This is a letter from oldest bro, Jonathan. We hadn't heard from him since he left at the beginning of March. We got the first one yesterday and this one today--this one is much more expressive of his character. It is special because I know him, but some of this stuff is just plain funny. (: I'm sure reading it once will give everyone a very odd picture of who he is, but we are a very odd family. Still, don't be affraid to just read the whole thing. He's so the bomb!

(on back of envelope) 11 April ‘03

Still doing good. Was with First Company to take airport. Not much action right now
Love you!

(Inside)

31 March ‘03

Dear Dad, Mom, and James (and Mary if she’s home).

Well, I just learned how to make coffee from Sgt. Cintron, so as I usually feel with caffeine (or nicotine) in my system, I’m inspired to write a little bit.

A little bit about Sgt. Cintron—he’s a Puerto Rican guy who’s been in the Army for 18 ½ years and is still only and E-6. I guess he punched out a Captain back in the day and hasn’t been promoted since. He’s got a funny accent and tells me to relax all the time. The other day, he addressed me, “Scott! . . .” intending to tell me something, so, like a good soldier, I snapped to the position of Parade Rest, hands behind my back, chest out, stomach in, feet shoulder-width apart, and responded “Roger, Sgt.!” He and the guys around him proceeded to joke, saying, “Oh my gosh! Did you see that? He almost broke his elbows!” and stuff like that. He asked me what unit I’m from. “6th Ranger Training Battalion, Sgt.!” He said, “Oh know!” shaking his head and sighing, “Anudder Ranger.” Then came the comments about Rangers being brain washed SOB’s, etc. It was all in good fun. That created a good first impression, so now they like me. This unit is VERY relaxed. It is a good break from the stupid games at my unit.

One cool thing about the Hemmingway book that I’m reading is that everyone drinks cognac. And it all takes place in WW1 Italy. But if you guys wanted to buy me a birthday present, some very fine cognac would be perfect. There’s two places that use the same method as RMS did that are located in the North Bay, and I’m sure there’s plenty from Cognac, France. I really enjoy having something nice to offer when someone visits or when I’m smoking a cee-gar on the weekend (weekend includes Wednesday afternoon through Monday). A couple months ago, I went down to Dobny’s room, and he had some nice Scotch that he gave me. I’m not really a Scotch type guy (not enough flavor), but it’s the gesture, expense, and classic refinement that I enjoy. I think there’s nothing cooler than being a refined warrior. A few weeks later, Drobny had a couple bottles of wine when I went down there, so we opened a pinot noir and watched a movie. I enjoy the old school ways. When you come visit me when I get my own place someday, I want to have a variety of drinks available so that I can offer my guests something when they get there, such as a martini or margarita, a fine wine matched to the dinner, and possibly an evening drink. Maybe I sound like a lush, but it will all be kept in moderation. I’d like to set up a room with an air filter so I can smoke cee-gars and my pipe indoors. That’s why I like Grandma’s house. It’s set up perfectly for all that. If I bought her place, I’d put in a pool and replace her counter with an indoor grill. I learned how to make a gourmet snack by heating up my MRE cheese before I squirt in on my crackers, so now I want to learn the culinary arts. Maybe a cooking class at the JC would be enough. I want to be able to cook nice, Mediterranean meals for guests. Something I like about the Arab world is the hospitality. In Islam, is is a sin not to be hospitable. If you remember, when we visited the Archis, they always had an exotic fruit bowl and outstanding dinners, and they let us eat ice cream in their hot tub, etc. To sum it all up, I love the idea of being an adventurous, well to do, slightly socially refined bachelor. I watched a movie that one of my dance instructors recommended to me called, “Scent of a Woman,” with Al Paccino. It’s about a blind, retired Army Colonel who lives with his daughter’s family. His daughter hires a guy from a nearby prep-school to assist him while they go on vacation for the weekend. Al isn’t supposed to leave the house, but he has the boy pack his bags and they take a limo to New York, where they stay in the Plaza Hotel, eat at the finest restaurants, he has a very expensive suit custom tailored in a small, excusive men’s store, and they test-drive a cherry red Ferrari. You find out that he intends to commit suicide at the end of the weekend and is just experiencing his favorite things one last time, and of courts the boy convinces him not to. Al has a very fowl mouth through it all, but someday, I want to go to New York and have some custom tailor work done. It would just be cool, no matter how impractical. Or maybe go to Italy and get an Armani. And then take a limo through the countryside to the Ferrari factory, where I’d have a car built to my specifications, which I would in turn drive to my villa on the French Riviera, which I would be staying in for a few weeks while I represented Scott Vineyards at an international wine competition, once again proving that Sonoma County reigns supreme. I have big dreams, but you guys will probably be around to see them come to fruition. Just give me 15-30 years.

Well, right now, I’m pretty far from that. I’m sitting in the desert with flies all around me, a sand storm kicking up, and wearing a chemical suit that I haven’t been able to wash since I opened it two weeks ago. I’m leaning up against a Hummer tire, my loaded M-16 and night-vision goggles on my left, my backpack on my right, and my feet propped up on my body armor. My hands look very tan, but it’s mostly impregnated dirt. I’m sitting in the sand (which looks more like dirty, rock-filled, construction site ground), and the only thing on the Horizon is groups of military vehicles. It’s actually a rather enjoyable day. It was sunny earlier, so I rolled up my pants and t-shirt sleeves, took off my boots, and kicked back to catch some rays. Hey, why not have spring break in the desert? We’ve got the biggest beach you’ve ever seen. The only real excitement today was watching the MLRS launch 6 missiles in a row. They shoot up with a deafening roar and a trail of fire, disappearing into the stratosphere in seconds. The cool thing is that 6 of them will obliterate almost half a square mile of real estate. Basically, we’re waiting to move through a certain location that lies in the path to out final objective.

That’s about it for now. If you guys run across a couple hundred extra bucks and want to buy me another gift, a box of excellent cigars would be awesome. But that’s probably something I should hand select and buy myself. A couple of really nice ones would be a great homecoming gift. I found I like them medium in size with lots of flavor. Some of the ones with pointy ends would be cool to try.

I love you guys. On a serious and morbid note, if I don’t make it back, please know that I died doing something I love, that I’m fine with dying now, and that I’d be immortalized as a hero back at 6th RTB.

See you soon.
Love Jonathan

PS Please keep these letters