Blitzzz (RIP)
12-02-2008, 21:35
I didn't know where to put this so after it's been here a while just close it. Blitz
This is from a Force Recon Marine in Afghanistan; a tough SOB who loves his work and was absent the day they taught political correctness.
o
It's freezing here. I'm sitting on hard, cold dirt between rocks and
shrubs at the base of the (DELETED) Mountains along the (DELETED) River
watching a hole that leads to a tunnel that leads to a cave. Stake
out, my friend, and no pizza delivery for thousands of miles.
I also glance at the area around my ass every ten to fifteen seconds to
avoid another scorpion sting. I've actually given up battling the
chiggers and sand fleas, but them scorpions give a jolt like a cattle
prod. Hurts like a bastard. The antidote tastes like transmission fluid
but God bless the Marine Corps for the five vials of it in my pack.
The one truth the Taliban cannot escape is that, believe it
or not, they are human beings, which means they have to eat
food and drink water. That requires couriers and that's where an old
bounty hunter like me comes in handy. I track the couriers, locate the
tunnel entrances and storage facilities, type the info into the
handheld, shoot the coordinates up to the satellite link that tells the
air commanders where to drop the hardware, we bash some heads for a
while, then I track and record the new movement.
It's all about intelligence. We haven't even brought in the snipers yet.
These scurrying rats have no idea what they're in for. We are but days
away from cutting off supply lines and allowing the eradication to begin.
I dream of bin Laden waking up to find me standing over him
with my boot on his throat as I spit into his face and plunge my nickel
plated Bowie knife through his frontal lobe. But you know me. I'm a
romantic. I've said it before and I'll say it again: This country blows,
man. It's not even a country. There are no roads, there's no
infrastructure, there's no government. This is an
inhospitable, rock pit shit hole ruled by eleventh century
warring tribes. There are no jobs here like we know jobs.
Afghanistan offers two ways for a man to support his family: join the
opium trade or join the army. That's it. Those are your options. Oh, I
forgot, you can also live in a refugee camp and eat plum-sweetened,
crushed beetle paste and squirt mud like a goose with stomach flu if
that's your idea of a party. But the smell alone of those 'tent cities
of the walking dead' is enough to hurl you into the poppy fields to
cheerfully scrape bulbs for eighteen hours a day.
I've been living with these Tajiks and Uzbeks and Turkmen and even a
couple of Pushtins for over a month and a half now and this much I can
say for sure: These guys, all of 'em, are Huns...actual, living Huns. They
LIVE to fight. It's what they do. It's ALL they do. They have no respect
for anything, not for their families or for each other or for themselves.
They claw at one another as a way of life. They play polo
with dead calves and force their
five-year-old sons into human cockfights to defend the family honor..
Huns, roaming packs of savage, heartless beasts who feed on each other's
barbarism. Cavemen with AK47's. Then again, maybe I'm just cranky.
I'm freezing my ass off on this stupid hill because my lap warmer is
running out of juice and I can't recharge it until the sun comes up in a
few hours.
Oh yeah! You like to write letters, right? Do me a favor, Bizarre. Write
a letter to CNN and tell Wolf and Anderson and that awful, sneering,
pompous Aaron Brown to stop calling the Taliban 'smart.' They are not
smart. I suggest CNN invest in a dictionary because the word they are
looking for is 'cunning.' The Taliban are cunning, like jackals and
hyenas and wolverines. They are sneaky and ruthless and, when
confronted, cowardly. They are hateful, malevolent parasites who create
nothing and destroy everything else. Smart. Pfft. Yeah, they're real smart.
They've spent their entire lives reading only one book
(and not a very good one, as books go) and consider hygiene
and indoor plumbing to be products of the devil. They're still figuring
out how to work a Bic lighter. Talking to a Taliban warrior about
improving his quality of life is like trying to teach an ape how to hold
a pen; eventually he just gets frustrated and sticks you in the eye with
it.
OK, enough. Snuffle will be up soon so I have to get back
to my hole. Covering my tracks in the snow takes a lot of
practice but I'm good at it. Please, I tell you and my
fellow Americans to turn off the TV sets and move on with
your lives.
The story line you are getting from CNN and other news
agencies is utter bullshit and designed not to deliver truth
but rather to keep you glued to the screen through the
commercials. We've got this one under control. The worst
thing you guys can do right now is sit around analyzing what
we're doing over here because you have no idea what
we're doing and, really, you don't want to know. We are your military
and we are doing what you sent us here to do.
You wanna help? Buy Bonds America.
(Name Deleted)
Semper Fi
This is from a Force Recon Marine in Afghanistan; a tough SOB who loves his work and was absent the day they taught political correctness.
o
It's freezing here. I'm sitting on hard, cold dirt between rocks and
shrubs at the base of the (DELETED) Mountains along the (DELETED) River
watching a hole that leads to a tunnel that leads to a cave. Stake
out, my friend, and no pizza delivery for thousands of miles.
I also glance at the area around my ass every ten to fifteen seconds to
avoid another scorpion sting. I've actually given up battling the
chiggers and sand fleas, but them scorpions give a jolt like a cattle
prod. Hurts like a bastard. The antidote tastes like transmission fluid
but God bless the Marine Corps for the five vials of it in my pack.
The one truth the Taliban cannot escape is that, believe it
or not, they are human beings, which means they have to eat
food and drink water. That requires couriers and that's where an old
bounty hunter like me comes in handy. I track the couriers, locate the
tunnel entrances and storage facilities, type the info into the
handheld, shoot the coordinates up to the satellite link that tells the
air commanders where to drop the hardware, we bash some heads for a
while, then I track and record the new movement.
It's all about intelligence. We haven't even brought in the snipers yet.
These scurrying rats have no idea what they're in for. We are but days
away from cutting off supply lines and allowing the eradication to begin.
I dream of bin Laden waking up to find me standing over him
with my boot on his throat as I spit into his face and plunge my nickel
plated Bowie knife through his frontal lobe. But you know me. I'm a
romantic. I've said it before and I'll say it again: This country blows,
man. It's not even a country. There are no roads, there's no
infrastructure, there's no government. This is an
inhospitable, rock pit shit hole ruled by eleventh century
warring tribes. There are no jobs here like we know jobs.
Afghanistan offers two ways for a man to support his family: join the
opium trade or join the army. That's it. Those are your options. Oh, I
forgot, you can also live in a refugee camp and eat plum-sweetened,
crushed beetle paste and squirt mud like a goose with stomach flu if
that's your idea of a party. But the smell alone of those 'tent cities
of the walking dead' is enough to hurl you into the poppy fields to
cheerfully scrape bulbs for eighteen hours a day.
I've been living with these Tajiks and Uzbeks and Turkmen and even a
couple of Pushtins for over a month and a half now and this much I can
say for sure: These guys, all of 'em, are Huns...actual, living Huns. They
LIVE to fight. It's what they do. It's ALL they do. They have no respect
for anything, not for their families or for each other or for themselves.
They claw at one another as a way of life. They play polo
with dead calves and force their
five-year-old sons into human cockfights to defend the family honor..
Huns, roaming packs of savage, heartless beasts who feed on each other's
barbarism. Cavemen with AK47's. Then again, maybe I'm just cranky.
I'm freezing my ass off on this stupid hill because my lap warmer is
running out of juice and I can't recharge it until the sun comes up in a
few hours.
Oh yeah! You like to write letters, right? Do me a favor, Bizarre. Write
a letter to CNN and tell Wolf and Anderson and that awful, sneering,
pompous Aaron Brown to stop calling the Taliban 'smart.' They are not
smart. I suggest CNN invest in a dictionary because the word they are
looking for is 'cunning.' The Taliban are cunning, like jackals and
hyenas and wolverines. They are sneaky and ruthless and, when
confronted, cowardly. They are hateful, malevolent parasites who create
nothing and destroy everything else. Smart. Pfft. Yeah, they're real smart.
They've spent their entire lives reading only one book
(and not a very good one, as books go) and consider hygiene
and indoor plumbing to be products of the devil. They're still figuring
out how to work a Bic lighter. Talking to a Taliban warrior about
improving his quality of life is like trying to teach an ape how to hold
a pen; eventually he just gets frustrated and sticks you in the eye with
it.
OK, enough. Snuffle will be up soon so I have to get back
to my hole. Covering my tracks in the snow takes a lot of
practice but I'm good at it. Please, I tell you and my
fellow Americans to turn off the TV sets and move on with
your lives.
The story line you are getting from CNN and other news
agencies is utter bullshit and designed not to deliver truth
but rather to keep you glued to the screen through the
commercials. We've got this one under control. The worst
thing you guys can do right now is sit around analyzing what
we're doing over here because you have no idea what
we're doing and, really, you don't want to know. We are your military
and we are doing what you sent us here to do.
You wanna help? Buy Bonds America.
(Name Deleted)
Semper Fi