Fmr USMC, Bossman, and Lawman. Independent Texan, can't be canceled. Manners dont=weakness. Opinions don't make enemies, actions do. To debate is to learn. Rah!
Tales of a wanna be warrior
Chapter one
~
What's wrong with me?
October 21st 2005
Iraq
6th Civil Affairs Group team 2 attached to 2/2 Marines
"Hey Casey!" Flan shouted over the noise of the engine. I wiped my brow with the soft side of my glove and glanced over my left shoulder from my field of fire.
"Yea?" I shout back at him.
" I really wish you wouldn't sit on that box. You're up too high." He says as he shoots me a nodding glance. Cpl. Flanagan was referring to a Box of M.R.E's I was sitting on to give me a better view of the countryside.
"I'm fine mom. But I need a drink." We had just left the large house of a local Shake. We were attached to 2/2 grunts because we were a small 6 man team. The Capt. And Sgt. Roper were inside, glancing at the Shake's daughters when they could get away with it, and drinking Chi Tea. I chuckle under my breath. Chi Tea I think to myself. A disgustingly sweet tea the hoggies drink boiling hot with 7 pounds of sugar dumped into a small shot glass. Starbucks doesn't know what they're doing. I loved the stuff. The rest of the team and I stayed out in the sun with the Grunts from 2/2, and watched the streets and the valley.
Our job was to go to small villages hurt by the past events. We were here to negotiate a plan to get their village water for the first time in many many years, fi they ever had it to begin with. Tomorrow we were going to start on repairing a school house and a medical center further north. Not that anyone back at home would hear about these few days on the news. The reporters don't really talk to us unless they’re something they can pin on Bush. Teddy bears and school supplies don't get the ratings that blood and guts do. Maybe I should cut my hand real deep and hand out toys to kids. . . .
An hour later, we were heading down a road along a canal of water, thusly named canal road, one of many "canal roads" in the country. I hate the water. It wouldn't take much to flip this bucket over into that nasty liquid. The water always makes me nervous. Not as much as passing the suspicious pieces of trash on the road, knowing there's not a damn thing I can do when it blows but let the armor (which the media keeps saying I don't have) do its job.
It always amused me how it felt to drive by something I think might kill me. It's fascinating to know "absolute terror" for about 2 seconds, and have it go away as fast as it came. Your whole body tenses up so much from a simple piece of trash on the road that it literately hurts. It only amused me afterwards of course.
It's times like this I think things like, "Where am I, what am I'm doing here?" knowing that no one would, in there right mind, do this willingly, right? Normal people don't think about this stuff. Normal people don't sleep in full armor in the back of a truck for, maybe, 6 hours, then get up and walk around the country for 12 hours, only to come back and do it over again that night. What's wrong with me? I shake off the question.
I'm in the second vehicle in an 8-vehicle convoy. There's about 50 to 100 meter dispersion in between the first truck and ours. The front truck is the main vic in our convoy, with Captain Swisher, Lance corporal Lawrence the driver, Doc Thompson the unit's corpsman, and Corporal Cockerham. These men make up The Captains PSD. (Personal security)
It's been quiet all day. My rifle tilts to the sky slightly and I lean back on the wall. I prop my leg up on the bench, and for a moment, I relax.
You should never relax. "Complacency kills" they always tell us. I knew this, but it had been quiet, and I wasn't worried. I look over at the other three men in the moving armored box with me. Flan is to my left looking over the other side. The other two are Allen and Titus, 2 infantrymen from 2/2 marines. Titus has his 249 SAW (squad automatic weapon) perched over the ac unit on top of the Hmwvv. "I mean I don't think I remember what a shot of Bourbon tastes like." I continue back with Flan.
"I know what you mean." He shoots back.
"My buddy, David, said he sent me a magic package a week ago. It might be there by the time we get back."
"That would be so sweet! What's in it? " He yells out.
"I just told him to get me a buffet of drunkenness." I say with a big smile.
"Your Cap. Lets you drink?" Titus asked. He looked surprised and somewhat jealous.
"He doesn't seem to mind. He lets us do our own thing on our time." I say with a chuckle. I look up at the sky and feel the sun beat down through my Ray Bans. It almost feels like I'm back in Texas if I think hard enough. "You know I don't know what the big deal is about drin---"
You should never relax.
Getting home from work late and finding that one of you pets has died, and no one hugs you. Kind of sums up what it feels like its just part of being a man sometimes.
@bleep23_4@anneapplebaum No I understand why you said that. It just seems less important to make it a dig at them. Cause it reads "its not important anymore." maybe not from you, but most of the ones I see posting it, seem to be writing it off as a non issue because most of them left.
Ok the whole Spain Ceuta thing... So 50k migrants shoved their way in to Spain. Right freaks out. Left dismisses them cause 80% left the next day "The right wont tell you this".
Guys, the fact that they can just rush into a country like that sounds like the bigger issue.
@bleep23_4@anneapplebaum I feel like that over shadows the fact a lot of them left after a day. That sounds like an act of war. So Saying Maga wont share a fact that I think is arguably worse then what they are sharing is a bit ... I dont know the word for it, but dismissive of a much larger issue.
@DeconinckCarl@anneapplebaum@Fgandoul Oh my god thank you. I thought i was the only one asking this. Even if this is true... this is still a MAJOR security issue.