216
PARTISAN REVIEW
where others think for you / where others decide for you /where others/
in fact/protect you/(and let us be fair and not forget to mention the
free board
&
room
&
the free uniforms-summer and winter uni–
forms) , and so I took advantage of all those advantages but especially (1
hardly dare admit it)
I took advantage of my education: I wrote love
letters-love letters for all the guys in my barrack [Company C-Third
Platoon] Yes, I wrote love letters for all the jerks in my barrack who
couldn ' t do it all by themselves Love letters to all the guys' little broads
in all the corners of America Love letters for all the ignorants all the
hillbillies in my outfit
to
all the little hicktowns of Texas Kentucky
Alabama Tennessee Arkansas Mississippi and even as far north as Ohio
(which in those days I pronounced OYO-question of background–
because of the difficulty the lack of experience too I had with the H in
the middle) In fact I even had to write some letters as far away as
Alaska.
Five bucks a letter! That was my price (Take it or Leave it) and
no one bitched about it . Therefore- WOW! would I bang that loving
tuff away (in those days I had an old beat up portable Olivetti)!
Fabulous dreams Vows of all types Endless unbreakable promises
Sweet and languishing memories Weeping descriptions of nature Wild
erotic images and situations And even dirty little doodles with color
pencils in the corners of the writing paper which the guys would of
course furnish me with the envelopes and the stamps (Air Mail) . Ah!
what ORGIES I invented on the spot what ROMANTICISM I created
sitting there on the floor writing on my footlocker!
nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
I wrote approximately twelve letters per week (4 to 6 pages each) , with a
few extra ones for the holidays. I would read them aloud to all the guys
in the barrack before sending them off in a bundle . And the answers
(Unbelievable!) we would get. I was the CYRANO of that regiment.
All those sweet little bitches in all those corners of America (including
remote parts of Alaska) were madly in love with me without suspecting
that it was me (of course) who was writing to them . I was the love-hack.
The love dispatcher of the 82 nd . And as soon as the replies arrived , in a
continuous stream , the guys would make me read them immediately.
Even before they themselves were allowed to open the letters . But ,
