It is well that war is so terrible, else we should grow too fond of it. Although, people are fond of the damnedest things. Like licorice. That shit tastes like ass. I apologize for my salty language, my dearest Eliza. It’s just that I have strong feelings about licorice.
Sometimes, during battles, I pretend that my enemy is made of licorice, and that licorice is trying to destroy me, my family, and our entire way of life. I don’t have to pretend very hard–licorice is, after all, an abomination to God, liberty and motherhood.
But I am afraid I may have taken my licorice hatred too far, my dearest Eliza. With a like-minded platoon of good, licorice-hating men, we have split off from our army to fight the REAL enemy: licorice. Wherever licorice is, we’ll be there to destroy it, and to destroy the people who aid and abet licorice.
It will be a long fight, my dearest Eliza, but someday, I promise I will return to you in a licorice-free world.
Yours without licorice,
General Ulysses S. Grant (drunk)
PS: I think the South won the Battle of Bull Run, on penalty kicks.