Situation Report...All Quiet on the Pathology Front

15-June-2007
11:12 Zulu
St. Maarten, Netherlands Antilles

Gentlemen, the situation is bleak. Currently we are holed-up in an apartment trying to review intelligence and prepare for what will be our toughest battle to date. We have learned through our operatives that General GarriSims will launch a full attack on 0745 hrs Zulu Monday, 18-June, the likes of which we have yet to endure.

Over the last several weeks of this campaign, we've managed to gain some ground but not without suffering casualties. Most sadly, PFC Social Life, Pvt. Free Time, and Cpl. Othershit Todo are listed as KIA. Cpt. Marital Bliss and Lt. Personal Hygiene have been wounded and shipped out to a combat hospital where thankfully I expect full recoveries and look forward to them rejoining my unit ASAP. We are still awaitng the reinforcements HQ has promised, most notably, Pvt. Noname B. CuzImnotbornyet. They are 2 days overdue and we are getting anxious.

Sadly one of my boys, Sgt. Whythehell DoIneedtoknowthiscrap (he's parents were foreigners) had to be put down with extreme prejudice. It seems after the battle of Random Statistics and Rare Diseases he was a little shell-shocked and ran around the camp trying to stir up a mutiny. I had 2Lt. Ian Glenfiddich put the poor sergeant down by hitting him in the head with a bottle of single malt scotch. Sacrifices must be made!

Our weapons are non-existent. We will be entering the fray Monday basically with only our memories and quick wits to depend on. The key to this victory is to organize the intelligence and out-think Gen. GarriSims. I hope to do just that.

This morning I sensed morale was low so I borrowed from Gen. George S. Patton; I gave the troops what I thought was a stirring and rousing speech. An excerpt is below:

"There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great War of Medical School, you WON'T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, 'Well, your Granddaddy shoveled shit in Philadelphia.'

No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, 'Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Third Army and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-Bitch named Vince!"

I think it was effective, as the men seemed ready to eat concertina wire and piss napalm. HOOAH! My boys are battle hardened and eager to crush GarriSims or any other general that Prime Minister Tien throws at us!

Half a semester, half a semester, half a semester onward. Into the valley of Pathos rode the 600(brain cells).

Respectfully yours in combat,

General I. M. Frustrated ('Vince' to my friends)