Mother— These words evade me. The Draft Council sent word by telegram that I am to be dispatched to Chicago in immediacy! Rest assured that I will carry our family name with honor & distinction. Your pride is my guiding light. I find myself gone with the Wind to Chicago. —CW

Mother— I marched upon Atlanta expecting Falcons, only to discover pigeons with a generous advertising budget. The Peach Brigade was routed, their feathers scattered and dignity plucked. Let them question my fitness for battle. I question their fitness for war. Yours. —CW

Mother— Sound the trumpets! The Dairy Platoon hath beaten our reserves! Scouts confirm the Frenchman LeFleur reveled with unbridled glee, having found an army sufficiently depleted for him to conquer. Enjoy thy milk whilst it remains sweet. The reckoning shall sour it. —CW

Mother— A giant of the North hath fallen. Gen. Michael Ditka, conqueror of ‘85, led Chicago’s mighty regiment to glory & bestowed upon our city a championship immortal. His name is etched in the annals of war. His banner shall never fall. Rest, General. Chicago remembers. —CW

Mother— The men labored these past few battles and were deserving of some light musement. Mercifully, the New York circus came to town. The aerial acrobats were grounded, the green costumes soiled & their grand spectacle became a comedy. Chicago applauds their effort. —CW

Mother— Grave news from the Philadelphia encampment. Their men arrived boasting of Brotherly Love, yet depart coughing, trembling & unable to look one another in the eye. The medics have reached a diagnosis: A severe Case of the Keenums. There is no known cure. —CW

Mother— Splendid news from Wisconia. The Dairy Platoon hath been penetrated upon their own soil by the a Georgian Peach Brigade. Their leader? A young commander named Penix. Mother, I have been instructed not to make the obvious jest. Green Bay could not handle the Penix. —CW

Mother— The medics have studied the magnetic portraits of my leg & report, to their astonishment, no injury of consequence. Thus, I may lead the troops against those Brotherly Lovers. Tell them to bring their cracked bell west. Chicago shall be waiting when it tolls. —CW

Mother— I write with an unsteady hand. As I charged toward the enemy’s final line, victory within sight, my right leg betrayed me and I fell upon the field. The doctors know not yet the extent of the injury but pray it is but a flesh wound. There is still a war to be won. —CW

Mother— The Vikings descend from their 10,000 puddles and march upon Soldier Field, dressed as Norse conquerors with no conquest to their name. They bring tin horns, purple garments & the confidence of men unfamiliar with glory. By sundown, their horns shall fall silent. —CW

Mother— Victory in Carolina! Though I confess, there was little left to plunder. Major Poles raided these lands years ago, departing with their finest provisions, claims upon their future & that which would deliver me unto Chicago. Today, we merely returned for the pelts. —CW

Chicago— Come forth from hibernation! The long wait is over, the drums sound anew & our unit marches upon Carolina! Let every man of the North answer the summons, for whatever last winter took from us, let this autumn return. Panthers make fine pelts for Northern winters. —CW

Lt. Denniston Moore— It aches the bosom that you have been relieved of duty. The last two annums have been filled with joy & despair. They will sing songs of our victories against the Dairy Platoon and our heroics in ballistic maneuvers. You remain written in my story. —CW

Mother— We have lost the battle, but the war will wage as long as I manage this post of Chicago. Defeat may visit us, but it shall not remain. This too shall pass. —CW

Mother— Scouts report from the Navy Patrol that the Dairy Platoon were last seen fleeing to the territory south of the Alamo, known as Cancun. It is in their fortune for they will not find any ice in that region. Alas, they will melt in their own misery. Yours in victory. —CW

Mother— Victory hath been secured! The antidotes distributed to the public for lactase in the water supply proved vital in the waning moments. A civilian secured a dairy-shredding device amidst the height of battle. The knees of the enemy are bent. Good. Better. Best. —CW

Mother— I write by candlelight as the Dairy Platoon stirs. They begin to march and by morrow’s night will press upon our soil. The flame’s flicker throws shadows upon the barracks; the men stand solemn behind the quiet faith of our civilians. Dost thou believe in Monsters? —CW

Mother— Word comes from the Northern Frontier that the cow bosoms have dried from exploitation, leaving Wisconsin dairy farms barren. The taxes will be amassed into our coffers & the Reserve Bank pledges improved muskets and rifles for my sidearm. We have taken the North. —CW

Mother— With bated breathe, our troops arrived at the gates of destiny. The Dairy Platoon was stifled as our unit was armed with lactase pills. As the last of the candlelight flickered, Lt. Moore recovered the aerial ballistic. The Frenchman, LaFleur, bent his knee. Yours. —CW

Mother— Many a men pledge fealty to the Dogwalkers of Cleve's Land by pinning hopes on a prince yet unproven. Onward we march to to hold the north against the Dairy Platoon. Fear not, our apothecaries prepare Lactase pills. I shall take my dayrest under the Sun's light. —CW

Mother— Philly hath fallen! Our ground assault broke the ranks of the Cheesesteak Militia with their muskets scattered like cheap bread in a losing wind. Let them squawk; by dawn my nailpolish shall be Kelly green, that they might recognize the color of their own undoing. —CW