Grandpa’s War – Part 11 – Mail Call

I suppose things have changed with cellphones and email out in the field. Except for a phone in the nearby town, there was no easy way to get news from him. So, we lived for mail call.

The most interesting things about mail call was how the mail ran. There was no sequence to it. What I mean is it wasn’t uncommon to get a letter mailed on say January 15th. A few days later, you’d get one mailed January 2nd.

So sometimes you got a letter and felt a little like you’d walked into the middle of a movie. Mom or Dad or whoever might reference something in an earlier letter that hadn’t arrived yet.

Still, we lived for Mail.

Mail arrived and was broken down by platoon. It was the platoon daddies’ job to get the mail, gather the troops around, and pass it out.

It brought not only news from home, but pictures, magazines (reading material was at a premium), and often times, goodies.

The mail was gone through with a fine-tooth comb. There were certain things that just didn’t make it out to us. Alcohol of course was intercepted and either returned or disposed of. And since this was an Islamic country the ban extended to skin magazines. There were no Playboys or Penthouse’s to be had.

Very much aware of this, the artist and author of Doonsbury, Gary Trudeau, took a shot at the censorship. He drew a picture of girl wearing a helmet and posing with an M-16. She was obviously topless but that part of the picture was ripped out.

I thought it was hysterical.

But leave it up to Cpl. Eric (Mac) McArtor to sum it all up by saying, “No Booze. No dope. No babes. What the hell kind of war is this?”

But some stuff did get through. My fondest memories of something that did make it through came from SPC Arnold.

Arnold was descended from a long line of military types. His great grandfather was General ‘Hap’ Arnold, the Father of SAC. It’s safe to say that generals and colonels are a dime a dozen in his family.

I was walking around outside looking at the tent stakes when he approached me.

“Hey, Sgt. Muniz,” he said.

I turned. “Hey, what’s up.”

“I just got a late Christmas present,” he said. “Thought I share my good fortune with you.”

What he’d received was a small package from home. Inside were 10 wax bottles. Those of us that are slightly younger than God might remember them. They were wax bottles that looked like an old Coke bottle. They were maybe two inches long and I remember getting them as a kid. They would be filled with Kool-Aid.

He offered the box to me and I pulled out one with an amber looking fluid. I bit off the top and the small trace amount told me this wasn’t Kool-Aid. The Kool-Aid had been replaced with different kinds of whiskeys and wines.

The bottle I’d selected was filled with peach brandy. And not just any cheap brandy. It was some of the smoothest and finest brandy I’ve ever tasted. It was one of the biggest, most pleasant surprises of the war. Somehow drinking something we weren’t allowed felt good! A little rebellion is a good thing now and again.

Enough can’t be said about the great folks who supported us over there. At least once or twice a week, each of us got a box. rarely was it addressed to us, but to random soldiers. In it might be candy bars, chips, notes, books, magazines and so on. Sometimes there were things we really needed (toothpaste for instance).

For some reason we had trouble getting essentials. We had a small PX that operated out of a truck. While it was well stocked on candy bars, and even film, it lacked some things. Essential items like shaving cream, soap, and so on.

So, what came out of a box was often times a Godsend.

Occasionally, our goodie boxes had some really interesting items. One guy received some girl’s lacy underwear and a proposal of marriage. Another found a box of Trojans. They were useful to keep dirt out of the M-16s.

By far the most interesting thing we received were several copies of the “Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.” They were most definitely a moral booster.

I did my level best to respond to folks who included a return address. It was hard though, and I’m sure I missed some along the way. All I can say is God bless you for your generosity, support, and prayers. They sure weren’t wasted.

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All photographs Copyright – Richard L. Muniz (except for pin up girl)