Mother— These words evade me. The Draft Council sent word by telegram that I am to be dispatched to Chicago in immediacy! Rest assured that I will carry our family name with honor & distinction. Your pride is my guiding light. I find myself gone with the Wind to Chicago. —CW

Mother— With bated breathe, our troops arrived at the gates of destiny. The Dairy Platoon was stifled as our unit was armed with lactase pills. As the last of the candlelight flickered, Lt. Moore recovered the aerial ballistic. The Frenchman, LaFleur, bent his knee. Yours. —CW

Mother— Many a men pledge fealty to the Dogwalkers of Cleve's Land by pinning hopes on a prince yet unproven. Onward we march to to hold the north against the Dairy Platoon. Fear not, our apothecaries prepare Lactase pills. I shall take my dayrest under the Sun's light. —CW

Mother— Philly hath fallen! Our ground assault broke the ranks of the Cheesesteak Militia with their muskets scattered like cheap bread in a losing wind. Let them squawk; by dawn my nailpolish shall be Kelly green, that they might recognize the color of their own undoing. —CW

Gen. Johnson— At Sun high, our troops march on the old snows of Valley Forge to defeat the curious brotherly lovers of the tush push. The curse of Benedict Parkey & his ill-struck Double Doink yet chills the hearts of our people. Bird flu cured turkey meats are en route. —CW

Mother— How is the farm? I write to you from the enemy lines of the Steel Curtain. The Pittsburgh Steel Workers' Union has been broken upon the anvil of our advance. Their hammers lie quiet, their forges cold, their proud line bent to our will. We shape the steel now. —CW

Let it be public record— We stand as Conquerors in the North, rightful tax collectors in the region with our banners planted firm in barren tundra. Yet, still the townsfolk chatter of my nail polish. Let them whisper, for the crown rests upon my brow with their knee's bent. —CW

Chicagoans— The barbarians lie broken in retreat, and their captain named ‘Nine’ is unmasked as naught but a 'Zero' in the book of war. Chicago’s banner flies high as the barbarians scatter to the frosted lakes of crackled ice. The only ice in the region floods my veins. —CW

Mother— Victory was a mistress difficult to persuade. We took the Ohio Valley under the cloak of daylight savings at dawn, leaving the Bengals in tatters upon the field with their stripes but ribbons in the mud. There is wind in our sails yet again. —CW

Old @TroyAikman— I struggle to grasp thy discontent amid our triumphs, yet the tone of thy voice was nigh insufferable. Best you tend to the remnants of your old regiment—cowardice Cowboys—whom we humbled but a fortnight past in glory. I shall cheers thee some Lamb meat. —CW

Mother— The whispers are honest, we have prolonged the government shutdown. The men descended by land & sea upon on the shores of the Potomac. Jacob Moody, a newly transacted private proved able under the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air. Yours in Vengeance. —CW

Mother— In the dying moments of our siege of Vegas, our battalion was able to strike whilst the special forces defended every grain of sand. There was smoke of gunfire. Under the scorching Sun, we found an oasis in the desert & tasted the sweet nectar of victory. Yours. —CW

Brethren in Arms— Victory! Jeremiah sent his army of Cowboys in an attack on Soldiers' Field, led by the crossed Matthias of from Eber's Flus. Our cannons rained hellfire on their cavalry, capturing several prisoners including Pvt. Dakota Prescott. A Lamb was sacrificed. —CW

Major Poles— Though my sidearm be of low merit, the public demand answers for the paucity of quality men in our ranks. I fear thy fortune hath expired & the sands of thy hourglass runneth low. It worries the Union of your inability to draft. This has become inexcusable. —CW

Chicago's Land— Northern Barbarians, led by the virgin Jeremiah Jethro McCarthy, are attempting a night landing on our shores. Extinguish thy candle flames, that the foe be blinded. Troops! Study thy weapons as holy scripture, for in their steel lies our salvation. Yours. —CW

Gen. Johnson— I pray my ears deceive for whispers from the Southern Corridor claim the Oilman Jeremiah Jones has bartered his Defense Minister for Wisconsin Dairy stock papers. There must be a mistake in the telegram. I will check the Morse coded-message, at once. Standby. —CW

Gen. Johnson— Scribes of the Press do wound me with slanders born of bias & petty intrigue. But steel thine hearts! Fort Dearborn shall withstand the infamous Buffalo Williams. This trial shall echo through every gazette and frontier sheet. Onward in Providence’s name. —CW

Mother— How is the farm? Indeed, it is so that Gen. Johnson dismissed the special operations battalion due to cowardice and fumbled maneuvers. It is a relief to follow a General who steers the post like a man at the helm in storm—unyielding, and blind to favor. With love. —CW

Mother— Word has reached the Great Plains that our local clergyman, born on the lands of Fort Dearborn, has risen to be the holiest in the land. There are heavenly winds in our sails. We are living in Biblical times. Godspeed. —CW

Gentle Men & Women of Chicago— I put quill to parchment to inform that Virginia McCaskey, formerly of the Halas lineage, has perished from her heavenly embodiment. Whilst her kinship remains, her departure leaves a void in the fabric of our city. She is with Papa Halas. —CW