We claim superiority compared to the people we are told are our enemies.
When faced with proposed threats and problems, we drop missiles on those perceived problems or threats.
No matter the technology inside of a missile. No matter how smart, it is, technology will never make a missile so precise that it only hits our enemy.
It will never be able to discriminate the enemy from innocent civilians.
Who is the enemy but other humans?
Those dead innocent civilians provide the fuel and cornerstones for the new enemy to rise up in the face of terrorism and imperial occupations.
We cite 9/11 as our blank check to pacify the Middle East, yet we have left cities in ruins. Families are broken and torn as the bombs fall through the air.
The fabric of life is torn and on fire.
We should stop to ask why we have these enemies, in the first place?
When do the liberators become the terrorist?
October 6, 2007
Deployment date: 340
"Okay, that is the same serial number of the lock tag I have in my notes. So this ammunition bunker has not been opened since we sealed it up." Lieutenant Rodriguez said as he leafed through his notebook.
"Let me take a picture of those before we cut it, Sir." Sergeant Millhouse said. He pulled out the old Polaroid camera and snapped a photo of the lock tag next to the page of numbers." He shook the picture as it came out and inspected it before handing it over to the lieutenant.
This is going to be a long day.
"Okay, Private Hampton, cut the lock."
"Won't be private after today, will it BT?" The lieutenant asked.
"Yes, I am, sir," I responded. I wasn't quite sure what I would be excited about, it's not like there is much of a difference between the two ranks.
Sergeant Millhouse had insisted the locks be filled with glue to prevent someone from picking them when we locked the ammunition storage containers up several months back. That was part of my first assignment once I was moved from the squadron Headquarters troop to Alpha troop. We had been told that the CBRN unit had gone through and removed any potential weapons of mass destruction that belonged to Saddam. FOB Marez was rebuilt under Saddam as part of his super-base project and was used heavily during the Iran-Iraq war. A few units now have owned it, started with Millhouse before he was a sergeant, probably in the same position I was, with the 101st Airborne Division.
The body of the lock fell to the dirt with a thud. I lifted the locking handle and slid open the rolling blast door with assistance from Sergeant Millhouse.
The interior roof of the storage unit was corrugated steel underneath an exterior of concrete in the shape of a truncated pyramid. These storage units were referred to as munitions igloos. About half a dozen of them dotted the landscape to the south of our old training center, Spear Academy, centered under a cloud of the burn pit.
It was a shame the Army recruiter at the high school didn't say, "join the Army, and you too can swim in an atmospheric ocean of burning shit and plastic." Not a catchy recruiting line. That is why they lie to you about that part.
YOU ARE READING
Journal of the lostFantasy
The fictional intersection between Lovecraft's At the Mountains of Madness, Heinlein's Starship Troopers, and Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five. Set during an alternate Operation Iraqi Freedom timeline where Saddam is still elusive. War, magic, and th...