Medical Report Notes: 11/22/2014 18:32

Pvt. Steven James reported to the medic tent at 14:58, showing signs of second degree burns along both forearms and multiple small lacerations across his exposed flesh. Pvt. James had been participating in a live fire exercise featuring Puritan automated defense systems. He reports that when running the tactical course, a flamethrower hidden in the branches of a Christmas tree had malfunctioned, sending fuel all over the Private’s hands and arms. A spark from the tree’s ignition module had set Pvt. James’ arms alight, causing the burns. Treatment was applying burn ointment, cleaning the wound, and wrapping in clean dressing. He is to be placed on light duty and will return to medical personnel for dressing changes and followups before being cleared for return to full duty. The small lacerations were caused by Pvt. James wandering into the fire of the X-Mas Letter Cannon while trying to seek out help. The lacerations are minor and should heal quickly. Pvt. James was also given a topical antibiotic ointment, and ordered to apply twice daily when dressing changes occur.

Personal Notes:

The new weapons are far more devious than the medical staff was prepared for. These kinds of injuries continue to happen, and mostly due to the shoddy nature in which they were constructed. The enemy’s use of slave labor and non-existent safety standards (I am sure OSHA would have a field day) has serious battlefield treatment implications. It is possible that we could retrain a sizable portion of our medical staff to handle these injuries, though it is unlikely that all medics would receive proper training before deployment. It is also my personal recommendation that the standard field medic kits be outfitted with more tiny bandages and burn cream.

Cpl. Philipp Fisher SOCM

Letter Home (2)

Dear Dad and Dad

Well, it looks like the hope of peace is dwindling because they’ve shipped my unit to… …some place colder. I was hoping the warm socks you gave me would be unneeded, but alas.

How are things at home? I don’t get that much R&R now and so I haven’t checked out the news. I’ll bet things are heating up on the cable shows. After all, O’Reilly can’t help himself. I did see Amanda Knief do an interview the other day. She’s so agreeable it makes the other guests’ Christian disdain all that more noticeable. I like her (no Dad, not *that* way… sheesh).

The thing that really frosts me is all the marketing for shopping (you really can’t escape that even up here). They decry the commercialization of the season as part of secularization, but it’s not as if any of that cash gets to the troops that need it for gear or operations! It’s like they get to have their cake and eat it too. (sigh)

You should see the new gear we got this year. I’ve got a gun that REDACTED, and my helmet includes REDACTED. REDACTED, with it I can even REDACTED. It just goes to show you the importance of science!

Not sure when I’ll get to write next, hopefully before Native People’s Oppression Anniversary Day.

Your daughter,



Send cookies. And egg nog. And a crack extraction team.

Hello. My name is Barry Kringle, and I have been captured and held prisoner by the enemy. I don’t know how much time I have left, so I pray that this letter I’ve written on my last piece of wrapping paper in my own blood and attached to a sewer rat reaches someone- anyone who can let my superiors know what I have found. Otherwise, I fear all may be lost.

I was sent in as a spy to gather Intel on enemy troop movements. Six long months I was right in the belly of the beast- Supreme Commander Silverman’s personal Barista. Then, one day, I really pooped in the eggnog. Pardon my French. It was a rookie mistake I was warned about nearly every day of my training. I’d heard stories, but I never believed it would happen to me. You think there’s no way you’ll screw up, but disaster comes out of nowhere like a rogue icicle in a snowball fight.

One minute you’re saying how you’d like to go on the next Nativity Scene raid, the next you’ve accidentally dropped a candy cane into your boss’s cappuccino, drawn a reindeer in the foam, and the jig is up. I will go to my grave kicking myself for that error, but the job messes with your head, man. You try, but you can’t just unlearn a lifetime of spreading Christmas cheer. There’s no off switch for holiday magic. There’s just not.

Needless to say, I was immediately thrown into the brig and, after a blood test confirmed that a quarter of my DNA spells out a delicious sugar cookie recipe, there was no point in denying who my uncle is anymore. However, I did manage to uncover vital information the day before I was nabbed and have sent this out in hopes that a Christmas miracle will take it where it needs to go!

At a secret underground lab at MIT, scientists are days away from perfecting a time machine with which they plan to go back and literally make the Baby Jesus cry. It is diabolical, I know, but not the worst of their heinous plot. These godless grinches are planning to place plates of poisoned cookies at strategic locations all over the world on Christmas Eve. It will be disastrous! Please, if there is any Christmas Spirit in you at all, get this information to the North Pole as fast as you can. It’s too late for me- they have fed me a constant diet of whole grains, vegetables and lean proteins, without even an ounce of processed sugar, and watched gleefully while I wither away to a healthy BMI- but I may still be able to save Christmas. Maybe I am not too late to turn the tides! The fate of the most wonderful time of the year rests solely in your hands. Good luck and God bless us, every one!

2LT Barry Kringle, 12-25th CAV, Airborne Reindeer Division, Special Ops
World Popcorn Garland Stringing Champion nine years running
Husband, father, and only son of Santa’s half-brother, Karl Kringle.

Tom Jackson sends his love to Jillian

Dearest Jillian,

I hope you’re doing well. I’m currently stationed in Alaska just outside of REDACTED . Snow shoes and dog sleds, yay. It’s so cold. Two nights ago a few of us went in town for some drinks and saw a Christmas tree right in the square. We alerted our captian and after a few hours the troops put together a plan of attack and we used our empty beer cans to construct a makeshift Festivus pole that we then erected right next to the tree. We were victorious, but on the way home I couldn’t help but think to myself “what’s it all for? Does anybody even care about Christmas anymore?” Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. But I must remain vigilant against those who wish to remind others that Christmas was once a religious holiday.

Tell my mom I love her and with any luck the war will be won in time for me to be home for Christmas. Kinda ironic, huh?

Private Tom Jackson

Lee’s War Journal #1

Its really fucking cold here.

You would think after two months of relentless combat training that the powers that be would send us somewhere for a bit of rest and relaxation. At least I thought that. Instead we are here in a makeshift camp in REDACTED our asses off. Not much in the way of heat and no wifi whatsoever. We are under strict orders not to communicate with the outside world in any way, shape or form. So let me paint that picture for you, I am in a frozen wasteland with over 10,000 Atheists and more coming everyday with little heat, no internet, and shitty food. No alcohol either. To top it off we have nothing to occupy our time save for the daily combat drills. Even more fun, invasion day is REDACTED.

Some of the folks in my company have taken it upon themselves to set up some sort of low tech poor mans Facebook throughout the camp. They draw memes, and nail them to anything in sight. After a few hours they come back to see what others have posted under them. Anything to pass the time I guess.

Speaking of my company, I have been given command of the Cobras. Upon hearing the name three of my lieutenants almost had a knife fight to see which one got to be Destro and they have all started calling me Cobra Commander. I don’t really know what to do with that but if it makes them happy I suppose I can run with it. They all seem pretty dedicated to the mission. When Supreme Commander David Silverman put out the call to put a stop to this Christmas nonsense once and for all, each of them signed up without a second thought. However by now a great deal of that enthusiasm has withered thanks to these shitty living conditions. I would like to say that I am sure they will do fine, but I have my doubts. More on that later.

At least the ride over here was nice. When I was told we would be taking a ship from NY to here I assumed we would be riding some shitty passenger liner. So of course I was shocked when I arrived at the harbor to see our vessel, the ASS Dawkins. Now I get the fact that militant Atheists need an army, but I never imaged we already had a Navy. When I asked Colonel Muscato about it he just looked at me and said “If the Church of Scientology can have a Navy so can we”. The Dawkins is one of many ships we have acquired and refitted to suit our needs. One of these days I am going to have to figure out how all of this was paid for.

I will write more later when I have the time, for now I have a pile of paperwork that needs to be signed and a company clerk looming over me.

Kaptain Lee Moore
Cobra Company

Quiggle’s diary

It’s quiet this evening. Too quiet. Here I sit with my rifle, expecting those dastardly atheists to show any day now. Last I heard, once again they were trying to invade our displays in the center of towns all over the United States! Now, we’ve gotten word from our spies that watch children all over the world that they have finally decided to assault our compound here. NOT ON MY WATCH! I’ve got my rifle, my bag of candy canes, and my bible. We will defend Santa’s compound at all costs. To the last reindeer, the last cup of hot cocoa, the last toy, the last elf. They may come this far, but NO FURTHER!

Letter home.

Dear Dad and Dad,

Thanks for the care package you sent me in congratulating my promotion to 2nd Lieutenant. I already own the Hitchen’s book, but I’m sure I can find a way to put it to good use. Sometimes people backslide when they worry about dying in war and start praying, but I’m sure passing the book around the unit will help avoid imaginary hope.

Our unit has already been transferred to a staging area in the US. I can’t say where, but I don’t think it’s saying too much that it’s in a place where we godless can operate with confidence to some degree. You know – major urban area with a relatively educated population and diversity of religious views. Of course to hear the local media you’d never know it – they’re already complaining about the lack of “merry christmas” – in OCTOBER!?!

We’re all busy here doing drills and preparation. Some other units will be assigned to the media unit – you know they love to hate on us on TV, so that’ll be quite an active front that I’m sure will see major action early. I’m pretty sure my unit will be going North though (good thinking on the warm socks in the package BTW – thanks). I don’t mind saying I’m nervous – I hear stories. The elves have had plenty of time in the off season and I hear they’re deploying these automated clockwork contraptions of lethality (they love to build stuff). No doubt this is really an attempt to keep the elves themselves away from the front, the cowards! Also, they tell us the reindeer units have added stealth to their capabilities, so we could get hit with little or no warning with the christian love. But I’m not tooooo worried. My unit has been training hard and we all know how smart the staff officers are – I’m sure they have a cunning plan. I almost feel sorry for the poor believers – not having enough confidence in each other to the point of needing literally pray for miracles. Maybe I’ll catch one in a fox hole and they’ll pray instead of thinking and going for their weapon.

Anyway, I’m not sure what the schedule really is or even if we really are headed North, so for right now it’s just a lot of trying to keep busy. I’ll probably get a chance to write some more later. I know it’s always possible that I might make it back, but I don’t have mere faith in our cause or our leaders – I have confidence backed up by evidence. So I will see you again in January.

Your daughter,


Barnaby writes home

Jolly Trixie,

Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve written you. Keeping track of the “naughty/nice” budget has kept me quite busy this year. It seems every year our budget swells, but the naughty list does too. To be honest, and please keep this between us, I think we spend far too much money per person now a days. I remember when the gifts were simple and being on the naughty list actually meant something. But that’s not why I’m writing you.

There has been a rumor going around that the Big Guy may end instituting a draft this year. Every year there is speculation but after the Ten Commandments were destroyed the buzz has really escalated. I can’t believe the atheists would be behind that act, but everyone is convinced they are. It seems counter intuitive to their mission, but I’m just an accountant so what do I know?

Don’t worry too much about the draft. They have no use for a numbers guy on the front line.

I miss you quite a bit. Your mum told me you were working hard on your wedding for this spring. I hope Bixby doesn’t end up having to go to war this year, and as long as everything remains the same I should be able to make it. That is, if I can stand to listen to our family rehash their battles with the non believers. My love for you, dear cousin, is completely worth it though.

Write back to me when you have a spare moment. Keep me updated if you hear anything through Bixby. You must have far more information on this than I do. Never thought you would marry a military guy, but I’m sure he is nothing short of awesome to have won your heart.

Yours in cheer,