To the illustrious Brandenburgische Artillerie-Brigade,
Ever since the day the brave soldiers of your regiment marched into my village and heroically slaughtered my father and brothers, and then rightfully forced themselves upon my mother and sisters, I knew that I wanted to join your proud ranks.
And so I prepared myself: training both my body and my mind, I prepared myself to join your glorious regiment. I've cultivated and groomed the finest mustache in all of Saxony; the women of the region can scarcely contain themselves at the sight of it and it is not uncommon for me to have to strike them when their lust overcomes them and they attempt to touch it, for such a thing would be unthinkable. I have practiced day and night with the broomstick I keep underneath my cot; swinging it around and making the appropriate noises with my mouth when I pretend to fire it, I am certain that I have adequately simulated and prepared myself for the glory of war.
Now that these things are said and done one thing is certain in my mind: I am ready. I am ready to fight, get shot, have an amputation, and then die of infection. Like a man.