RE: War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning, by Chris Hedges
November 2, 2015 at 9:25 am
(This post was last modified: November 2, 2015 at 9:39 am by The Grand Nudger.)
I didn't read the book, but I was a KFOR peacekeeper out of Pristina. My company (1/18INF. COLD STEEL! HOOOOAAAAAH, 
) held Fire Base Rock, a remote observation post two miles from the Macedonian border overlooking one of the more heavily trafficked paths taken by arms smugglers. None of -us- could tell you who was serbian, bosnian, or croat. Our translator, however, seemed to have an opinion on the ethnicity of everyone we detained. Easy for me to chalk up as true in part in both. Our translator couldn't tell the difference, for example, between a cowboy and a cracker (he incessantly pestered me and a boy named Boucher from Lafayette - my No. 2 Crew, about rodeos, no matter how many times we told him we were from the swamp...just something about the way we talked, to him. He'd just forget that we weren't from Texas over and over). He'd most likely be ignorant of any division of culture (and even ethnicity) within our ranks. They are minor, after all - easy to miss. Those differences are important to us though, and we don't seem to have any trouble picking out our various crowds. If the conflict did rely on puffing up the differences, it's easy to see how that could be accomplished. It works here too, as minor as our differences may be by one metric, they're clearly not by another to which we are all keenly aware.
That place was/is a fuckin mess, btw. Beautiful, though, especially the bombed out villages and piles of booby trapped daipers in the mountains. There's very little better for entertainment, than watching a fuel oil bomb destroy a house made of stone and mud and straw at 5am, as the mist rolls down and settles into the surrounding hovels. Something about the contrast between the bleached white scenery and the acrid, black smoke is mesmerizing. Sets the stage for the morning, black and white. You're going to have one group of detainees huddled on this side of the ditch....and the second on the other. One group goes home....the other shuts it's mouth and gets in the godamned truck, for the last fucking time, or so help me god I'm going to start shooting.
) held Fire Base Rock, a remote observation post two miles from the Macedonian border overlooking one of the more heavily trafficked paths taken by arms smugglers. None of -us- could tell you who was serbian, bosnian, or croat. Our translator, however, seemed to have an opinion on the ethnicity of everyone we detained. Easy for me to chalk up as true in part in both. Our translator couldn't tell the difference, for example, between a cowboy and a cracker (he incessantly pestered me and a boy named Boucher from Lafayette - my No. 2 Crew, about rodeos, no matter how many times we told him we were from the swamp...just something about the way we talked, to him. He'd just forget that we weren't from Texas over and over). He'd most likely be ignorant of any division of culture (and even ethnicity) within our ranks. They are minor, after all - easy to miss. Those differences are important to us though, and we don't seem to have any trouble picking out our various crowds. If the conflict did rely on puffing up the differences, it's easy to see how that could be accomplished. It works here too, as minor as our differences may be by one metric, they're clearly not by another to which we are all keenly aware.That place was/is a fuckin mess, btw. Beautiful, though, especially the bombed out villages and piles of booby trapped daipers in the mountains. There's very little better for entertainment, than watching a fuel oil bomb destroy a house made of stone and mud and straw at 5am, as the mist rolls down and settles into the surrounding hovels. Something about the contrast between the bleached white scenery and the acrid, black smoke is mesmerizing. Sets the stage for the morning, black and white. You're going to have one group of detainees huddled on this side of the ditch....and the second on the other. One group goes home....the other shuts it's mouth and gets in the godamned truck, for the last fucking time, or so help me god I'm going to start shooting.
I am the Infantry. I am my country’s strength in war, her deterrent in peace. I am the heart of the fight… wherever, whenever. I carry America’s faith and honor against her enemies. I am the Queen of Battle. I am what my country expects me to be, the best trained Soldier in the world. In the race for victory, I am swift, determined, and courageous, armed with a fierce will to win. Never will I fail my country’s trust. Always I fight on…through the foe, to the objective, to triumph overall. If necessary, I will fight to my death. By my steadfast courage, I have won more than 200 years of freedom. I yield not to weakness, to hunger, to cowardice, to fatigue, to superior odds, For I am mentally tough, physically strong, and morally straight. I forsake not, my country, my mission, my comrades, my sacred duty. I am relentless. I am always there, now and forever. I AM THE INFANTRY! FOLLOW ME!
