Dear Ma and Pa,
 
I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you get to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m. But I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot, and shine some things.  No hogs to slop, feed to itch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing.
Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there's warm water.

Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc, but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food, plus yours, holds you until noon when you get fed again.  It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much.

We go on 'route marches,' which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it's not my place to tell him different.  A 'route march' is about as far as to our mailbox at home.  Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.
 
The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown.  They don't bother you none.  
 
This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing.  I keep getting medals for shooting.  I don't know why.  The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move, and it ain't shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home.  All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it.  You don't even load your own cartridges.  They come in boxes.
 
Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training.  You get to wrestle with them city boys.  I have to be real careful though, they break real easy.  It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake.  I only beat him once.  He joined up the same time as me, but I'm only 5'6" and 130 pounds and he's 6'8" and near 300 pounds dry.
 
Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.
 
Your loving daughter,
Alice

Oh man this is hilarious! And it just keeps getting better the further you get through it.

As funny as it was, it was also a sad commentary on the feminization of society, as when Biden called for flight suits for pregnant women. What's next? Combat fatigues for pregnant women?

The OP reminds me of a story that an acquaintance once told me about life her growing up on a large farm in Wisconsin in the late 1940's and 1950's. She and her brothers were trained to hunt in their woods by their dad, and she and her brothers were quite proficient at it by the time they were about 10 years old. Two of her brothers were conscripted into the Army during the Vietnam war. She said that her brother's unit (they both served in the same unit) went into a wooded area in which there was a skirmish with the Vietnamese, and that her brothers were the only ones in the unit to survive it. She felt that their training to hunt in the woods helped them to survive in that war.

However, she wanted nothing to do with farming as an adult, because she was made to work so hard on the farm growing up. But she had a lot of good stories about the farm in which she was raised. I'm not sure that it's a good idea to train girls how to hunt. But apparently, this woman's dad wanted her to know how to do so. 

The thing is, living out closer to nature is objectively better for human beings than city life. 

In the city, everything declares the glory of man. Look at those immense skyscrapers! Drainage systems which whisk away rainfall out-of-sight within minutes. In the country, man is "put in his place" -- and all declares the glory of God. Every direction you look, the world screams that God alone is in control.

Which is better for man? The answer is obvious.

We are a "Generation 1", as Matthew might say.

Our motto is, "work hard, play hard".  Sundays are an absolute STRICT day of rest; we all enjoy our Sundays!  I always worry about the children being resentful of all the hard work involved, but they haven't become so yet.  Our oldest is 14, though, so maybe that will change as he gets older.  I suspect that some of the resentfulness might spring from the mother's attitude.  

We all work hard as a family, but then we all enjoy the efforts as a family, as well.  Recently the boys and their dad baled extra hay, and he told them if we don't need it this winter they could sell it and use the money for something they'd enjoy for use on our place (traps, guns, a 4-wheeler, etc).