Friday, October 14, 2011
Post 6
We sat in the dark, rifles resting across our laps, and looked up at the night sky. We had accomplished something huge today; we had turned the tide of the war and after all these years of fighting it at last looked as if the end could be in sight. In the silence I realized the rage that had always been present, the undercurrent of vengeance and justice that had coursed below us, was still there. Even after a great victory, one that we should have been celebrating, we could not partake in celebration. There is still so much to do, still so many battles left to be won before we would win the war. The glory that we so blindly sought has been delivered, in part, but at what cost to us? How much more will we be asked to lose in order to be remembered as the greatest nation, to ensure that what we have done will not drift into historical animosity after we have left this world forever?
Post 5
The attack happened ages ago it seems, but when we awoke this morning the rage burned white hot in our hearts and the pain of what happened was present as if it all happened only yesterday. It was from this that emerged a newfound sense of despair and recklessness that drove us towards the enemies gates with the thirst for blood. Even in the dark hours of the early morning as our Hummers crept across the dark desert towards our prey I could feel that today would be the day we would exact some measure of revenge.
We had chased the enemy three times around this area of barren desert, following the tracks left behind from one destroyed and nearly abandoned desert village to the next. Somehow we could never move quite fast enough to catch up to the enemy, but we were close enough behind to watch their movements and bide our time. Occasionally an ally would step up, offering assistance in slowing our fleeing enemy; every time we would give the metaphorical head shake, rejecting their offer to help. We were unwilling to allow our allies to take even a little piece of the glory that we sought to gather in this battle. It was a glory that we were unwilling to share; it is a glory that would be ours alone. Then, last night, the night watch had been patrolling the borders of our camp when they had seen the enemy in the distance, finally close enough for us to strike at. This morning as we drew nearer to the enemy I got the sense that they had not chosen to stop running, but something, on our behalf, had intervened with their cowardly flight around their country and forced our enemy to turn and face the monster it had awoken within us.
Within bombing distance of the enemy we drew to a sudden stop when a message was sent out to us crackling out of an announcement system, and filling the dark morning with an eerie disembodied voice, “Brutal as you are we will not defile you, if the Almighty grants to us that we can wear you out, we will give you back to your nation to be sent home in your flag covered coffins. Will you do likewise?” Silence filled the gap that stretched between us. We couldn’t forgive them for what they had done; there are no trustworthy oaths between men and lions, and there could be no love between us. How ridiculous that they thought after all this fighting, after all this time, that talking would simply bridge the factions and ease the wounds on both sides. There is not glory to be had in talking. We turned to the General and waited for our signal to move forward. I tightened my grip on my rifle and flexed my shoulders, mentally preparing myself for the battle. We moved forward silently, guns up and fingers poised readily over the triggers, our eyes searched for places where they seemed weakest, places where our bullets and bombs would be most destructive. We found our mark and moved forward as a single entity towards our enemy. The battle didn’t last long, within minutes the last shot rang out and the morning was once again silent. The sun came up as we crept into the camp covered in the humming silence of death. “Die,” I heard someone whisper as we moved through the destruction checking for movement, “die.”
The last of us finished our rounds and returned to the Hummers where we found the flags and insignia of the battalion we had destroyed burning in an unceremonious heap. We left then and as we drove back to camp I turned to look back and watched as the flames we had lit defiled their flag on the land of their own fathers. Black smoke curled skyward, a vivid marker for all to see the strength of our might and glory, and in that smoke lay the beginnings of the immortality of our name.
We had chased the enemy three times around this area of barren desert, following the tracks left behind from one destroyed and nearly abandoned desert village to the next. Somehow we could never move quite fast enough to catch up to the enemy, but we were close enough behind to watch their movements and bide our time. Occasionally an ally would step up, offering assistance in slowing our fleeing enemy; every time we would give the metaphorical head shake, rejecting their offer to help. We were unwilling to allow our allies to take even a little piece of the glory that we sought to gather in this battle. It was a glory that we were unwilling to share; it is a glory that would be ours alone. Then, last night, the night watch had been patrolling the borders of our camp when they had seen the enemy in the distance, finally close enough for us to strike at. This morning as we drew nearer to the enemy I got the sense that they had not chosen to stop running, but something, on our behalf, had intervened with their cowardly flight around their country and forced our enemy to turn and face the monster it had awoken within us.
Within bombing distance of the enemy we drew to a sudden stop when a message was sent out to us crackling out of an announcement system, and filling the dark morning with an eerie disembodied voice, “Brutal as you are we will not defile you, if the Almighty grants to us that we can wear you out, we will give you back to your nation to be sent home in your flag covered coffins. Will you do likewise?” Silence filled the gap that stretched between us. We couldn’t forgive them for what they had done; there are no trustworthy oaths between men and lions, and there could be no love between us. How ridiculous that they thought after all this fighting, after all this time, that talking would simply bridge the factions and ease the wounds on both sides. There is not glory to be had in talking. We turned to the General and waited for our signal to move forward. I tightened my grip on my rifle and flexed my shoulders, mentally preparing myself for the battle. We moved forward silently, guns up and fingers poised readily over the triggers, our eyes searched for places where they seemed weakest, places where our bullets and bombs would be most destructive. We found our mark and moved forward as a single entity towards our enemy. The battle didn’t last long, within minutes the last shot rang out and the morning was once again silent. The sun came up as we crept into the camp covered in the humming silence of death. “Die,” I heard someone whisper as we moved through the destruction checking for movement, “die.”
The last of us finished our rounds and returned to the Hummers where we found the flags and insignia of the battalion we had destroyed burning in an unceremonious heap. We left then and as we drove back to camp I turned to look back and watched as the flames we had lit defiled their flag on the land of their own fathers. Black smoke curled skyward, a vivid marker for all to see the strength of our might and glory, and in that smoke lay the beginnings of the immortality of our name.
Post 4
We received new fatigues today. The old ones were tattered and worn, a poor representation of our nation. The government sent them to us along with provions, in drop boxes they rained from the sky like gifs from the Heavens. In clean fatigues that look sharp and strong in the early morning darkness I know today will be big. As I sit in the back of the Hummer with my gun across my knees I realize that I’ve never missed clean clothes so much. They don’t smell, either or at least not for long, anyway… We’re heading out from where we’ve been for the past few weeks, following the enemy. I’m actually typing this out on my iPhone in the Hummer, the wonders of modern technology. Even in the middle of this godforsaken desert I can document to the rest of the world exactly how we feel in this moment.
The general is driving. It feels kind of weird to be going back to battle, though. Today specifically, I can’t help but think about what sparked this. It keeps replaying in my head. That day… It felt like someone took my brother from me. Before we left, I had a word with an old soothsayer here that’s been hanging around our camp and telling the other soldiers’ fortunes and stuff like that; he’s kind of the closest we’ve got to a chaplain right now. I asked if he would pray to the Almighty to protect me. He went all funny, started shaking a bit and closed his eyes and said that the death of my battalion is near and unavoidable. He called it Destiny. I call it bullshit. I mean, we know we could die here, but not until after each of us has given 110%. And besides, death isn’t the point, it’s what we will have accomplished that matters. Death does not scare us. It is the idea of something like what brought us into this war happening again that keeps us going. It is the thought of our loved ones not being safe in their own home that drives us to fight. We will face that army, and we will conquer them.
The general is driving. It feels kind of weird to be going back to battle, though. Today specifically, I can’t help but think about what sparked this. It keeps replaying in my head. That day… It felt like someone took my brother from me. Before we left, I had a word with an old soothsayer here that’s been hanging around our camp and telling the other soldiers’ fortunes and stuff like that; he’s kind of the closest we’ve got to a chaplain right now. I asked if he would pray to the Almighty to protect me. He went all funny, started shaking a bit and closed his eyes and said that the death of my battalion is near and unavoidable. He called it Destiny. I call it bullshit. I mean, we know we could die here, but not until after each of us has given 110%. And besides, death isn’t the point, it’s what we will have accomplished that matters. Death does not scare us. It is the idea of something like what brought us into this war happening again that keeps us going. It is the thought of our loved ones not being safe in their own home that drives us to fight. We will face that army, and we will conquer them.
Post 3
Today has been a long day, but I’m having trouble sleeping. That seems to be happening a lot, lately. The breeze is nice and cool and there is finally a little peace and quiet for me to write.
I’ve always been a soldier at heart, but I never actually thought I would go off and be an actual part of a war. You grow up knowing about wars that are a part of history, or happening thousands of miles away, not in our backyard. They are all stories or dreams in our heads. It never hits home, it can’t. It just can’t.
But then they took our heart, our pride. It became personal. They attacked the very soul of our country and suddenly war was unavoidable. Something had to be done, because it couldn’t happen again. It wouldn’t happen again. When I think about what they did to us on that beautiful morning… I had been messing around with the guys at breakfast at the Fort when we heard the news. In an instant, our lives had been turned inside out and upside down. We knew the inevitable was coming. Some of the guys even started packing the next day. But it’s what we want to do. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t know how important this is. If our country and our loved ones didn’t mean anything, we wouldn’t have even joined the army in the very first place.
I’ve always been a soldier at heart, but I never actually thought I would go off and be an actual part of a war. You grow up knowing about wars that are a part of history, or happening thousands of miles away, not in our backyard. They are all stories or dreams in our heads. It never hits home, it can’t. It just can’t.
But then they took our heart, our pride. It became personal. They attacked the very soul of our country and suddenly war was unavoidable. Something had to be done, because it couldn’t happen again. It wouldn’t happen again. When I think about what they did to us on that beautiful morning… I had been messing around with the guys at breakfast at the Fort when we heard the news. In an instant, our lives had been turned inside out and upside down. We knew the inevitable was coming. Some of the guys even started packing the next day. But it’s what we want to do. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t know how important this is. If our country and our loved ones didn’t mean anything, we wouldn’t have even joined the army in the very first place.
Post 2
The General is a real asshole. He goes on and on to the other generals about how none of this is actually his business, he’s just here to fight because it’s his job, blah blah blah. He says he never wanted to be out here and even goes so far as to compare himself to our Government. He talks about how they were playing with Fate by going to war, and Fate screwed them over, and now we’re all stuck here. Poor Government. Yes, poor General, having to suffer the way our Government has, because it’s not like we’re all in one big boat together or anything. He’s not special. And that’s a shitty attitude to have anyway. We’re here to defend our country, to bring our enemies to justice. Mouthing off about Fate doesn’t do anyone any good.
Post 1
It’s hotter than hell in the middle of the desert. There’s a wind in the in the afternoon that sometimes brings relief from the heat, but usually, like now, it just stirs up the sand, blowing it into places sand was never meant to be, which only makes things more miserable. It’s my break, I should be sleeping or resting, but I’m here writing on this damned blog, telling this story so you will never forget this war. I hear that people are beginning to forget why we are here, they wonder if we are fighting for the pride and greed of one leader, using this world’s mightiest force to achieve a hidden agenda, but this is about so much more. This is about the wrath of one people united as the greatest force this world has ever seen bringing justice to the enemy who attacked and destroyed that which we hold so dear.
Do you remember the deep sense of loss and the rage you felt when it first happened, and how you wanted the wrath of our great nation to come crashing down around the head of our enemy? Do you remember where you were when you heard the news? Stop, and think for a moment. Recall how you felt and what you thought, because these moments are the ones that define the glory of our nation and these are the moments that have led us to one of the biggest wars of our time; if we win this war, we will be remembered as the greatest nation there ever was, no one will forget our name, no one will forget what we have done. They will be speaking about this war until the end of time, about what we accomplished in this barren land so far from home. I remember where I was when it happened; I can tell you exactly what I was doing when I first heard the news. It’s burned into my memory and when I close my eyes at night I can sometimes still see the tragedy, so graceful in its fall. I can remember how it felt when it appeared that we had fallen and were stripped of our glorious armour, but I also remember the rage that was awakened in the heart of what was left behind.
Do you remember the deep sense of loss and the rage you felt when it first happened, and how you wanted the wrath of our great nation to come crashing down around the head of our enemy? Do you remember where you were when you heard the news? Stop, and think for a moment. Recall how you felt and what you thought, because these moments are the ones that define the glory of our nation and these are the moments that have led us to one of the biggest wars of our time; if we win this war, we will be remembered as the greatest nation there ever was, no one will forget our name, no one will forget what we have done. They will be speaking about this war until the end of time, about what we accomplished in this barren land so far from home. I remember where I was when it happened; I can tell you exactly what I was doing when I first heard the news. It’s burned into my memory and when I close my eyes at night I can sometimes still see the tragedy, so graceful in its fall. I can remember how it felt when it appeared that we had fallen and were stripped of our glorious armour, but I also remember the rage that was awakened in the heart of what was left behind.
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