From the Sand Pit It's freezing here. I'm sitting on hard, cold dirt
between rocks and shrubs at the base of the Hindu Kush Mountains , along
the Dar 'yoi PomirRiver , watching a hole that leads to a tunnel that
leads to a cave. Stake out, my friend, and no pizza delivery for
thousands of miles.
I also glance at the area around my *** every ten to fifteen
seconds to
avoid another scorpion sting. I've actually given up battling the
chiggers and sand fleas, but them scorpions give a jolt like a cattle
prod. Hurts like a bastard. The antidote tastes like transmission
fluid, but God bless the Marine Corps for the five vials of it in my
pack.
The one truth the Taliban cannot escape is that, believe it or
not, they
are human beings, which means they have to eat food and drink water..
That requires couriers and that's where an old bounty hunter like me
comes in handy. I track the couriers, locate the tunnel entrances and
storage facilities, type the info into the handheld, shoot the
coordinates up to the satellite link that tells the air commanders where
to drop the hardware. We bash some heads for a while, then I track and
record the new movement.
It's all about intelligence. We haven't even brought in the
snipers
yet. These scurrying rats have no idea what they're in for. We are but
days away from cutting off supply lines and allowing the eradication to
begin.
I dream of bin Laden waking up to find me standing over him
with m y
boot on his throat as I spit into his face and plunge my nickel-plated
Bowie knife through his frontal lobe. But you know me, I'm a romantic.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: This country blows, man.
It's not even a country. There are no roads, there's no infrastructure,
there's no government. This is an inhospitable, rock pit **** hole
ruled by eleventh century warring tribes. There are no jobs here like
we know jobs.
Afghanistan offers two ways for a man to support his family:
join the
opium trade or join the army. That's it. Those are your options. Oh, I
forgot, you can also live in a refugee camp and eat plum-sweetened,
crushed beetle paste and squirt mud like a goose with stomach flu, if
that's your idea of a party. But the smell alone of those 'tent cities
of the walking dead' is enough to hurl you into the poppy fields to
cheerfully scrape bulbs for eighteen hours a day.
I've been living with these Tajiks and Uzbeks, and Turkmen and
even a
couple of Pushtuns, for over a month-and-a-half now, and this much I can
say for sure: These guys, all of 'em, are Huns... actual, living Huns.
They LIVE to fight. It's what they do. It's ALL they do. They have
no respect for anything, not for their families, nor for each other, nor
for themselves. They claw at one another as a way of life. They play
polo with dead calves and force their five-year-old sons into human
cockfights to defend the family honor. Huns, roaming packs of savage,
heartless beasts who feed on each other's barbarism. Cavemen with
AK-47's. Then again, maybe I'm just cranky.
I'm freezing my *** off on this stupid hill because my lap
warmer is
running out of juice, and I can't recharge it until the sun comes up in
a few hours. Oh yeah! You like to write letters, right? Do me a
favor, Bizarre. Write a letter to CNN and tell Wolf and Anderson to
stop calling the Taliban 'smart.' They are not smart. I suggest CNN
invest in a dictionary because the word they are looking for is
'cunning.' The Taliban are cunning, like jackals and hyenas and
wolverines..They are sneaky and ruthless, and when confronted, cowardly.
They are hateful, malevolent parasites who create nothing and destroy
everything else. Smart.. Pfft. Yeah, they're real smart.
They've spent their entire lives reading only one book (and
not a very
good one, as books go) and consider hygiene and indoor plumbing to be
products of the devil. They're still figuring out how to work a Bic
lighter. Talking to a Taliban warrior about improving his quality of
life is like trying to teach an ape how to hold a pen; eventually he
just gets frustrated and sticks you in the eye with it.
OK, enough. Snuffle will be up soon, so I have to get back to
my hole.
Covering my tracks in the snow takes a lot of practice, but I'm good at
it.
Please, I tell you and my fellow Americans to turn off the TV
sets and
move on with your lives. The story line you are getting from CNN and
other news agencies is utter bull**** and designed not to deliver truth
but rather to keep you glued to the screen through the commercials.
We've got this one under control The worst thing you guys can do right
now is sit around analyzing what we're doing over here, because you have
no idea what we're doing, and really, you don't want to know. We are
your military, and we are doing what you sent us here to do.
You wanna help? Buy Bonds America .
Saucy Jack
Recon Marine in Afghanistan
Semper Fi
"Freedom is not free...but the U.S. Marine Corps will pay most of your share"
Stay warm brother...
between rocks and shrubs at the base of the Hindu Kush Mountains , along
the Dar 'yoi PomirRiver , watching a hole that leads to a tunnel that
leads to a cave. Stake out, my friend, and no pizza delivery for
thousands of miles.
I also glance at the area around my *** every ten to fifteen
seconds to
avoid another scorpion sting. I've actually given up battling the
chiggers and sand fleas, but them scorpions give a jolt like a cattle
prod. Hurts like a bastard. The antidote tastes like transmission
fluid, but God bless the Marine Corps for the five vials of it in my
pack.
The one truth the Taliban cannot escape is that, believe it or
not, they
are human beings, which means they have to eat food and drink water..
That requires couriers and that's where an old bounty hunter like me
comes in handy. I track the couriers, locate the tunnel entrances and
storage facilities, type the info into the handheld, shoot the
coordinates up to the satellite link that tells the air commanders where
to drop the hardware. We bash some heads for a while, then I track and
record the new movement.
It's all about intelligence. We haven't even brought in the
snipers
yet. These scurrying rats have no idea what they're in for. We are but
days away from cutting off supply lines and allowing the eradication to
begin.
I dream of bin Laden waking up to find me standing over him
with m y
boot on his throat as I spit into his face and plunge my nickel-plated
Bowie knife through his frontal lobe. But you know me, I'm a romantic.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: This country blows, man.
It's not even a country. There are no roads, there's no infrastructure,
there's no government. This is an inhospitable, rock pit **** hole
ruled by eleventh century warring tribes. There are no jobs here like
we know jobs.
Afghanistan offers two ways for a man to support his family:
join the
opium trade or join the army. That's it. Those are your options. Oh, I
forgot, you can also live in a refugee camp and eat plum-sweetened,
crushed beetle paste and squirt mud like a goose with stomach flu, if
that's your idea of a party. But the smell alone of those 'tent cities
of the walking dead' is enough to hurl you into the poppy fields to
cheerfully scrape bulbs for eighteen hours a day.
I've been living with these Tajiks and Uzbeks, and Turkmen and
even a
couple of Pushtuns, for over a month-and-a-half now, and this much I can
say for sure: These guys, all of 'em, are Huns... actual, living Huns.
They LIVE to fight. It's what they do. It's ALL they do. They have
no respect for anything, not for their families, nor for each other, nor
for themselves. They claw at one another as a way of life. They play
polo with dead calves and force their five-year-old sons into human
cockfights to defend the family honor. Huns, roaming packs of savage,
heartless beasts who feed on each other's barbarism. Cavemen with
AK-47's. Then again, maybe I'm just cranky.
I'm freezing my *** off on this stupid hill because my lap
warmer is
running out of juice, and I can't recharge it until the sun comes up in
a few hours. Oh yeah! You like to write letters, right? Do me a
favor, Bizarre. Write a letter to CNN and tell Wolf and Anderson to
stop calling the Taliban 'smart.' They are not smart. I suggest CNN
invest in a dictionary because the word they are looking for is
'cunning.' The Taliban are cunning, like jackals and hyenas and
wolverines..They are sneaky and ruthless, and when confronted, cowardly.
They are hateful, malevolent parasites who create nothing and destroy
everything else. Smart.. Pfft. Yeah, they're real smart.
They've spent their entire lives reading only one book (and
not a very
good one, as books go) and consider hygiene and indoor plumbing to be
products of the devil. They're still figuring out how to work a Bic
lighter. Talking to a Taliban warrior about improving his quality of
life is like trying to teach an ape how to hold a pen; eventually he
just gets frustrated and sticks you in the eye with it.
OK, enough. Snuffle will be up soon, so I have to get back to
my hole.
Covering my tracks in the snow takes a lot of practice, but I'm good at
it.
Please, I tell you and my fellow Americans to turn off the TV
sets and
move on with your lives. The story line you are getting from CNN and
other news agencies is utter bull**** and designed not to deliver truth
but rather to keep you glued to the screen through the commercials.
We've got this one under control The worst thing you guys can do right
now is sit around analyzing what we're doing over here, because you have
no idea what we're doing, and really, you don't want to know. We are
your military, and we are doing what you sent us here to do.
You wanna help? Buy Bonds America .
Saucy Jack
Recon Marine in Afghanistan
Semper Fi
"Freedom is not free...but the U.S. Marine Corps will pay most of your share"
Stay warm brother...
