8.03.2007

Shock And Purge

We had found something that we think belonged to one of the soldiers who were kidnapped earlier this year. So we're busting the right people.

My boys found more caches and a hearty Hell Yeah to that.

My friend found a dead guy. Hands tied behind his back, head cut off of course, belly down in the weeds.

"Roight! From the soize o'these maggots," he pointed, doing his best Crocodile Hunter impression. "I'd say he's only been dead a coupl'a days. Otherwoise the maggots would be FLOIES! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Iraqi security forces were called up to take care of the body. They were putting it in a bag when one of them started dry heaving at aggressive volumes. My buddy ol' pal starts to snicker until his laughter erupts. The Iraqi throws his end of the bag down.

"No! Not funny! NOT funny!"

My friend nods his head ad continues to laugh. The interpreter whirls around and yaks up an MRE.

On the way back to the FOB, I follow the EOD truck, and a gap opens of course. The big green monstrosity can't keep up as well as lighter vehicles, but my foot pins the limp-dick accelerator to the floor anyway. They pass through a checkpoint (U.S. military doesn't have to stop, because we are Greek Gods, we are rock stars, and no one tells us no head on, they need bombs and anonymity for that) that consists of concrete barriers atleast twenty feet high on one side and a rickety shack on the other. It's very narrow and two Iraqi Policemen are sitting down outside the shack, relaxing, making good money, being more or less worthless leeches in this punch-drunk attempt to save this country (country...? or is it a whole other planet? Calendars no longer apply and I've forgotten what it's like to see Lindsey Lohan's name in the tabloids, amen), when I come speeding towards this narrow passage at excessive speeds.

They see that I'm not slowing down and they leap up and out of what they thought might be harms way, and I jerk the wheel a little to further feed the illusion that they were going to be hit. I was in control of the situation the entire time, and I found it very humorous. I could hear my own voice laughing in the earphones of my headset.

Did I seriously do that? Regardless of the likelihood that they were just two more corrupt, murderous thieves abusing their position, did I seriously pull an asshole stunt like that?

Are we high? On what? Are we becoming intoxicated with the What The Hells and Oh My Gods and Here We Go Agains, the Holy Fuckin Shits and the Come The Fuck Ons that now and then, all signs point to You Have A Screw Loose, Guy?

No, not quite. Not me. I'm guilt tripping myself because a couple of uniformed guys moved as a precaution, and the look of indignation on one man's face because he had to move so suddenly struck me as comical.

The dogs had chewed meat off of the dead man's limbs, just like the guy face down in the road. Always face down. It's the only fate for men to meet out here. That guy was probably the one who tipped us off about the caches. We feel accomplished because we're bringing down a lot of weapons, and there's a fresh dead guy and a much older skull elsewhere, probably won't ever receive a mention. 'Specially if that cat HAD tipped us off, and was consequently butchered by the Ever Determined "bad guys", the guys that this bizarre world picked for the other team.

On an Iraqi Policeman's cell phone, just a picture, belly down, hands bound, head severed. Middle of the road. Face down in Iraq. Hidden in brush. Face down in Iraq. A stewing situation in this part of the world, so volatile that all it takes is the Green Light Withdrawal on our part and KABLAMMO, motherfuckers! Lights on and watch the very fabric of existence in this region split and tear. Chaos and carnage and RED MUD. Explosions and gunfire and limbless scowling survivors that get maybe a week or so before they're finished off or die of infection. Beheadings, shootings, bombings, stabbings, carbombings, space shuttle hijackings, water poisoning, fire of Allah, the wrath of Shiva, Mike Ditka in a bad mood, pandemonium, nothing but sheer aggression and slaughter here on the NEW AGE GRIDIRON where both end zones are blowing up and so is every hash mark on the field and there is no artificial turf.

Just red mud.

4 Comments:

  1. Haole Wahine said...
    Well, you seem to be broadening your horizons.

    thanks for taking us along.
    Anonymous said...
    The true view of this war...one we don't get to see,... but there is an emerging awareness by the common folks that maybe we ought to know what it's really like "over there". Any newspapers but ours, perhaps! Thanks and take care.
    4/2 mom
    Anonymous said...
    Thanks for pulling back the curtain allowing a glimpse of the reality through your eyes and words.

    Take care, safe travels.
    CB
    Uriah said...
    I'm a little disturbed to find that you are making me miss that shit. I was driving on a particularly hot day recently, past an overflowing sewer grate, following a slightly out of tune bus. The combination of diesel fumes and shit warped me right back.

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