Hello All,

Well, it seems my old friend General Winter has arrived on the Iceberg (aka Ft. Mc Coy). For those of you not familiar with the General, he's most famous for his appearance at Stalingrad in 1943. Back in the day, (Before My Time) the Nazi’s surrounded the Russian Army at Stalingrad. The situation was desperate, but the Russians were unconcerned, for General Winter, is a ally for all those accustomed to cold, ice and pain (see Russians). The Nazi Army (failing to study the history and climate of their adversary, DOH!) were unaware of the General and his capabilities. As such, the general showed up, blew their little fascist house down, and forced the German Army to tuck it's proverbial tail between it's legs.

So much for history (I know you all don't care, but I'm going somewhere with this), on to the present. General Winter has paid us all a visit here in balmy Wisconsin. Now, you may ask, how bad can the General be? He helped defeat those Nazi fascist jerk-off's, didn't he? Well, yes, he did. However, the General is an Equal Opportunity Ass Kicker. He cares little of what uniform you wear, only that you're a soldier with an important job to do.

Now, the first casualty of the General is morale. The weekend was pretty nice (for Wisconsin, not Texas) and the troops had secured their snivel (see COLD WEATHER) gear in hopes of an early spring. OH NO THEY DIDN'T, oh yes they did. The second casualty was the Hot Water in our barracks. The Third casualty was the Furnace. The fourth causalities (I know this isn't quite grammatically correct, but you're gonna have to cut me a little slack, I'm on a schedule) were our vehicles that had frozen batteries and jellied fuel lines (this is NOT the Happy Joy Fun Time, I'm getting there). The General has NOT yet kicked our collective asses yet, but he's setting up the coup de gracie, right now.

And now for the Happy Joy Fun Time. Yesterday, at around 1430 (2:30pm for you civilian types) I was sitting in on the leaders meeting (a generally dismal affair, where the powers that be, whoever they are, tell us what's going to happen next), because my Platoon Sergeant was fetching a new trooper from the airport, my presence was required. At this time, I was informed that we have received a port date. What's a port date? Well, let me tell you. All of our trucks need to travel on a ship to our destination (still classified, can't tell), and a port date is the day that our equipment needs to be at the port (can't tell you that either, classified). Well, you've probably already guessed that Wisconsin is NOWHERE near an ocean port (surprise, GO ARMY!), so we need to get all of our equipment onto railroad flatbeds. No problem, we've done that before and we rock at it. But this time EVERYTHING needs to go. And we have 48 hours to do it. That's 2 days. Everything. Nothing gets left beihind. Happy, Joy, Fun, Time. The General's timing is exquisite. And that's why I hate him.

Right now I'm on a break, because this computer is probably going to be loaded onto a truck within the hour. Does this mean the end of our Hero's enlightening rants? NO, you're not that lucky. HA! You thought that would end. I will secure other forms of communication: snail main, carrier pigeons, thrown rocks with paper tied to them, ect.

All is going well for now, but that's mostly because my good friend, Mr. Sun, is still on our side. However, he's working a Union Shop, and gets off work in about 5 1/2 hours. That's when the General is going to make his move. He's waiting, and we're working. I'd like to say that we can beat him and be finished before Mr. Sun leaves us, but I know that isn’t very possible. Be not afraid, my dear readers. We have unpacked our snivel gear, and will prevail. We are soldiers, and as I've said in earlier mail (see Rants), we are made to endure. Thank god this isn't Bastogne, 1944. At least we have snivel gear. They didn't.

Keep the faith. We will. Enjoy you’re warm houses and places of employment. I’m beginning to miss you all (and your warm buildings) very much.

Love,

Will

PS If I ever find that General, I'm going to put a bullet in his head, and two in his chest. Bastard.