it as a hard case.
Me: I'm played out from today's drilling.
Josh: But I feel fit as a fiddle!
Me: Haha well at least there is an upside!
Josh: We sure have been through the mill.
Me: Ain't no bluffs aloud here.
Josh: Or tar water addicts.
Me: Ha-ha. You know Josh, we should be possums.
Josh: I think so too.
It feels good to have a best friend here at war with me. I know he'll have my back. He helps me feel less alone, and I'm grateful I met him. Thank you, God.