AI
Friday, March 28, 2003 8:51:07 PM
Mildly buzzed and listening to Retrospective...
The Best of the Buffalo Springfield
Steven Stills, Neil Young, and a little Messina...
This is not the Vietnam Police Action (never officially declared a war...) Take a hill, retreat, "enemy" recaptures it... go die for it again. Piss poor strategy.
So here's to my love... Self-described death defying f*cking hero...
PORTRAIT OF AN INFANTRYMAN
The average age of the Army Infantryman/Marine is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who comes in many colors, under normal circumstances is considered by our society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father`s; but he has never collected unemployment either.
Tight-muscled and every hair on his body shaved off when he was in the field sleeping in rice paddies while on his missions... helped keep the lice from clinging.
He`s a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
Or a high school dropout whose parents signed him into the service because they gave up hope of every steering him in any kind of a productive direction. He had a girl wherever and whenever he wanted one... drop dead gorgeous with smooth talking charm to match.
He listens to rock and roll or hip hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm Howitzers. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
Doors... music of choice in the jungle.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less-in the dark.
Not necessarily... got him into crossword puzzles during our tenure... easy for him. Only person I've ever known who could read a 400 plus page book in under 3 hours while watching TV and get both.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
Amen.
He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you`re thirsty, he`ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He`ll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low. He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
The first present he gave me was literally the shirt off his back. I wore it until it shredded. He could cook and delighted in feeding me. When he got out of the service, he joined the local rescue squad and volunteer fire department... Delivered three babies... all girls... all pink ribbon awards, he was holding out for the blue.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime. He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed. He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to `square-away` those around him who haven`t bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
He had a bit of a drug and a rather severe alcohol problem... Drank because it kept him from dreaming. Whenever he dreamt, he was back in the jungle. I remember the morning he woke and sat up in a martial arts position... eyes darting around the room. I stood at the doorway softly calling his name until the ghosts disappeared.
He once told me. "I had a lot of friends and I saw a lot of friends die. I figured God spared me for one reason and that was to party. And that is what I am going to do until I die."
He based that on dying by the time he was 35... He's 55 now. The partying caught up with him.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years. He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
He earned it but does not ask for it... nor will he discuss what he went through at any length.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.!!!
God bless all involved in the current righteous conflict. May it end soon and our people return to us intact.
Thank you, PW.
ksquared
The Best of the Buffalo Springfield
Steven Stills, Neil Young, and a little Messina...
This is not the Vietnam Police Action (never officially declared a war...) Take a hill, retreat, "enemy" recaptures it... go die for it again. Piss poor strategy.
So here's to my love... Self-described death defying f*cking hero...
PORTRAIT OF AN INFANTRYMAN
The average age of the Army Infantryman/Marine is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who comes in many colors, under normal circumstances is considered by our society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father`s; but he has never collected unemployment either.
Tight-muscled and every hair on his body shaved off when he was in the field sleeping in rice paddies while on his missions... helped keep the lice from clinging.
He`s a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
Or a high school dropout whose parents signed him into the service because they gave up hope of every steering him in any kind of a productive direction. He had a girl wherever and whenever he wanted one... drop dead gorgeous with smooth talking charm to match.
He listens to rock and roll or hip hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm Howitzers. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
Doors... music of choice in the jungle.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less-in the dark.
Not necessarily... got him into crossword puzzles during our tenure... easy for him. Only person I've ever known who could read a 400 plus page book in under 3 hours while watching TV and get both.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
Amen.
He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you`re thirsty, he`ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He`ll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low. He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
The first present he gave me was literally the shirt off his back. I wore it until it shredded. He could cook and delighted in feeding me. When he got out of the service, he joined the local rescue squad and volunteer fire department... Delivered three babies... all girls... all pink ribbon awards, he was holding out for the blue.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime. He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed. He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to `square-away` those around him who haven`t bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
He had a bit of a drug and a rather severe alcohol problem... Drank because it kept him from dreaming. Whenever he dreamt, he was back in the jungle. I remember the morning he woke and sat up in a martial arts position... eyes darting around the room. I stood at the doorway softly calling his name until the ghosts disappeared.
He once told me. "I had a lot of friends and I saw a lot of friends die. I figured God spared me for one reason and that was to party. And that is what I am going to do until I die."
He based that on dying by the time he was 35... He's 55 now. The partying caught up with him.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years. He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
He earned it but does not ask for it... nor will he discuss what he went through at any length.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.!!!
God bless all involved in the current righteous conflict. May it end soon and our people return to us intact.
Thank you, PW.
ksquared
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