QRF
Saturn on a line
A thing of fire and strings and wire
Spin above my head and make it right
And any time you like
You can catch a glimpse of angel's eyes
All emptiness and infinite...
-Duritz
Half an hour after dinner chow I'm in the can with a copy of FHM magazine, the UK edition. It amuses me to read British publications, which we get a lot of while deployed. Their baffling slang both irritates and fascinates me ("taking the piss" means "screwing with", they call soccer football, buddies are called "blokes" or "mates," etcetera) and it's interesting to me how often they reference the US in every article. And how much they get wrong. I look through a photo-essay by a brit photog who rode along with some Dustoff guys from the 82d in Afghanistan. He calls them Marines, puts Ft. Bragg in a completely different state, and seems to think that every single member of the 82d is an air medic.
I have read through about half the magazine when we get an IED call. The platoon sergeant comes and gets me in the latrine and two minutes later we're speeding to the linkup point with the QRF. As we're driving along and I'm handing my 240 gunner some zip ties so he can secure his ammo can, it occurs to me that I can remember literally nothing I just read. It amuses me at first--silly pulp magazine, a Cosmo for the modern effeminate grey-collar man, of course it wouldn't even make a dent in my formidable brain!--but then it starts to alarm me. I concentrate for a few minutes and still can't remember a single thing. There was an article about a movie, I think. Something about soccer, but I can't remember anything more specific. Some "interviews" with attractive women in bikinis, but I can't recall what they look like or the answers they gave. I think, is this what happens when I go outside the wire? I get so excited I black out the last few minutes of my life?
We arrive at the linkup only to be told we've been put on standby and may not roll out. Over the next three hours we sit around waiting on the word to go do God's will. It never arrives, and around 2300 we're stood down. I realize driving back that I can now remember the articles I've read. The movie article was about "Takers," with Paul Walker and that guy from The Wire. The soccer article was a creative "who has the crazier life" matchup between two well-known partyboy soccer players. The interviews were with a girl from Smokin' Aces 2 and a nobody they found in Camden. I guess it was the excitement. Now that it's drained out of me, my analytical mind is working again. It is a letdown.
This war is boring.
A thing of fire and strings and wire
Spin above my head and make it right
And any time you like
You can catch a glimpse of angel's eyes
All emptiness and infinite...
-Duritz
Half an hour after dinner chow I'm in the can with a copy of FHM magazine, the UK edition. It amuses me to read British publications, which we get a lot of while deployed. Their baffling slang both irritates and fascinates me ("taking the piss" means "screwing with", they call soccer football, buddies are called "blokes" or "mates," etcetera) and it's interesting to me how often they reference the US in every article. And how much they get wrong. I look through a photo-essay by a brit photog who rode along with some Dustoff guys from the 82d in Afghanistan. He calls them Marines, puts Ft. Bragg in a completely different state, and seems to think that every single member of the 82d is an air medic.
I have read through about half the magazine when we get an IED call. The platoon sergeant comes and gets me in the latrine and two minutes later we're speeding to the linkup point with the QRF. As we're driving along and I'm handing my 240 gunner some zip ties so he can secure his ammo can, it occurs to me that I can remember literally nothing I just read. It amuses me at first--silly pulp magazine, a Cosmo for the modern effeminate grey-collar man, of course it wouldn't even make a dent in my formidable brain!--but then it starts to alarm me. I concentrate for a few minutes and still can't remember a single thing. There was an article about a movie, I think. Something about soccer, but I can't remember anything more specific. Some "interviews" with attractive women in bikinis, but I can't recall what they look like or the answers they gave. I think, is this what happens when I go outside the wire? I get so excited I black out the last few minutes of my life?
We arrive at the linkup only to be told we've been put on standby and may not roll out. Over the next three hours we sit around waiting on the word to go do God's will. It never arrives, and around 2300 we're stood down. I realize driving back that I can now remember the articles I've read. The movie article was about "Takers," with Paul Walker and that guy from The Wire. The soccer article was a creative "who has the crazier life" matchup between two well-known partyboy soccer players. The interviews were with a girl from Smokin' Aces 2 and a nobody they found in Camden. I guess it was the excitement. Now that it's drained out of me, my analytical mind is working again. It is a letdown.
This war is boring.
posted by Battler03 at 11:12 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home