Cemetery Street

Another rumor started a couple of days ago and got a good argument brewing. Word got out about a couple of reporters who wondered off and got lost up at the border. Rumors floated that since we were covering at Bastonge we might be up for a rescue mission into Kuwait. Of course I shot my mouth off that the goddamn reporters had no business being up at the border and that there was no way in hell I'd willingly risk anyone in my squad to save their sorry asses. They disobeyed orders, let 'em pay the price. Why should any of my boys get shot up over some dumb reporter's stupidity? Another NCO argued that if they were American we'd be obligated to get them. I told them a story I remember my old man telling me about Vietnam - Erroll Flynn's son - like these reporters, went MIA in Cambodia and the Army didn't try to save his ass. To make a long story short, we ended up taking a vote, and I seem to be the only one with common sense! The rest of the officers in my company said they go in if they were sure they'd get no casualties or if our action didn't start a ground war. Sounds a bit like being a Monday morning quarterback on Saturday afternoon. I don't know Ortolan, these are good soldiers and everything, but sometimes their heads are stuck so far up their asses I swear they can't hear their thoughts over their heartbeats.

Happy Thanksgiving and all that shit. What I wouldn't do for a real turkey diner. Do me a favor, When you sit down do a nice turkey diner, think about me eating MREs - Meals Rejected by Ethiopians. If that doesn't turn your stomach may guilt inspired indigestion do the trick for you.

Anyway, tell everyone I said hi. Hug Flossy for me.

Count

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Shannie, December 12, 1990

Day's run together in an endless band of training and meaningless bullshit. It is easy to forget what day of the week it is. I started carrying a little pocket calendar, every night before I turn in I X off another day. It's the only way to keep days straight. Anyway, I just realized we've been in this shithole sandbox almost four months. This place really puts a chip on your shoulder, it gets you so pissed you wanna kill! No wonder the Arabs always want to pick a fight. I really starting to believe that it's not them, it's this place. The Fan belts up north, they walk around constantly pissed. I used to think it was us that pissed 'em off, you know interfering with their desert crossing. I think different, it's this shithole. The sameness, there's no landmarks, unless you consider dunes landmarks. You really have to be careful and not wonder too far from camp or you'll get lost. I can't tell you how many times we've gone on search and rescue missions for a guy who wondered out in search of a little privacy. Who thinks about taking a slugger with them to take a dump? A slugger is a hand held GPS. Ortolan don't laugh, what I wouldn't do to climb a tree! God knows I've been climbing whatever wall I can find. I guess living, eating, pissing and shitting in the sand does it to you. I want a goddamn slice of pizza!