Transcribed. Below find the original letter. 
Dearest Mary,
I am writing from deep in the trenches of the great War on Christmas. War is hell, Mary. I lost my best friend today after hearing him wish someone “happy holidays.” I held him there in my arms and whispered “we can’t be friends anymore because you are a Godless heathen” - and just like that, he was gone.
We’re fighting our hardest, my love, but the enemy’s attacks on Christmas are relentless. Today alone they took out three nativity scenes. And while patrolling near a local elementary school, we saw one of their “holiday pageants,” in which Jesus Christ is only mentioned in SOME of the songs and not ALL of the songs! They’re using children as soldiers - children, Mary. It’s madness, I tell you, utter madness.
I fear I won’t be able to shake the sights I’ve seen: new lovers kissing at an office “holiday party” with no sign of mistletoe or even the smallest crucifix. And these locals with their bizarre traditions: I saw one family celebrating our lord’s day by lighting candles and spinning a top. They’re so primitive in their ways, Mary. We broke down the door of one tribe called “the Cohen family” and shoved a Christmas tree in their living room, but they did not greet us as liberators. They did yell “Jesus Christ!”, so clearly there is progress, but alas, I’m not in it for the glory. I’m in it to preserve the official holiday of that all-Christian melting pot we call America. 
Things aren’t all bad, Mary. My daily ration of candy canes and egg nog isn’t much, but it’s enough to keep my spirits alive. And they have pine trees where I'm stationed that I swear touch the sky! I like to imagine the presents we’d put under them once this damned war is over, spoils from November’s bloody Black Friday Crusade. And we’d give them to our unborn child, who’s caroling in your womb as I write this letter. That is of course, if I make it home alive. 
I must confess, Mary, sometimes I feel as though I’ll not make it. I’ve seen otherwise good men crack under the pressure and say things like “Season’s Greetings” in situations where they’re not sure of a particular person’s religious beliefs. Sometimes I find myself entertaining crazy thoughts like “Maybe ‘Happy Holidays’ makes a certain amount of sense. After all, there are several holidays this time of year and Christmas is only one of them so why go around insisting that people say ‘Merry Christmas’ even on, say, December 6th when Christmas day is still weeks away?…I mean it’s not like you’d wish someone a happy 4th of July on June 17th! You’d say ‘have a great summer’ or something encompassing of the overall season!” …Listen to me, Mary, if they heard me saying such things, they’d hang me for treason. Or at least hang up on me when I made my daily call-in to the Rush Limbaugh Show.
If this is my final correspondence, please know that I fought the good fight. For you. For Christmas. 
For America. 
Yours in Tinsel.
Original note, preserved here: