Dearest Martha,
You have been extremely forthright in demanding my honesty and have all but threatened physical harm if I dare to hold anything back, so, while it kills me to add 
one bit of worry to your sweet little heart, I will honor your request and tell you about my day—the day that was nearly my last. As my life flashed before my eyes, I thought only of you and the way you ***REDACTED*** with your ***REDACTED*** and that one time when we ***REDACTED*** over and over again in my ***REDACTED*** with the ***REDACTED*** that we bought in that interesting store we found in the city.
This morning started out like any other—the grass was still damp from the previous night’s storm and the temperature was a moderately warm 70 degrees. We gathered together as we always do. I reminded the troops that they were responsible for their own safety. (This is important, because, despite the fact that I would have wonderful legal representation, I would prefer to avoid an unnecessary lawsuit.) And, after joining in prayer to the Almighty, we left our post to prepare for our morning mission. The men and I took a brief jaunt around the perimeter and returned to a circle formation for our daily calisthenics—15x side straddle hops, 16x through the tunnel (I may have lost count, just say’n!), 10x little baby arm circles, 10x reverse LBC’s and then 10x overhead claps. When we were sufficiently prepared for whatever the day may bring, we were divided into two separate squads and sent on our way.
I along with All 9’s, Grave Digger, Slum Lord (Respect), Free Bird, Cramps, Mercy Rule, and Wild Hog were assigned to Alpha Squad. We picked up supplies from the place known as “the block pile,” and began an assault on Northwest field. While one soldier would fire a cannon and attempt to make it through the field of bases unscathed, the rest would work diligently (well, somewhat diligently) try to strengthen our forces with curls for the girls, kettlebell swings and overhead presses. We launched approximately five cannons, but, as our enemy was well defended, our assault was quickly dispelled, and we were placed on the defensive end.
Martha, we had been there for mere moments when, seemingly out of nowhere, glowing spheres began raining down on us from the sky. Sadly, our missile defense system was not what it should’ve been, and the bombs continually splashed to the ground and the enemy easily invaded our position again and again—reminiscent of when I invaded your ***REDACTED*** at your parents’ house. The bombing seemed to last an eternity, and our only logical reaction was to fall to the ground, push ourselves up, and spring to our feet 2 times for every time a base that was
taken within the fortress. Finally, we were able to put a halt to the opposing assault and began to return fire. This time, however, we decided to gain strength between shots by doing merkins, squats and Bobby Hurleys (a maneuver named for a ***REDACTED*** basketball player who played for those ***REDACTED*** Duke Blue Devils). Again, our assault was quickly dispelled, and we, once again, found ourselves receiving enemy fire. During this exchange, yours truly was able to take out one of the invaders, but, sadly, I neglected to realize that another enemy combatant was making his way through our bases. Luckily, we were able to end the assault before taking too much damage and were able to return fire once again. At this point Iron Mary came in as a reinforcement to our badly beaten squad as we held plank, high and low and took our perch on the people’s chair.
This back and forth went on and on for nearly 45 minutes. But then, as the sunrise broke through the gloom, we realized we were actually exchanging missile fire with our own Bravo Squad—. Due to a royal cluster ***REDACTED*** of miscommunication, we nearly lost an entire battalion! Darling Martha, war is hard enough when fighting against our unrelenting enemy. We cannot afford to fight against ourselves! Thanks to the Good Lord, however, we all returned to base relatively unscathed (although, admittedly, Alpha Squad’s pride was hurt a bit). At any rate, my dear, I am fine, and will continue to fight the good fight knowing you and your amazing ***REDACTED*** are waiting for me back home.
Yours Forever,
Irrev
P.S. Please help me to remember to bring money this Thursday to help fund Lake Day which happens this Saturday at All 9’s barracks. It promises to be a fun time! Also, keep Baconator and Slum Lord’s aunt in your prayers as they are in need of God’s healing hand.