Letters from a soldier fighting the War on Woke

Humor by Sachin Singh
March 3, 2024, 9:01 p.m.

Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine, and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.

Dear Mother,

I hope you are keeping well. I am writing to inform you of the situation here on the battlefield. Things have been difficult since the enemy launched their latest offensive, sending in thousands of DEI warriors to raid a nearby village. These terrorists performed unspeakable atrocities on the women, placing them in positions of power and influence. They then assaulted the children’s minds by making them read “Fahrenheit 451” (presumably climate change propaganda) and “The Running Man” (perhaps President Obama’s workout routine). For now, Private Davis and I have been assigned to recom duty (short for recommaissance, short for reconnaissance on communists). Tell Father I said hello.

Dear Mother, 

Thank you for your reply, and I hope Father’s enema goes well. As per our last scouting reports, they have started giving the children SAT books, organizing service clubs, and establishing a Gay-Straight Alliance. I must confess I do not understand the strategic value of this alliance, nor am I deeply familiar with either of these countries. However, I can only imagine what horrors the combined might of Gay and Straight will inflict upon our infantrymen. In fact, I remember Private Davis mentioning that he has been seized by Gay before, while we were conversing in our shared bunk. I shall ask him about it before we go to bed tonight.

Dear Mother, 

Thank you for your sincere reply, and please tell Father that the diarrhea will subside soon. It is with a heavy heart that I report that the enemy took Private Davis yesterday. The evening began with standard volleys of chemical bombardment, consisting of blue hair dye and almond milk bombs. However, just as we sat down to watch “Gutfeld!,” the ground shook with mortar fire, and we received reports of a group of insurgents breaching our northern perimeter. Private Davis and I were on ready alert, so we grabbed our rifles and fake neckbeards and headed north. But before we could locate the perimeter, we were ambushed by bandits commandeering an armored Tesla Model 3. They captured Private Davis, shoved him into the front part of the car where the engine is supposed to be, and took off blasting “1989 (Taylor’s Version)” into the night.

Dear Mother,

Thank you again for your reply, and tell Father that ice cubes would probably fit in there. Although we regained some ground while the enemy was arguing about who should host the Golden Globes, the situation remains at a stalemate. Oh, how I long to be reunited with Private Davis! Who knows what horrors they are subjecting him to? I have heard stories of forcefully inflicted “piercings” that target the ears, belly buttons, and more sensitive regions, undergone voluntarily by their soldiers as a test of their own worthiness. Others have heard their troops chanting about “eating the rich”, a cannibalistic act so horrifying it compels me to respect their savagery. I tell you, these men are being reduced to mindless slaves! Anyways, I am off to go shoot at the treetops until I am called for duty.

Dear Mother,

Great success! We retrieved Private Davis during a recovery operation yesterday. I must say, although I was glad to meet my old friend, he was surely a sorry sight: his vest, clearly tattered, was cropped to his ribcage; his trousers had been forced off, replaced by a colorful undergarment; his once-glorious beard had been defiled into a horseshoe mustache, and his tongue was perhaps injured, for he spoke with a dreadful lisp. We embraced, and he kissed me full on the lips, which I was surprised by, but did not object to – such was the pressure of the mission at hand. Overall, I must say, today’s events have left me exhilarated. I wonder whether we have more in common with the enemy than we think. Perhaps there is a future where, free from the throes of partisanship, we can reconcile our differences and come together, proudly united under a waving American flag! Also, please tell Father to take his laxatives.

Sachin Singh is the Vol. 265 Managing Editor for Humor. He is from Santa Clara, CA and Bangalore, India, and enjoys reading and going outside.

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