"Write," hesaid. "Pick something completely impossible. Something you couldn'thave unless Santa Claus brings it. Otherwise, we're going to call you...Scrooge' from now on."There didn't seem to be any way to escape from these fanatics withoutwriting something. So I picked up the pen and began, "Dear Santa..."They were looking over my shoulder. "Do you mind?" I said firmly, andthey backed off.I wrote: "Dear Santa. I've been living alone a long time. My houseneeds a woman. Please provide. The gal and other guy were both from Parris Island, and in the tradition of the Marines we then compared “East Coast” and “West Coast” training. And yeah, they had sand fleas. But we had Mount Motherfucker. They had humidity, we had an International Airport less than a mile away.They then filled me in on what to expect for the next week. Tomorrow would be filling out travel vouchers, and getting signed into the base and training unit. And we might get a few hours of duty every day or so, mostly. More

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